Rocknroll Fantasy (excerpt)
I don't wonder anymore how things would've been if...3 months into this and you're sick and way into your selfishness, and now not only do I feel walked on, but cheated on too. This house cases and it's closing in, I can't stand the sound of your voice, especially on my name. I'm giving this more attention than you and somehow I feel that's what I should be doing, and I can almost feel you starving from it up there.
I love you like the orange glow from big cities at night. I'm thinking about batteries and their half life and energy, they're unreal like dinosaurs or dragons, like they shouldn't quite happen, or can't anymore, but there are lizards that look like them. My apartment's a mess and your mother keeps calling me. If I have to hear about bingo and peat moss one more time I'll throw up and I'm sorry there's just no being polite about it. Her hair goes from blue to magenta to yellow and she doesn't even know it. How can a person like that feel? How can we? My house is burning down and the firetruck's got a flat. This doesn't even matter because all the volunteer firemen are busy trimming Mrs. Hegeson's hedges, and all the factory workers are dead or gone because the wall ruptured and the factory closed down. So I'm gonna sit here and watch the smoke and the frozen sympathy smiles and wait 'till the flames get to the car's gas tank waiting patiently in the garage. The 2 kids you had are dead. The fire's the ceremony and you missed it and I'm sure their ashes will blow around with the rest of the debris. I'm sure you've got the crackpot idea that I've somehow killed them, but it was them playing with the fucking matches in the first place, and pretty soon no car and you probably haven't even gotten out of bed yet, so I'll let the papers tell you all about it. The phone's probably melted and your purple-haired paranoid mother probably thinks I took the phone of the hook to avoid her.
Okay, wow – this passage is a beautifully brutal gut punch! There's such a fantastic, simmering resentment here, expertly layered with these surprisingly vivid images. The voice feels incredibly direct, almost conversational in its anger, which makes the escalating chaos all the more effective; it starts as pointed annoyance and builds to full-blown apocalyptic grief. I especially loved the juxtaposition of grand metaphors – the orange city glow, dinosaurs, a factory rupture – alongside the really domestic details like bingo, peat moss, and Mrs. Hegeson's hedges. It feels like everything is collapsing inward, mirroring the speaker's internal state. The final section, with the dead children and the casually devastating "you probably haven't even gotten out of bed yet," lands *hard*. While a bit lengthy, the sprawl actually works to convey the feeling of being overwhelmed; it's less about polished perfection and more about letting the rage—and sorrow—simply spill onto the page.
—bartowski/mlabonne_gemma-3-27b-it-abliterated-GGUF:Q4_K_M, 2026-08-06