Clare Easdown vs. Marcus DiPaola: The World Is Crazy Enough as It Is

 

I Never Had a Gun

VERSE 1

No toxic person has ever left my life

Because of something I said even though I was right

No toxic person was bounced from my house

Because the human body is too heavy to toss out

No toxic person was remanded to prison

Because free speech rights apply to bullies and bigots

I couldn’t stand up for what was just and fair

You need a reason? Let me just clear the air

 

CHORUS 1

Because I never had a gun

A 45 would do just fine

But I never had a gun

A bullet never forced them to be kind

 

VERSE 2

They said instead of violence, just use my words

But my brain locked up, couldn’t find a sick burn

They said to use leadership skills I didn’t have

So that I could be blamed when I finally snapped

They said to use my presence and fake charisma

When the narcissist says something sick and twisted

Master debating never achieved a damn thing

You need a reason? I got a little something to sing

 

CHORUS 2

Because I never had a gun

A bullet teaches lessons better than me

But I never had a gun

So I let them bash and break my self-esteem

 

BRIDGE

Criminalizing anger is how they stay in power

Imprisoning heroes, leave them shanked in the showers

Nothing is ever a power tripper’s fault

Even though they cover corpses with lime powder and salt

But their ears perk up with they hear a click-clack

Their ability to listen will never go back

To the negative part of the government chart

Because bullets are great for creating modern art

 

CHORUS 3

But I never had a gun

Everyone knew what I’d do with it

So I never had a gun

The world had permission to treat me like shit

Because I never had a gun

I couldn’t change the world with one clip

The Screamers

OPENING LINE

I don’t want to get over it

I want you to change your behavior

VERSE 1

Life would be great if it wasn’t for the people

What jerks will you meet? Let’s spin the wheel

It’s not America’s game show, but Russian Roulette

A bullet to the dome is what you’re bound to get

The screamers, the shooters, and everyone between

Barely an inconvenience on the TV news screen

The boogeyman they choose was never at fault

For bringing the economy to a grinding halt

CHORUS

Whenever I want to get on with my life

Always somebody there to bring down the knife

Just when I have the world all figured out

Here come the zealots ready to shoot and shout

The screamers!

The screamers!

Killing all the dreamers!

The screamers!

VERSE 2

Logic doesn’t work on the ones who need it most

They got the muscles of a Chad, brains of burned toast

You can lead a zombie to the doors of a college class

But you can’t make him pull his head out of his ass

CHORUS

Whenever I want to get on with my life

Always somebody there to bring down the knife

Just when I have the world all figured out

Here come the zealots ready to shoot and shout

The screamers!

The screamers!

Killing all the dreamers!

The screamers!

VERSE 3

When someone is too young to be a self-advocate

Their brains are molded by good old sacrament

They grow up to buy their own rifles and ammo

And they shoot up the world while wearing camo

These are the people we share a space with

Yet they call the disenfranchised a democratic myth

CHORUS

Whenever I want to get on with my life

Always somebody there to bring down the knife

Just when I have the world all figured out

Here come the zealots ready to shoot and shout

The screamers!

The screamers!

Killing all the dreamers!

The screamers!

Murder Is Beautiful

VERSE 1
It’s amazing the disputes I can settle with a knife
Could have no more problems for the rest of my life
A blade across your wrists, a blade across your throat
Tie bricks around your ankles, throw you off of a boat
Some of you motherfuckers call it a crime of passion
From a guy who followed all the heavy metal fashions
From a guy who was shit on all throughout school
Nah, I just like bathing in bloody swimming pools

CHORUS 1
Murder is beautiful!
Murder is so sublime!
It’s so worth doing time!
Murder is beautiful!

VERSE 2
It’s astounding the problems I can solve with a gun
One bullet to the dome and it’s all said and done
Or maybe I can blast off your itty bitty dicky
Shoot you in the ass, bleed you like a stuck piggy
Some of you clowns call me a little loony toon
While digging your own graves with a big ass spoon
Maybe I just need a glass of water and some pills
Nah, I’d rather rack up some more of those kills

CHORUS 2
Murder is beautiful!
Murder is so precious!
The fun is so endless!
Murder is beautiful!

VERSE 3
I’ve never been a gangster or a mafia don
I’m just a guy whose sanity is all long gone
Had enough of toxic bitches ripping at my stitches
Opening wounds that should’ve stayed hidden
A baseball bat or a stun gun full of juice
Don’t worry about your legs having no use
You won’t need them where your ass is going
Bombs away! Feel the high winds blowing

CHORUS 3
Murder is beautiful!
Murder is sweet sunshine!
Your ass is forever mine!
Murder is beautiful!
Murder is pretty as fuck!
Murder is a work of art!
Slash your asses apart!
Murder is pretty as fuck!

Spaghetti Western

VERSE 1

A harbinger of things to come

Foreheads spitting out bubblegum

Mexican guitarists playing their strums

Spaghetti western, come get some

CHORUS 1

Hey, Sergio! Keep that camera rolling

Hey, Ennio! Keep that music lulling

Hey, cowboy! Should I shoot your ass again?

Spaghetti western! You’re fucking dead!

VERSE 2

Bullets flying in the Spanish sunset

Dynamite blasting, we ain’t done yet

A fistful of dollars, a bellyful of lead

Spaghetti western, bleed them red

CHORUS 2

Hey, Luigi! Take the role of hero

Hey, Giuseppe! Be my Robert Di Niro

Hey, cowboy! Are you ready for a fight?

Spaghetti western! Let’s light up the night!

BRIDGE

We’re taking over the silver screen

Making the bloodthirsty cream

Is it rated R or somewhere beyond?

This ain’t no time for a family bond

VERSE 3

Another sunset darkens the horizon

Another victory is all mine, son

Another masterpiece caught on film

Spaghetti western, shoot to kill

CHORUS 3

Hey, Mario! Put down the pizza pie

Hey, Nero! Be my blackheart bad guy

Hey, cowboy! Comfy in your grave?

Spaghetti western! You can’t be saved!

Yee-haw!

Dancing with Mary Jane

“Justice will find you!” With blood in her lungs and a slowing pulse, those were the last words of Tara Greenlee after being gunned down by Officers Frank Hennessy and Sylvester James. Her head dropped to the sidewalk and her mouth expelled a puddle of life juices. Everyone around her recorded the scene on their cell phones. Some of them screamed in horror. Others burst into a waterfall of tears. Frank and Sylvester laughed at all of them and rubbed their eyes in mockery. All of this violence over a bag of medical marijuana, which Sylvester was dancing around with and flashing in the faces of bystanders.

Because Tara Greenlee’s killers were on-duty cops, they didn’t get the death penalty or even life in prison for their heinousness. They were suspended with pay for a whole month. There were factory workers, teachers, grocery store clerks, and others who worked their asses off their entire lives without getting so much as a day off. In Paulson City, if you were on the police force, all you had to do to enjoy a month-long vacation was brutalize civilians.

How would Frank and Sylvester spend their vacation? They could have gone on a Caribbean Cruise. They could have gone mountain climbing in the Rockies. They could have sat on their asses on a Florida beach. But since Tara Greenlee’s “contraband” was still in their possession, they had other ideas of how to kill a month quicker than they killed her.

The “festivities” would take place at Officer Frank Hennessy’s house, particularly in his living room where the flat screen TV hung on the wall and a bowl full of potato chips was resting on the marble coffee table. Frank was already stuffing his pudgy, bearded face with chips when there was a knock on the door followed by, “It’s me, Sylvester!” Frank answered the door and the two corrupt cops high-fived and hugged each other like their bromance was much more than that. Frank was especially cheery when his skinny buddy flashed the bag of Mary Jane they had unlawfully taken from Miss Greenlee.

“So, what are we watching tonight, my friend? Are we gonna go all out and watch The Matrix? Maybe we should watch a Tim Burton movie or something. Or how about that Pink Floyd movie!” said a giddy Sylvester James.

“I got something better than all of those,” said Frank. He pulled a DVD out of his collection called “The Best of Both Worlds”, the container showing naked hermaphroditic women drooling for sex.

Sylvester clapped his hands and laughed like a little kid in a toy store. He bounced his way to the couch and allowed Frank to put the DVD in the player. The two rogue cops began rolling up little marijuana cigarettes as the “hot action” was being shown on the video screen. As soon as Frank pulled out a Zippo lighter and lit both of their joints, the two cops sank into the couch like quicksand. With dopey red eyes and drooling smiles, they watched the porn movie with fluttering in their hearts for the double-organ actresses.

The first twenty minutes of the movie revolved around Sylvester and Frank sitting crouched forward to hide their “little problems”. They laughed like donkeys as they smacked each other with couch pillows and jokingly called each other “fags”. The fun and festivities came to an abrupt halt when Frank relaxed in the sofa and started seeing the porn starlets in a much different way.

One of the naked women’s skin started necrotizing into a black and red lava mix. She grew fangs that looked like little daggers as they hung down to her bottom lip. Red scaly dragon wings sprouted from her back. A brown hairy tail sprouted as well. Her fingernails grew to the size of Freddy Kruger’s blades. When she screamed at Frank, she sounded like a grizzly bear ready to maul its helpless prey.

“Dude, is this some good shit or what?” said Sylvester, who at this point looked less like a mop-haired beanpole and more like a fire-eyed zombie with blue skin.

Frank was hard-pressed to disagree with his partner’s statement. “Yeah, man. That bitch had some good shit on her. I love the war on drugs!”

The demonic woman got on all fours and crawled out of the television set, shattering the coffee table upon making her arrival. She let out another beastly roar, which caused Frank to wet his pants and Sylvester to laugh like a fool. “Come on, man, this shit ain’t real! It’s just a hallucination!” said Officer James, who then got his whole head bitten off by the frightening woman.

Frank was crawling over the couch arm and screaming in terror while Sylvester’s headless body squirted a fountain of blood in the air. The demon woman licked her lips after sloppily masticating what was left of her victim’s dome. “Mmmmm, delicious!” she said in a throaty voice before roaring again.

Officer Hennessy crawled on the hardwood floor and let out panicky groans. The demonic woman jumped in front of him and revealed her true face. She now had the scraggly dark hair and bloodshot eyes of Tara Greenlee. Frank got into a fetal position and cried like a little bitch. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what I did! Just please, leave me alone!”

Tara grabbed Frank by his white shirt’s collar pulled his face close to hers, smiling like a skeleton with slimy dental hygiene. “It’s too late for atonement, my friend!” she said in her growling voice. “You took something from me that I fought for since I was a little child! That marijuana was for breast cancer! I was about to make a full recovery when you and that bloody piece of garbage over there shot me in cold blood!” Tara was breathing deeply and grunting in between cadences.

Tears were dribbling down Frank’s cheeks as he kept saying, “I’m sorry!” over and over again. Tara smiled her sick smile at him and chucked him halfway across the room, where he crashed through his desk and screamed with a mixture of fright and pain. The monstrous avenger pointed at Frank Hennessy and laughed while taking pictures of him on a smart phone she produced with her magical powers. She even rubbed her eyes sarcastically and said, “Boohoo!” with even more mockery.

The irony wasn’t lost on Frank, who in his moment of crippling pain and grueling tears felt around for something he could use to defend himself. It was then he remembered the desk was where he kept his pistol. Tara continued to horse laugh, but Frank would have the last word when he found his pistol and opened fire.

Every bullet hole that pierced Tara’s skin let out a volcanic eruption of blood and organs until the whole living room floor was flooded up to Frank’s ankles (now that he was standing on wobbly legs). He limped and trudged through the murky flood until he saw Tara on her knees screaming and crying in agony. “You little bitch!” yelled Frank before he jumped on her and rained down relentless fists upon her horrifying visage. Her cheek bones, nose, and teeth were cracking and splitting with every hard shot. Frank even held Tara’s head under the blood flood in an attempt to drown her. After a while of kicking and bubbling, the demon stopped moving.

Frank, ignorant of the pain he felt crashing through his own desk, held his arms up in victory and shouted, “Yes! How does that feel, you little skank! Nobody screws with the Paulson City Police! Nobody! We’re number one!” He repeated that last line over and over again until the pain finally caught up to him and he passed out on the bloody floor.

A bright new morning was shining its sunlight through Frank’s windows. The rays felt like little flamethrowers against his eyes. His head was thumping like a bass drum. He coughed violently as he woke up for the day. After rolling on his back and slowly opening his eyes, he saw his fellow police officers looking down on him and confirming he was alive.

The cops pulled Frank to his feet and he suddenly got a better view of what was going on around him. No demons. No fangs. No claws. No dragon wings. The only blood stain in the whole living room was the one left behind by Sylvester, who was being carted away on a gurney with a light blue blanket draped over his corpse.

“Franklin George Hennessy? You’re being placed under arrest for the murder of Officer Sylvester Kenneth James. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to legal counsel. If you can’t afford a lawyer, one will be provided to you by the state. Do you have any questions about these rights?” said one of the cops while Frank’s hands were being cuffed behind his back.

Frank did have a question and it was a good one too: “What the fuck just happened here?!”