Subliminal White Trash

Welcome. This site contains a cross section of my writing including stories, comedy skits, dialogues and observational humour with a satirical edge. Feedback is much appreciated. Coming through people! Clear a path! My e-mail is kevincpearce@yahoo.com

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Location: Burlington, Ontario, Canada

After graduating high school in 1995 with a significant amount of embarrassingly cliched emotional baggage, Kevin "Subliminal White Trash" Pearce made his way to Toronto in a perfectly understandable attempt to outrun his past. After encountering many similarly desperate and stubbornly eccentric people, Kevin found his way into the acting and spoken word scenes. With an amazing and almost inhuman effort, Kevin somehow negotiated through his self destructive tendencies on his way to finding some kind of second rate enlightenment in his strange little world of reckless, impulsive creativity. After spending three years in Toronto, Kevin decided to return to the suburbs in order to preserve his diminishing supply of mental health. Sometimes he even thinks it was the right decision.

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Trevor - A Christmas Story

This was written around the millenium.  I thought I'd re-post it in all its absurd glory.

     It was Christmas eve and the church was buzzing with open heart surgery love. Jane March and her department store catalogue family were sitting in the front pew, blessed and fully dressed. The 8 o'clock service was about to begin, after all, and the people wanted servicing. Just as the minister approached his flock, a middle aged man named Trevor walked through the entrance. Trevor was well known to the church. He was mentally handicapped but served on just about every church comittee he could in hopes that he could one day play video games with God. Trevor was a bit of a lonely sort and his heart jumped when he saw Jane beckon him over to sit with her family who, incidentally, had never been scuba diving. As the service began, Jane introduced Trevor to her family as they took their seats. Jane and Trevor chatted during convenient pauses in the service, floating along on an ever expanding cloud of good cheer and an absence of reptiles. Suddenly, Trevor reached over and gently squeezed Jane's thigh. Jane felt confused for a moment but figured it was a gesture of holiday goodwill and the conversation continued. About thirty seconds later Jane noticed a certain look in Trevor's eyes that she couldn't quite place in her mind. It was then that Trevor leaned over with his tongue hanging out and gave Jane a sloppy kiss right on the lips, followed by a fart that reverberated proudly off the smooth wood where he sat. The minister took two steps to his right and smacked Trevor on the back of his head. Trevor jumped out of his seat and with one swift movement, knocked the minister flat on his back. He then jumped on top of Jane and started dry humping her with reckless abandon. Jane's family and the rest of the congregation watched in horror as Trevor unleashed years of sexual frustration on his helpless victim. If the truth be told, Jane's husband found some level of enjoyment at the proceedings even if he would never admit it. After what seemed like an unholy eternity, Jane's oldest son wrestled Trevor off his mother where he pinned him to the carpet in the aisle. Trevor began to wail like a newborn once he accepted defeat, soiling himself in the process. Jane sat with a blank stare in her eyes, rocking back and forth in shock. The minister rose to his feet and dragged Trevor out of the church and launched him headfirst into a snowbank, temporarily forgetting his Christ complex. Jane's family took her home and the service continued while Trevor unleashed a river of tears face down in the snow. After a few minutes he walked up the street and grabbed a porno mag and a cheeseburger and began to walk home, alive in a way that few could ever dare hope to comprehend.

Note: This story is not a slight to the mentally handicapped in any way. If this material offends you go watch Friends or something. Isn't everyone on that show handicapped? And people LOVE it.


I usually stay away from writing rhyming poems but this one based on a dream just kind of fell into place.

dream poem

I don't have God or the Devil
standing in my way
It seems I already know what people
are going to say
A part of me lost with a price
I can't afford to pay
as I try to honestly
greet another day
What could have been
is forever here to stay

random quote:

"I guess he marches to the beat of a different drummer."
"That's no excuse for being an asshole."

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