Fxck You Jonas.

Keith often walked. Very generally, non-specifically or in any way special. Keith also enjoyed wearing shoes. The very same shoes his mother bought him at the beginning of secondary school, leather rounded fronts finished with polyester imitation strung shoelaces and A-for-effort, yet fraudulent embroidery of “Clurks” on the in-sole. However Keith never cared for tying his shoelaces and so often walked while the uneven, dark polyester whips threw back and forth over the criss-crossed binding like long hair during the throes of wild sex.

On this day however, school friend, acquaintance, who-the-f-are-you, fellow classmate Jonas happened to notice this aspect of Keith.

“Hey man, your shoelaces are untied.”

Keith glanced downwards, then looked back at Jonas, speaking slowly, clearly, surprisingly,

“Eat a dick.”


Her head fell to the ground, her body following slowly after. She threw her arms across her chest, rolling left to right, fists cupped, high pitched screams. She puts up her best defense. Because this is the last stand. Somewhere in Jonas’ mind that girl fell off her swing at that very moment. School friend, class mate… traitor Keith. To this end Jonas had arrived at the end of innocence.


Keith approached the gate of the concrete safari, ready for another day of social paddling and effortless apathy. Jonas approaching from the other direction picked up his pace as he saw Keith closing in on the gate. With a slight pant, Jonas exclaims, “Hey man watch out! Your shoelaces, you’re gonna trip!”

Keith, taken off guard, immediately reacts looking downward…

… just in time to see Jonas’ leather boot close in on his nose and upper lip.

Fxck you Jonas.

Fxck you Jonas.

XX Revolver.

S/O to my good friend, Jonas Juan Diep Pelayo.

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