The Party Downstairs

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I don’t consider myself a bad person nor do I consider myself a good one either, well depends on the day of the week. However, when the day comes and my days on earth have ended, I know that there will not be an invitation for me to enter Vallhalla. I’m 99% percent sure, that I’ll probably be directed towards the stairs with big, dark, red neon signs, that read “Hotter as you keep going down”. I’m not saying that I’ve done some super shitty things in my life, like some other people I may know, but I also don’t think that I’m meant to be in nirvana city. Where everything seems to be so good, pure and untouchable. Where someone’s playing some lovely music, as big G watches upon us and tell us story from back in the day, as I sip my tea in a outfit made by angels, while mingle with the departed. No!, that’s not going to happen, no way no how homie! I might likely be wearing a hideous red or black suit, while sweating my naughty balls off, eat hot Mike & Ike’s, as the try to vanish what left of my soul. I’m being very dramatic and sarcastic as fuck; I mean what soul, right? However, if this is my calling and my hand basket was been prepared, with my name written in some fancy font. Then I had better be the only one in the room, which they fear…, sorry Big Red!

3 thoughts on “The Party Downstairs

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