Shut up shut up shut up.
It was one of those moments where you just have to grit your teeth and bear it. Her voice was high-pitched and whiny. Her sales pitch was self-centered and useless. Her clothes fit her badly. She kept looking straight at me whenever my attention wavered.
Shut up shut up Shut the fuck up! It was one of those times, where everything was just a little too clear. I looked her back in the eye and smiled. I could feel what She, not this miserable pitch bitch but the One Inside, what She wanted.
We all have a dark side. That's what my mother told us.
Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the bloody fuck up! She was still droning on. She'd asked me a question, one of those horrid trap questions designed to make the listener look and feel stupid.
I answered her question, trying to keep the inside voice internal. "It seems like the product wouldn't work in that situation." It was the answer she wanted. She wanted to pounce.
She wanted to say "Wrong!" And she did, smirking.
Shut the bloody fuck up shut your fucking yap shut up or die.
The voice was getting louder. I could feel my canines lengthening. I dug my nails into the table, glad it was her furniture and not mine.
"So, you see, the Miracle Machine is perfect for situations like yours." She was oblivious. They always were. The Voice Inside liked it that way.
We all have a dark side. That's what our mother told me. We all have a sharp edge somewhere inside.
Sometimes, however, it's someone else's sharp bits that end up in us.
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