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Semi-Self-Control
It was two Saturdays ago and well
past midnight when the lot of us strolled in
the black-lit house with our share of Miller
Lites in hand, each of us bobbing our heads
to a song by some obscure Reggae band
that would surely be off the music
market within a month or two. I could
never account for the amount of times
I had frequented such a house - single
and multileveled, spacious and swarming,
blurry and sober - but I was sure I
had been to this particular two-floor
home before, probably too many drinks
deep and ready to heave up the contents
of my pasta dinner. It was in this
moment of our entrance that I realized
that I should just turn myself around, walk
back out the front door, and take the hour
drive straight home, wholly bored with the primitive
scene but ready to sleep knowing full well
that this moment of semi-self-control
would almost certainly crumble in the
moment the following Friday arrived.
About Me
- MFIII
- I was conceived by Scotish/Irish immigrants some odd years ago in a rural town in South Carolina. My childhood consisted of my two older brothers beating me over the head with a cold, steel frying pan and my mother screaming at me to pick up the garsh-darn micro machines. After that, I seemed to develop a bit of a deep hatred for Native Americans. Additionally, I mistakenly courted a woman who happened to already be taken. Turns out marriage licenses DO matter. Lastly, I'd like to point out that no one should cross me, for I am officially 13-0 in duels. Unofficially I've won hundreds, maybe thousands. I SWEAR IT.
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