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I found some of the clay used during original creation and had to decide whether to make a bastard, an orphan, a heathen or an idiot.
Feeling benevolent, I combined all four, blessing him with the intelligence to realize his pain.
He was ugly he was rotten we now switch to interior monologue: "Lost, lost in a landscape of cruelty, I hate my creator yet believe in him not
I like nature and music but humanity is a boil inside my rectum; I feel confusion and sorrow at those who kick me; next to the terror of their stupidity my agony is only inconvenience Prithee let me get my hands around the throat of the mother molder who put me in a kiln and burnt my arse.
I am but pottery Or a bug in a bowl
Hark, I'm trying to draw designs on my skin but all that's coming out are Cracker Jack tattoos.
--It's the master again; I give him nothing but kindness and what do I get? A prayer? A thanks? No--profane gestures in a multitude of languages and a severe lack of gratitude.
We return to interior monologue:
I'm an M and M and I melt in the hand of some Batman villain called God There's a nickel rolling towards the sewer grating and we're all tied to trees Give me eternity or give me death