Fuck Hard At Farm House

Why does it hurt so much?“I think he is coming out of it,” I heard a female voice say. “Mr. Wilson? Mr. Wilson? You are going to be okay.”“O...ay?” Is that what I heard, “Okay?” I would think if you are dead, it would either mean things are going to be wonderful (heaven), or things are going to be awful (hell), but not just “okay.”And why would the angels ... or demons ... be calling me “Mr. Wilson?” Isn’t my name supposed to be written down in some book somewhere? Shouldn’t they know my first. He wandered around for a while, trying to settle down. As the sun set he found himself in the park downtown. The sound of the fountain drew him to sit down. When he was younger, he used to use the sound of water to clear his mind and relax him for Dream. He found it still worked. He imagined the water washing away his troubles, carrying him away to a happy place. Corny, but effective. So much so that it was after ten when he finally left.No one was in the building when he arrived; the squeak in. More

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