In a perfect world

Jack Fanciulli 

Bizarro, Prose

Write Club

















And finally we had enough. We had it up to here with everything and we decided to take over. We had enough of calm, we had enough of peace and we had enough of the older generation. Enough of their slow movement, of their patronizing comments, their lethargic, complacent ways. So caught up in nostalgia they don’t even have the heart to face the present. Sitting around, with their receding hairlines, double-chins and gullets, withered noses and slippery lips, complaining how kids these days will doom us, as they keep their finger hovering over the button. Enough is enough.

They don’t have the appetite for destruction. They aren’t willing to go all the way. They need to think less, feel more. Thing less, feel more. Think less feel more.

We don’t age like how the prior generations used to. Maturity is the most shameful illness you could contract. We have sat too long by our rotting grandmothers, trying to feign sympathy; we’re finished with that, let them just decay away.

And so we took over. Like Jenga, u pull out one piece and it crumbles under its own weight. It was so easy, it just took a huff and a puff, and the poor, frail things were gone.

Knock down, those walls, we want to see it all, leave nothing to the imagination.

And, religion, of course it was a joke. The biggest farce of all time, according to John. As the old saying goes, God is a dog, a little puppy that still hasn’t learned not to poo on the floor. It’s old news, anyways, u get bored just thinking about it. After two thousand years of pondering, debates, arguments, fights, killings and wars, the Catholic Church collapses because everybody lost interest.

Taking over wasn’t a problem. There were no worries with it. There were no celebrations afterwards because it wasn’t even really a battle. However we were well-educated and well-read, we knew that the hard part would be sustaining all this.

No, actually, it wasn’t. We changed our minds. We didn’t worry about keeping it because we didn’t care about keeping it. There was no government, there was no politics even considered, because politics did our poor, little heads in, and caused extremely bad vibrations. We love contradictions and hate inconsistencies.

Geez Louise, how we are sick of the Anthropocene scene. We are going to ride this mule ‘till it collapsed. Like Dr Strangelove, we are saddling the nuclear bomb, riding that baby all the way down, going out with style. The world is our oyster and we want that goddamn pearl. After all, the most interesting creations always come from self-destruction. Right?

And don’t you dare label us. We cower at the thought of being described. We killed Johnny Rotten just so we couldn’t be called punks; we got rid of father figures because it reminded us of childhood, we burnt Nietzche’s books because they were too pretentious. We brought Hunter S Thompson back from the dead, only to kill him again because he was too old. We only get rid of stuff, we never added anything new.


U didn’t need to take drugs to get high here. There was no easy listening music allowed, there is not such thing as lightweight entertainment. From now on u are supposed to live your life off cathartic experiences, extremely good vibrations or extremely bad vibrations; there was no middle ground. No chuckles or sobbing, that’s too tame. Everybody is on a constant search for euphoria, in fact, scientists are developing a way of putting pleasure in the air, as we speak. It gets a bit heavy after a while and u get tired and ur head starts to hurt, but u’re supposed to put up and shut up, so… Oh well.


Goddamn vegans and vegetarians, we want to take it back to pre-history, back when u couldn’t ask, you had to take what you wanted, and u ate meat. U killed the animal, ripped the skin away and ate the flesh, there and then, bloody and raw. That’s how u survived.


NO KIDS. If we are going to go down, we are going to take the entire race down with us. The last generation. The generation of absent fathers, of pent-up aggression, of bad vibrations, of deliberate ignorance, of premature pretensions, of self-righteousness, of obsessive narcissism, of over-aggrandising, of bedlam and squalor, romanticised misery and countless other big words. It was all us. WE


I want to sleep at night, to take a break, walk on the beach, to speak normally, instead of SCREAMING, to breathe at a steady pace.

I would like to die on my own terms, if it isn’t too much hassle. I don’t want to die with everyone else at the end of the world, because then there will be nobody left to mourn for ME.

I’m a timid guy, never get above passive aggressive. I don’t even have the balls to disagree. I’m such a slippery guy, a reclusive boy who isn’t allowed to be alone I’m always the first to go from a bad scene, but now there is nowhere to go except a bad scene. It’d dragging me down, breaking my structures. And all I wanted was to get through life without killing anyone.

Despite the emphasis on togetherness, I’m not close to anybody. I don’t know anybody’s name, hell I don’t even know mind. All sense of intimacy is gone with the silence; everybody is constantly looking at the bigger picture.

I’m getting desperate now, I’m like an octopus hooked on a string; I’m grabbing and flailing for anything I see.

I try to express my opinions, but nothing can be heard over the constant drove of feedback, in fact, you are just adding to the noise.

Get lost, get free, pour light on everything we see!

You know what, I kinda like pretty mus-

Get lost, get free, pour light on everything we see!

I’ve spent my whole life, sitting on the fence, and-

Get lost, get free, pour light on everything we see!

I want people to remember me and not just the idea of m-

Get lost, get free, pour light on everything we see!

I’m getting paranoid now; I’m squirting ink at anything that gets close.

GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE IT TO ME! APOCALPYSE WHEN!? That’s what all of us are waiting for. The final curtain call, despite all the sneers and jeers there are some cliques that everybody subscribes to.

When I was ten years old, I liked books, sports and maths. Now I’m really into nihilism, sleeping pills and crying in the dark. I used to have ambitions beyond seeing tomorrow, but I guess I was expecting too much, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt from history, it’s that you never learn anything from history.


Four prongs on a fork are way too excessive, let’s bring it down to three, water-proof teabags and pedal powered wheelchairs. At least they have a sense of humour.


One more mind-numbing mantra and I might actually believe it. Sometimes I go out for walks to clear my head. I walk by the canal, to look for a bit of nature, but the only greenery is the slimy water beside me. All I want is a hidden space, where I can lie down and drift away, but everywhere is infested by goddamn people, shouting at the sun. They’re oh so full of love, it’s dripping from their pores, they’re overloaded and they spill and vomit their love all over the thirsty grass. No rock has been left uncovered and no bush has not been pissed on. The swans hiss and spit and try and break the arms of anybody who comes near. They stay away, because everybody is scared of those vicious creatures. Even now, nobody messes with the swans.

I get home and all I want to do is go out again. Sometimes when I’m alone I dance to music. I guess you could call it dancing, it’s mostly just herks and jerks and spasms, big, caveman jumps, writhing and twitching on the floor and primal screams. It’s the only time I get any actual catharsis.

AND THIS IT THE END? Is this it? Good lord, what a let-down, what an anti-climax, would only give an average 5/10 and wouldn’t bother purchasing.

I have daily fantasies about going up to some man or woman, and beating them up, and hitting their face until they are unable to get back up. But that is what everybody encourages you to do, so instead, I just sit and let them aggression build and build until it becomes hard to see clearly. I’ve chewed off the last of my nails; I’m now down to skin. My thigh is twitching, my head is shaking, I need something.

The clouds part and there is a heavenly light. The voice of Jesus speaks:

“Come my child, and you will have the peace you have wanted.”

I say; “Don’t patronise me, you SON OF A GUN!” and I rip off his tentacle arm from him, and I find that he is as fishy as me.

Christ, I’ve lost it @T*C&C@~ucutctthohj00iu9yt88t8ftvdvdr77dvdvd7uydt7i

I think I’ve finally lost ith jdrueysrwawws5fy7pp89h8906rwzryuimo//op]p]oio

22nd century schizoid manip[p;]’@;>]{[o0-iu8u90hy87g764w2\23323OHNO!2Wgdkuhjlkuyyjtdfddsesefshefsesehfhsefefssehfshfrtkjtvkmtyvytkjh;kug;iug;iugi;gfiy;fg;iygwait.

It’s gone, it’s all gone now. There is nothing left for anyone.

Oh, well, the intentions were good.

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