The Journey of Birth

“Fuck”, I thought to myself.
If you know me at all, you know that words like 'fuck', don't really escape my mouth. So that's why I am just thinking it, over and over to myself. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck.
“Heaney man, are you all right?”
I am sure my face looks like the equal of a turd the Incredible Hulk just shit out, only I doubt if I am as warm. So I say the only response that is fitting to my feeling right now. In this moment.
“Shit”

Let me take you back a day until we get to the events that lead up to my brilliant opening line. I suppose a lot of kids look back and say, “I couldn't control who's womb I came out of”. Well trust me when I say, I know the feeling. I know it like a stripper knows its pole.
When your parents are in the business of killing people, you are bound to not be liked. When I was eight years old I saw my dad dig a hole about two feet deep in the backyard. Being eight, I waited till he left and I took a dump in it. Three hours later I go back outside with the intentions of adding urine to my new found hole only to find my dad cementing some mans head in the hole. I doubt if the bastard even so much as even thought about cleaning up my poop.
At fourteen, my parents both set me down and explained to me that they...
“Heaney, me and your mom have something we want to tell you”.
“What are we moving again?”
My mom interjects.
“No honey, no no.”
You have to love the way mothers think repeating information makes the next set easier to take.
“We are sorry for all the moves as of late. They were, unavoidable”.
Dad chimes back in.
“Sit up and take this. Me and your mother...me and your mother kill people. We are professional assassins”.
“Fuck.”
That last part, that was me.
It was here my dear mom reared back and slapped me across my face while my dad repeated the old tale about how we don't use that sort of language.

The next five years of my life were different than most. My favorite moment was when I took my then girlfriends virginity only to find out my mom slept with here dad only to shoot him between the eyes right after, on the same day, the day before I sex'ed. For some unknown self righteous reason, I felt it was my duty as the good boyfriend to tell the girl what happened. We moved the next day. As a side note, I heard a few months later from an old friend that she was pregnant.
Here we are, my 23rd birthday. I've lived a normal life for four years now. I naturally have decided it is best to go on to graduate school. On this night me and my only good friend Alex decide to just hang out at my apartment and watch T.V.. A few hours pass of watching girls fanatically take off their clothes. Things were normal until about ten o' clock, things then quickly went south.
Seeing a shotgun blast go threw your front door is a humbling experience. It could have been me I thought, but instead it was just a large plank of wood. Some guy I have never seen before walks through my front door. Good looking guy with long hair walks ever so closer toward me. When he gets to Alex, he takes his shotgun and hits him across the head with it, knocking him out. Tad of a bastard thing to do. All I can think about as my friend bleeds to death on the floor is how I wanted to cap off my birthday by masturbating after reading people magazine. As the unknown gunman starts the action of hitting me in the face, I get a little worried about the events that are about to take place and wish I had done said deed earlier that morning.
“Fuughhauc”. Note to self, don't cuss (or attempt to talk for that matter) with a broken jaw, you will end up sounding like a Muppet.
“Shut your mouth and stay on the floor”.
He doesn't really have a way with words this gunmen on mine.
It's not in my nature to piss off people with a shotgun, so I do as he says. The asshole didn't make it easy though, he kept hitting me in the face.
It was here the lone ranger of a gunman start to explain ever detail about why he was doing what he was doing. I should have known this was a big moment in my life and actually listened to him. Instead however, I watched COPS through a little opening out of my right eye. Some ecstatic women called the police about a snake in her yard. Why on earth would you call law enforcement about a damn snake in your yard? And here I am being hit in the face.
“I am getting my knife. I am then going to come back and gut you slowly. You will know what pain is before I kill you.”
Good sir, I assure you, I have a good handle at this very moment on what pain is.
As he left, I took it upon myself to snap my jaw into place. I imagine he will get pissed when I ask him for his explanation of these events.
“Heaney man, you alright?”
This is the point where I just think 'fuck' over and over.
“Shit. Alex, listen to me, you have to get out of here. That guy is going to come back and kill us both.”
“What is going on, why is he doing this”
“Alex. I slept with his mom, now leave.”
Truth is, I never had sex with this mans mom. I do not even know this man as I have said before, but it seemed like a thing you would guy someone over. Alex gets up and runs, shouting about how he will get help. It was here I wish I would have told him that my soon to be killer is most likely right outside.
There is a rather loud sound from outside followed a minute later by footsteps and mister shotgun walking back in.
“I want you to know, I broke your friends leg and rolled him down the hill in front of your apartments.”
“Thats great, really it is, but why are you doing this?”
My chest was the soccer ball and he was David Beckhem. I can hear the Spanish announcer crying out goal at the top of his lungs. Personally, I wet myself. Right before he drives the knife through my thorat I think about how badly I would love to have some string cheese.

Being dead is nothing like I expected. What I expected, well i have no clue; maybe some long tunnel of light, not this endless walkway of white string cheese. I know it was string cheese because the moment I woke up, I got on my hands and knees and took a bite out of the ground.
Another odd thing about death is that there is no source light, everything is magicaly illuminated.
Why is my name Heaney? What unbirthed sin did I commit to have such a name? Sounds like the genital region of an alien equivalent to a dog.
“There is so much cheese! I suppose I could eat my way through the floor till I find something more interesting”. No one ever says sentences when alone by themselves, but with so much string cheese, one has to say something.
So I eat. I realize after forty or so feet of eating that I am not getting anywhere. It's like the episode of the Simpson's where Homer is forced to eat donuts for all of eternity. Wait, it is nothing like that.
Wait. WAIT. Why am I not wearing any clothes.
It's a strange thing noticing that your once safe cheese valley is folding up with you inside. It is even worse when you notice the cheese container you are in starts to fill up with blood. I couldn't talk in all this blood, even if I wanted to. I have lost all forms of understandable speech.
NOW I ARE LOSING MY SMARTS.
I this hate.,.,.,,;
I see lgiht. NO!, NOW., . I see a gnait HNAD!.

I DONT WANT TO BE EAATEN.


I asked the doctor not to smack my new born child on the ass. Jerk did it anyway. There is just something degrading about your first moment alive being a passing slap on your ass. I hope my journey of birth wasn't like that.