Their Future Is Mine And “It Hurts Like A Mother Fucker”

Published November 12, 2013 by Larry Fisher

Brooklyn Flea turns out to be perfect. They will make me rich one day. They have given me a wealth of horror story material. Their future is mine. By taking away the flea market I was selling in, which means money is tighter than ever for me and my family, I spend a lot of time creating Gentrification Monster stories in my head as I scramble to keep a roof over my head. I have already written a monster story about Brooklyn Flea, i t is called, “The Monster Dergby.”

In a year or so, I will have at least 20 monster, horror stories about Brooklyn Flea. In the past, I have written about a character who always wanted to create a monster as big as Frankenstein, Dracula and the Wolf man, but always fell short. I think with Brooklyn Flea, I will be able to create that darkness, an eating machine that eats and eats away at a city and itself, It eats its creators. It eats and tastes like reality, but it just eats away at itself. In the end, this creature will just eat itself. It will eat its own bullshit!

I have an idea for a  monster story about two retired monsters who reflect back on a city they destroyed. “Back in the day,”  as they were  destroying the city, they actually believed  they were  doing good community activities; They have brought people closer together because people were terrified  that they were going to eat them out of house and home,”We did good work!”

I have other plans for the book. It will take about a year or two. I want to watch the real  monsters I have met,  grow and collapse. I won’t be around when my grandchildren get to read my book called, The Monstrological Society Presents: “Tales To Astonish Your Children And Keep Them Quiet All Night,” but I hope they will keep  the message about Butler and Demby alive.

I love that Brooklyn Flea truly believe that they have helped a city identify itself. They helped destroy it, and the great thing is they probably don’t want to be here anymore themselves. They hate it here. Isn’t it obvious by them coming into a small market like P.S.321 and not even talking to the vendors who have been there forever, till after they began to understand that they couldn’t bring their type of brand into  that market….They helped build a culture, they would love to run away from…. Maybe they need to go to Maine on a farm, and run into New Yorkers who they helped chase away…Maybe they will run into a bitter New Yorker in Maine on a cold and dreary night. Sounds like another possible horror story right there. I love it!(These guys are great for horror stories.) I recommend anyone who wants to write horror stories to meet these guys.

New Yorkers, real New Yorkers, and real Brooklyn people laugh at “Brooklyn Flea.” Damn, their families probably laugh at them. I know their vendors do. People keep their mouth shut because Demby and Butler have power and money now…but whenever I have talked to anyone about them, there is always, and I mean always, a snicker, or a big laugh about them. I have to yet to meet anyone who likes them, I mean really like them. So, they are also a great source of material for Satirists and Comedians. God, the Brooklyn Flea is turning out to be the best thing in the world for my writing.

Their future is mine. I will think about them for horror stories, and write about them over and over, till I own their darkness, till I have exhausted their Nathaniel West type of satire; “A Cool Million,” comes to mind.

I will give their monster personality as much compassion as I can. All monsters will be well rounded in the Brooklyn Flea stories. One monster will love pets, one will be charitable and not necessarily kill you. I will really give these guys a chance. Every monster deserves a chance to redeem itself and become…human…

I won’t stop till there is a film about their horrors and absurdities. They will become iconic like Darth Vader breathing hard and confessing. I have a big smile on my face thinking about monsters confessing and feeling guilt.

One of the horror stories I am going to write is called “It Hurts Like A Mother Fucker,”  it will be about the metaphorical blinding pain and rage of someone abusing the closest person  to you; your mother. Isn’t that what the expression means…some pain that is so ungodly that it is blinding: imagine, breaking your leg and seeing your bone through your skin; “Hurts like a mother fucker!” How about getting hit in the head, and seeing parts of your face on the floor in front of you. “hurts, like a mother fucker!” This story might end up in “The Monstrological Society Presents: Dark Tales You Read After Putting The Monsters To Sleep.”

This is the rage I feel, this is now me wanting to create monsters from Real Estate gentrification monsters that have continuously come into this city and fucked with it. They don’t last here. They come in and call it their own, till they can’t take it anymore and leave. When they leave, they actually believe their own bullshit and pat themselves on their backs and say, “Good job, we did good right?” But they know in their hearts, if they can find their hearts, that it “hurts like a mother fucker,”


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