...like a fuckin' deformed puppy

I am so glad you called, farmboy. I have been so worried...

I'm sorry. I just couldn't fuckin' do it any longer.

Do what?

Whatever. It doesn't matter. Every fuckin' thing I do turns to shit.

farmboy...

Look, okay, I'm not gonna kill myself, okay? I shouldn't have mentioned anything. But it's not just money and it's not just that I...I don't know what...I think maybe I need to stop going to the coffeehouse for awhile...maybe a long while.

See, what I meant is that I may have to do some research about the various ways of killing yourself, because there's a good chance that that's where my life will lead. I can't do this forever, this...life of fuckin' poverty, where people are just out there with their fuckin' hands open for more money all the fuckin' time and our own fuckin' government has turned into our enemy. Things don't change for me. This is my fuckin' curse in life, man. You fuckin' work and put in effort and none of it means a fuckin' thing. And I do not see what my alternative is. I'm gonna be old and I will have no one to help me, much less our fuckin' government.

Well, fuck all these people, and fuck the hand of fate that gave me such a fucked-up childhood...

Wait a minute. You've never told me...

And I'm not gonna tell you now. Ain't no way. Fuckin' fucked up life of loneliness. I've fuckin' had it. Even my so-called friends at the coffeehouse -- fuck them. They ask me to play and then take it back? I don't see them taking themselves back. The only fuckin' thing I'm good at and God knows I'm just a fuckin' failure...

farmboy, stop...

NO!

I am so fuckin' angry. I should have been drowned...

farmboy...

...like a fuckin' deformed puppy, man. Fuck the coffeehouse, fuck the fuckin' public school system in this stupid fucked-up city. I should have never left Austin, man. Fuck the Pacific Northwest and its pretentious precious ways.

Listen, farmboy...

I am NOT gonna listen. I need help, man. I've got this fuckin' mental illness, I've got this fuckin' poverty, I am alone, I am ugly, I am untalented, I am stupid, all that stuff everybody told me I was. I cannot sing. Make sure I don't sing. (starts sobbing) Fuck, man, I have so much hate right now that's it's ripping my heart apart...

farmboy...

And you can't help me. Nobody can help me. I should have put myself out of my misery a long long time ago. There are some things that can't be fixed, and I am one of them.

I need to go, man. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't worry, I'm too much of a fuckin' pussy to commit suicide. But I can't fuckin' take this brain of mine any more.

Hey, farmboy, it's...

(the phone is hung up on farmboy's end)