There once was this man named Tomach. He lived in a house that was filled with dead people and he tried to perceive how to maintain his existence through them. Tomach knew that the way through life was to be strong and brave and never bow down to his own fears, and worse, his own desires. His desires drove him to the brink of total exultation in the form of implosion. He was a microcosm of his own mind and his functions were not functioning that well anymore. Yet his own normality justified his very existence (which did make the cure worse than the cancer, to say). His eyes rolled up as his wife opened the door.
       "You haven't got rid of the dead bodies yet?" asked his wife, Carlita.
       "Me gusto los bodies de decaying," said Tomach.
       "Stop it!" screamed Carlita "I hate it when you speak nonsense. If you want to speak Spanish to me, then speak it correctly, you friggin' ag."
       "Sorry, dear. I feel like a huge weight has been put on my shoulder. I feel as though I should substantiate myself through selfish quandaries that only I can preclude upon. The desolation of man through his own thoughtless parameters have left me to wander through the dissonance of what is left of my mind, dear. Forgive me."
       "I didn't understand a word you just said."
       "But words don't understand you, dear."
       With those words, Carlita threw up her hands and proceeded into the kitchen. She looked at all the dead bodies fermenting to a beautiful brownish colour. She admired how the sixth victim still looked a bit fresh. Fresh enough to be loved in a physical way. But she knew it was wrong. But wrong was right and right was the way. Her mind left her for a moment as she proceeded to knife away at the seventh victim's finger. She was hungry. She had been hungry for a long time. She heard a noise and turned around to see that it was Tomach, who was stumbling against the kitchen wall. He was bare and naked.
       "Make love to me, Carlita, por favor," begged Tomach.
       "Put on some clothes, you friggin' ag. You know the neighbours can see through the kitchen window. What are you trying to do? Give people that suggestion that our sex life is actually active. That will never happen."
       Tomach started crying. He took out a salamander stick from the cupboard and started beating his testicles with it.
       "Stop it!" screamed Carlita. "You're hurting yourself!"
       "But you don't love me," cried Tomach.
       "Yes I do," Carlita's eyes matched Tomach's now, she was crying. "I'm sorry. You know I love you. I wouldn't be doing all of this if I didn't love you. I just don't feel like doing it right now. You know, with all the dead bodies being here. I just feel a bit naucious."
       "I don't know, Carlita. I have tried to be the perfect man for so long and I haven't gotten anywhere. The perspicacity of my endeavour has left me to interrogate my deep dark emotions and negate my own self-worth as that of a light-beam travelling through the dimensionless dimensions of time and dark from light is light from dark. You understand?"
       "No I don't."
       Carlita left the room. Tomach wondered what he said. He got up and went into the living room to retrieve his clothing. He looked outside of the window. He could see them. He knew they would be judging him. He peered out unto his neighbours yard. He saw him and he could hear him speak to the children playing in the road:
       "Bob Dole don't like children playing in his back yard! Get the hell away from me or Bob Dole will do some serious harm to your pre-pubescent bodies."
       The children screamed and left. Tomach felt a bit normal now. Ever since Bob Dole lost the election, his neighbour, Mr. Richards, achieved his third personality, that being of Bob Dole.
       "Honey," said Carlita, "my mother is dead. We have to bury her."
       "She's been dead for a week now," said Tomach, "and she's rotting in the kitchen. Do you really want to bury her now?"
       "Well, she is my mother, you know. I just can't leave her there in the kitchen."
       "Alright then, alright. I'll go out to the backyard tonight and bury the old bag."
       Tomach's mother-in-law was in fact rotting in the kitchen. And in actuality, she had been there for two weeks. It was an unfortunate accident. Husband and wife going rafting with mother-in-law. Mother-in-law complains about every damn thing. Then all of a sudden, husband accidentally bludgeons mother-in-law to death with his severed arm.
       Yes, it was true. Tomach was one-armed. He carried around the other arm for good luck. He lost that arm back in the war. It became his good luck charm. He thought somehow his arm was a way to his other life- to his own self-being. He was stable before the war, but afterwards, things weren't the same. He wasn't himself. In some respects, he believed his severed arm was his past and he had to carry it on to build his bridge for the future.
       A knock at the door suddenly bent Tomach's conversation. Who could be knocking at 2:00 in the morning. He opened the door. It was Bubby.
       "Goodbye," said Bubby.
       "Hello," said Tomach.
       "Not me did not stop over here to not borrow your unsalt."
       "It's right in the kitchen, I'll get it for you," said Tomach as he walked his way into the kitchen of gloom.
       "So, how's your father, Bubby?" asked Carlita.
       "She's not okay, person-who-is-not-Carlita. Actually, she's not going to the wedding that is not happening of her brother."
       "Interesting," said Carlita, "did you vote this year?"
       "No, not me did not. In fact, I did not vote for the person who is not Bob Dole. Not me is very happy that the person who is not Bill Clinton did not win. Would you not believe that not me did not go to the not-polls late in the not-day. The people who did not exist at the school that wasn't there were not nice at all."
       "That's very nice, Bubby," said Carlita, "say hello to your mommy for me."
       "Not me will not say hello to my daddy for not you, person-who-is-not-Carlita."
       It bothered Carlita at first but somehow she got used to it. Bubby was the neighbour's son. He was born with a rare birth defect called "Negationessissity". He always negated everything he said. To someone who did not know him, it would be annoying; but to his friends, it became the norm.
       Tomach walked out of the kitchen with the salt, "Here you go, Bubby."
       "No thank you, person-who-is-not-Tomach. Hello!"
       "What a nice boy," said Carlita as she watched Bubby walk away.
       "Yeah," said Tomach, "too bad we have to kill him tomorrow. It's such a sad shame. But his own demise will certify our own."
       Tomach was correct. At least he was correct in his mind. Tomorrow was another day, but it was the integral day in his plan. It had to be. It was the eleventh.

       10:15 a.m. was on his watch by the time he got to the station. He was late. Not late in the sense of not being on time. But late in the sense that he hadn't gotten it yet. It happened every month and he missed it this month. What would everyone think? How could he handle the outcome from the situation at hand. All his friends knew that he was a freak. But this would add more credibility to the label. Ted Ephil knew that the station would have been empty anyway. But for some reason, he did not know why. The gentleman standing opposite approached him.
       "You look lost, son," said the old man.
       "Oh, I'm okay," said Ted, "It's just that I thought this place would be more fuller than what I'm witnessing now."
       The old man griped.
       "What's wrong?" asked Ted.
       "You know damn well, you foolish boy," said the old man. "There is not such phrase in the English language such as -more fuller-. You mean to say that this place would be more full. You young-ons disgust me with your know-it-all attitude, yet you cannot formulate grammar to the fullest of its potential."
       "Sorry, man." Ted walked away from the strange man. He noticed that the walls had been painted red. How much Ted hated the colour red. It reminded him of... He couldn't think about it. If he did he would just go insane. He walked over to the doorway and noticed a note lying between the crevice. He grasped it. It read:

I AM THE FOOL AND THE LIER. YET THE TRUTH IS BEYOND ME NOW. NOTHING MEANS YOU AND THE TRUTH IS RIGHT IN YOUR HANDS.

       What the hell did that mean? Ted's head began to burn him. He looked over to see that the old man was gone. He had no idea what the note meant. If he didn't decipher it, he wouldn't never maintain his existence. The truth meant everything to him. But he knew not what the note meant. Tomach always told him to rely on nothing to substantiate his everything. He knew the veins in his eyes would pop one day when he would realize the truth afterall. But it bothered him that no one was with him at the present moment and that he had to think on his own. He just didn't see the joy.
____He looked around and saw that Tomach was standing in his shadow. Tomach took out a pocket knife and carved open his own stomach. He proceeded to take out his intestines. Ted was in shock. He did not know what was occurring. Tomach walked over to Ted and strangled him with his intestines. Both men died.