killing me softly

the evil twsited bastard on the right side of my head begins to cackle. "just a wee bit more there boyo." he says in starnge combination of a scottish and irish accent, tightening the vice around my skull. as he does this, the pounding behind my eyes increases, the words infront of me blur, and i begin to feel as if i may in fact be seeing my dinner again quite soon.

but then, the other voice picks up. albeit weak, it sounds like it might win.

"never give up! never surrender!" it squeaks.

granted, a nice sentiment. but not all together practical.

"screw this." the pessimistic side says. "i'm taking some pain medication and going to bed."