I Stand Alone Page #2

They shouldn't think I'm

a wimp.

But the old cow's rich...

...and she thinks because of

that she can do anything.

That's how it is.

Everyone's fighting for their money...

...and their steak.

And no one will do it for you.

Have you been to the doctor's?

- No.

A woman is choking.

Can you help me. Quick.

Yeah, I don't know...

Quick.

Hold her hand.

Daddy...

Don't leave me alone.

Everything's all dark.

Death opens no doors.

In the end death is nothing special.

Everyone makes a big deal out of it.

But from a close view

It's nothing serious.

A lifeless body, that's all.

People are just like animals.

You love them,

you bury them, that's it.

Even thought this is the

first time I see it.

Evidently it's her first time too.

She sure looks devastated.

While it's so damn boring.

OK, I'll take her home.

She sure looks fragile.

And pretty cute, too.

Let me walk you home.

She reminds me of my daughter.

My Cynthia.

She must be very lonely

wherever she is now.

Come.

But loneliness means nothing.

Living with a guy or a girl

or even with kids...

...but you're still alone.

I'm alone.

And so is she.

We are born alone,

live our lives alone and die alone.

Alone, forever alone.

Even when f***ing we're alone.

Alone with our body

Alone with our life...

...which is like a tunnel,

impossible to share.

Over the years it only gets worse...

...only leaving memories of a life

that's slowly deteriorating.

Look, Mrs. Fabienne.

What is she doing here?

Damn, we're there already.

Strange... whenever I like a girl,

I mess it up.

Even when they want me.

She definitely does.

But I bet she has a boyfriend.

All girls have boyfriends somewhere.

Life is a tunnel. Everyone has his

own little tunnel.

Only there is no light at the end.

It is a void.

Even memories will be gone.

The old people do know this.

They live a simple life.

They have small pensions

and a small grave.

And it's all completely useless.

Even having children.

When you're old and poor

they will put you in a home...

...to let you suffer in silence.

They don't care.

They don't love their parents.

It's a myth. You only love your

mother when she feeds you.

And your father when he gives you money.

Once her breasts are all

dried out...

...or when your father's pockets

are empty, better put them away...

...and hope they'll die a

quick and cheap death.

It's the law of life.

Only when there's an inheritance

the children pretend to be nice.

But for a fridge or TV there is,

no need to play nice guy.

Maybe just the bare minimum,

for ease of mind.

Call them every other month...

a couple of tears at the funeral

and you've done your duty.

Love and friendship. It's all

full of sh*t

Illusions from your youth,

to cover up the fact...

...that all human relationships

are redundant.

Sure friendship and love are useful,

only when they're beneficiary .

Reality is much more corrupted.

You love your mother because she

feeds you so you stay alive.

Your friend because he helps you get

a job so you stay alive.

Your wife because she cooks for you

and relieves you of your sperm...

...and gives you children

to look after you when you're old...

...and afraid to die.

But punish your child once

and it'll retaliate when you're old.

The punishment...

...will be their tool.

When they put you in a home...

...that will be their excuse to

hide their disinterest...

that we all have

toward our up bringers.

No, I don't like the baby they're

trying to let me have.

And I'm sure the baby

will think the same.

No, f***ing is definitely

misunderstood.

It's even damn expensive.

But well, it's a pastime.

When you don't want to f*** no more

that's when you know your time is up.

And that it's all been the

same in this life.

Merely a reproduction code

that's been imprinted on us...

that we think we should obey.

Thanks.

Being born against your will. Eat.

Wave your dick around.

Make new life. Die.

Life is one big void. It's always been

and it'll always be.

A large void that can do

just fine without me.

I don't want to play that game

anymore. Not in this life.

I want to experience something personal,

something intense.

I don't want to be the final replaceable

part of a giant machine.

The day I die I want to

have done more...

...than the sh*t millions of f***ers

have done together.

Look at it like this:

Every sucker's done the same things

that I did.

I don't know.

I must find a reason...

...an excuse or whatever

to find the motivation...

...to go on another 20 years.

Until I die.

Should I start my life all over

I'd want to make porn movies.

It's all clear.

The people who do that...

...understand the human race.

Either you're born with a cock

which has to be...

...a big hard dick

filling snatches.

Or you're born with a p*ssy

which has to be filled with cock.

In both scenarios you'll still be alone.

Yeah, I'm a dick.

That's it.

I'm a sad, sad dick...

...and to earn some respect

I must be hard all the time.

But with the fat cow

I can't do it anymore.

I'd rather take

the old tart.

Or a threesome.

Me, Mother, Daughter.

I bet they'd like it too,

those perverted sluts.

Both getting a good f***ing

on daddy's bed.

Cow would freak out.

Tower complex Pablo Picasso

That night around 10:30 PM

Where the hell have you been?

So have you f***ed her?

Have you f***ed her?

- What?

Do I need to spell it out?

What did Fabienne tell me?

She's seen you this morning

together with some slut.

I haven't done anything.

- Oh haven't you?

I didn't feel like returning

to this hell hole.

Well off you go then. F*** off.

- I certainly will.

Fine. I'll finally have my

child to myself.

Turning him into a queer.

- Like his daddy.

F*ggot.

What did you call me?

- Half f*ggot.

Stupid b*tch. Take that.

- You're a stupid b*tch yourself.

What?

- You're a stupid b*tch yourself.

I'm going to hit you in the f***ing

face stupid old b*tch.

Piece of sh*t!

I'm getting the gun.

- What?

The gun.

- What gun?

Where did you get a gun?

- My husband.

Where's that gun?

Where is it?

- Over there.

Where, over there?

- Over there in the closet.

What closet?

The small one?

- Yes.

B*tch.

Mama...

My baby...

My baby, mama.

I don't have it.

He killed my baby.

I'm calling the police.

That b*tch. She's sneaky.

Really sneaky.

Keep calm. Calm, calm.

I have to get out of this

damn place.

My baby, mama.

What baby, your baby's nothing

but a meatball. Meat.

At least he should be lucky not

to see your god damn face.

My baby... my baby...

Mama, my baby...

A**hole! F***er! Son of a b*tch!

Those b*tches are crazy enough to

call the cops.

Maybe they already have.

After my beating she's probably

shitting out the foetus on the carpet.

That could mean trouble.

I have no idea how many years

they'd give me for that.

She could call it murder,

even when she started it.

Dammit. What should I do now?

Not that I feel sorry.

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