You kill a man one summer, cutting off his head with a hatchet. When on the last downward stroke, you break the hatchet. You go to the store to repair the handle. You explain how the handle was covered in BBQ Sauce and you go back home. It lays on your windowsill until you see something strange. Oops, the head broke. You go back and explained that it was your dog. He gives you a wierd look and you go home, with your new hatchet. A year goes by, all of the sudden, the same guy appears you killed, his head reattached with some old weed wacker plastic wire. You arm yourself with your new hatchet. He says "Thats the same hatchet you used to kill me..." Is he right?
It was that kind of mind fuck phenomena that has been going through my head. I sit there and think about it, staring into nothing. All I do is think. My mind races between thaughts, one by one, an hour of information gone in a second. I freak people out when I think too hard. That's just what happens when you do things during your youthful, cocaine mainlining, fetish finding, adolescence.
And then my mind clears, I sit perfectly still in a local diner. I see one Greymuzzle at the breakfast bar. He is eating three eggs, bacon, white toast with no butter. I can tell. Im in the same room. I glance over to a family of four, but then who I'm waiting for walks in. He was stubby, fattened by years of laziness, hoarding, and judging by the grease stains on his pits, obesity. He works at the local news office as a reporter. He waddles his way over table. This was sad because, he was a cow.He looks at me with a smirk on his face and says " Nice to meet you!"
"Who are you?" He asked with a certain brovado, which just made him look more like a bitch. "Eric DiNorio. Are you the reporter, Mr. Fraquer." I smirked. "Yes, yes shall we move on to why I am here?" He looked at me, my guess is examining. "So you can apparently do some sorta freaky-deaky-shit with your mind." This defiantly made him look like a bitch. "Well, I can say I have something special." I said with a false jubilation. He giggled and leaned over, giving me a whiff of his diabetic macho."You seem to have something special."
"Should I demonstrate?" I said in reply. "Sure!" He leaned back, making the chair scream in agony. "You currently have 87 cents in pocket change in your left, front pocket. Two quarters, three dimes, one nickel, and two pennies. The quarters have the stares Alabama and New Jersey on their backs. The pennies were made in 1997 and 1999." He pulled out the change from his pocket, and proved me right. "Shall I continue..." I said half willingly, for I felt like if I didn't, I would underachieve. "No thanks" he said. "If you flip a quarter now five times the order will be heads, tails, tails, heads, tails." Mr, Fraquer immediately interrupted," Kid just stop!"
"How did you do all of that? I mean, I don't remember having change in my pocket, you could have slipped them in there. Plus all those random chance guesses?" I stopped him there immediately. "It is simple. I have the awnser in this container." It was small, cylindrical. It was made of a steel, tin, and aluminum alloy. "Can I see?" Mr. Fraquer said eagerly. "Go ahead." He took out a small pill. It was pitch black. A small tablet that just was there. "What is this kid? Candy!" He swallowed it. It did not suprise me. Anything near his mouth went in, and was never seen again. He started to twitch. The twitching turned into spasms. This was no allergic reaction, or side affect. It simply did not choose him.
The small pill shot out of his throat, causing blood to spray on the table. Well, that's what happens when you decide that you could do something and not pay consiquences. He did not ask, he just took, and suffered for it. I put the pill back in the container, and leave. That's how I can see things. Tell things before they happen. The pill... Was not just the awnser. It was alive. And I was a part of me.