The Waiting Room: Volume II

Well, here we are again, back to being an outsider looking in. Just like an orphan, I’m looking through the window of our apartment. My beloved Shauna looks even more beautiful carrying our child, whom she named Michael Di’Foro the second after his father. Yep, since it looks like we’re gonna be talking more, I don’t see the harm in telling you my name.


So far Ive made two friends. The first one being a dude named Jerry. Jerry has the appearance of a twenty something punk rocker, which is what he was when he died from a vicious beatdown from three meatheads back in the late 70’s. It was a shitty way to go indeed and Jerry is still prone to fits of rage about it. However, he admits if those goons didn’t do him in, the smack most likely would have.


My second buddy is Rich. A true gentleman in every aspect, think of a loving grandfather who is also a total badass. Rich still goes about his daily routine which he had when he was alive. First to the library, then to the park bench where he used to watch and feed birds with his wife until her death some years before. The park bench is where rich died in his sleep happily. He happened to be dreaming of the memories of his wife when it happened. In the evening, rich retire to an old piano bar to enjoy a cigar and a couple martinis, all while looking dapper in an old pinstripe suit, complete with a pistol inside the suit jacket. HA! what a fucking gangster!


I’m enjoying the company of these men tonight because it was one FUCKED UP day. I was able to make myself more visible to Shauna. However, she freaked the fuck out and I didn’t want to push her over the edge and cause a miscarriage, I chose to abruptly leave. Yeah my own goddamn house, my own goddamn wife and goddamn kid. I saw the goatman earlier too, o course when seeking advice all he can give me is questions for my questions. Seriously dude, drop the yoda bullshit and just help a motherfucker out!


Anyways, enter the old piano bar, from the livings view it’s just another abandoned building in the seedy district of town. On the dead’s side though, its a hoppin place man!

The bouncer greets us politely at first, until he sees Jerry, whom he tells that the gay bar is down the road and whom Jerry tells to fuck off in return.  With some smoothing over, rich talks the bouncer down and we all get to a table to indulge in a few drinks and smokes. Jerry leaves us a bit early, presumably to shoot dope in a back alley somewhere. All of a sudden, a woman with jet black hair and your typical American pinup look comes to our table. She introduces herself as Nikki and informs us the boss of the place wants to see us in his private lounge.

As were following this lady, I ask Rich what the fuck is going on, he replies with a rolling of the eyes and apologizes for not informing me  about this side of the bar. Enter the private lounge! In which we are engulfed in a dimly lit room filled with red candles, black leather furniture a ton of liquor bottles and clouds of cigar and marijuana smoke. A handful of 50’s era looking gangsters are hanging about with equally shady women hanging on them. In the corner, a tattoo artist is doing his work on a man’s forearm.

At the end of this “bad boy grotto” sits a large imposing man in a dark suit with tattoos coming onto his hands and up his neck. Complete with slick black hair and dark sunglasses he appears to be the definition of shady. The man greets us then lowers his sunglasses, telling rich its good to see him, while two bloody holes are exposed. Rich informs him if he keeps up the shit he’ll need a strap on dildo to compensate for what he’ll lose next. The man simply laughs it off and says its all under the bridge.


To save us both a little time, I’ll give you the short version of my terrible choice. The man, who I now know as my boss “Scary Larry” informs me that he is aware of my situation with my wife and kid. Additionally, unbeknownst to me, I am in a vulnerable position where there are predators lurking, looking to prey on my being. In order for protection and to have more interaction with my wife and son, I agree to work for this man. My first job is to stay here overnight until morning. In the morning, a potential buyer of the property in the living world is said to come view the place. MY job is to kill this man, to send a message to the other side as not welcome. I am also informed Larry’s  people will be watching, and it would not be wise to “bitch out”. I am ceremoniously marked with a small  line underneath my left cheek from a switchblade.


Fueled by heavy drinking and cocaine, morning comes before I know it. My prey enters the bar. I startle him by throwing a chair or two, you know the cliche poltergeist bullshit. All of a sudden, rage ensues and I smash a liquor bottle over his head,  then another across his face. I proceed to take the handles of said bottles and stab the poor bastard with them multiple times. This action still does not satisfy my blood lust, So I drag him by the feet underneath a giant chandelier. I then go to the top level, and yank the base out of the ceiling,smashing the man and creating an even bigger, bloody fucked up mess.


All of a sudden, the room is filled with Larry and all of his boys,they all goes ape ass and cheer at the top of their lungs. I flash a grin on my cheek is turned into an x, signifying the deed is done and I’m in the crew. I may look happy but have never felt so horrible.







The Waiting Room

I’ve been sitting in this waiting room for what seems to b e a few hours. However, I cannot be sure due to a nasty head injury sustained recently. Wow, where are my manners? How are you? my name dosen’t matter what it is because I’M FUCKING DEAD!! YEP! TAKEN OUT BY A GODDAMN BEAM THAT FELL OFF A GODDAMN ROOF!! GUESS YOU’RE DOING EQUALLY AS WELL AYE? HAHAHHAHA!!!

I’m sorry for that, just going through the stages I suppose. You know,most of my life, I have always been a bit on the morbid side. Yes, always infatuated with death and the like. I even went through a time where I considered taking the ol’ swan dive off of a roof, the same roof where that infernal beam fell from. All to acquire a an express pass to this state of being or non-being.

Now that I’m here, I wonder why I was in such a fucking hurry to die? As you see, this place has nearly the exact set up as a conference room at a funeral parlor. Oh yes, whoever they are, have supplied us with copious amounts of vices to indulge in. Alcohol, tobacco, narcotics, it’s all on the table. However, ive consumed all of these and have no pleasurable feeling from any of them now, very strange.

I’ve also contemplated most of my life. the only person I will truly miss, is my wife, Shauna. She has been the only one that was truly there and one of maybe three real friends. The rest of my relations with society and family either were a sham, or had died some time ago. This is alright though, as i had time to mourn the death of said relationships.

***The door to the room opens*** “Step inside, mister”-says an ominous voice

Well, that’s my sign!

***Enter through the door, a goat headed man sits at a throne with a desk surrounded by dead vines and plants***

“Mister, your assignment for now, will be to look after your dear Shauna, you will have limited contact on a periodic basis. Oh and you also be charged with the duty of looking after your soon to be born son, congratualtions!”-says the goatman

****Fade to blue light***

Alone near a forest

Last night, I was alone nearby a forest when I came to a few conclusions. Ive always been a bit of a night owl and a loner but never really understood why. I thought it was just due to being somewhat eccentric but now im positive I have the answers. Its all about simplicity, let me elaborate on that. At night time,operations in our world are normally much slower paced,and there are less people to interact with,making this time a more simple part of the 24 hour period.

With being one who prefers a more simple life, its also a no brainer that ive been attracted to minimalsim.It even explains my love for abandoned buildings and morbid curiousity on anything macabre. Furthermore, why I like mostly black clothes. Think about it, abandoned buildings are now in a more simple phase of existence. The only purpose left is to exist,there is no duty to protect the people that occupied them because,most likely they are dead now so these buildings stand by awaiting destruction or someone to rejuvenate them.

The macabre and black clothes both fall under the simplistic theory as well. Black is the absence of color,therefore,at least in my opnion,making it a more simple color. The macabre generally has a more limited audience of enthusiasts. I feel that this is partly due to it not being accepted by the norm in society.Others may have the curiosity about macabre subjects,stories,etc.but may not have the emotional toughness that is required for such things or may feel guilty in indulging in creepy shit due to a religious conviction.

In closing, maybe people like me like weird shit and more on the introvert side because we prefer a simpler life. In no way is this intended to insult anyone who is the opposite, keep doing you,whatever it is. -chris


On writing

Im happy to start writing again. However,My biggest obstacle at this point in time is fear of unoriginality. I have one semi-autobiographical project in the works,entitled “suedehead” which seems to be going well. I believe this is for 2 reasons. The 1st being its fairly easy to write about previous experiences,then sprinkle it with some extra bullshit to make the story more entertaining,because,lets face it, a lot of us are pretty fucking boring on our own.

The 2nd reason for suedehead’s smooth evolution is this story only gets worked on when I FEEL it. Suedehead has helped me break away the barrier of TRULY beginning to tell a story. In the past, I would get excessively critical of myself,declare the story that I was working on was shit,then trash whatever was accomplished. Doing a project like suedehead has pulled me out of that hole and reminded me of a piece of advice an old friend tried to give years ago, which was write what you know. I’m almost positive the dude stated hemingway originally said this. Embarrasing as it is, I have never read hemingways stuff, however,its on my to do list.

ANYWAYS! The moral of the story is I should have listened to my buddy years ago,and suedehead deserves 100% effort after all its done for me already. I also have a second untitled horror story in the works. In following the advice mentioned above,horror will most likely be where I do most of my creating. Ive loved horror my entire life,however,i get anxious over the feeling of “its all been done”. I come up with an idea then think “wait a minute,they did this in this movie,that in that book” and so on “Fuck!”. Tonight is different though,as I have found the solution “So what? Even if there is a similar idea out there who gives a shit? That story isnt told by YOU”. Put everything you have into each story,and you will build more confidence.