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Really short blurb "space ghost" help please

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[I]i don't like to write im not even good at it. in a sence of puncuation and sentance structure. i have no idea what im doing. i just read lullaby and fell asleep when i woke up this was on my mind. In a drunken/sleep state i wrote this whole thing. please tell me what you think and feel free to pull out all stops. Also i would like some help with my spelling, puncuation, and sentence structure. Any response are greatly appreciated[/I]

"Pinch it off" was the hot whisper in my right ear. A hairy left arm curled around my neck as I felt a cold steel O against my right temple. Warm wetness dripped down my thigh and drenches my hand. Thoughts, like a handful of pickles smacked against a window but not one of them sticks. Not one single thought, idea, or scheme sounds plausible in this mess. My neck is cocked and my jaw is trying to keep this hairy arm down. Being dragged backwards I clench the arm with both hands like I’m doing pull ups. Cowboy boots have no traction. Especially on a tile floors covered with questionable water. In that split second I thanked god I don’t wear cowboy boots. I also thanked god that someone had pulled the knob off the paper towel handle. Now that handle has no trouble going through a pony tail. It also didn't seem to struggle too much piercing the skin at the base of a skull. It’s a good thing they have paper towels instead of hand dryer. Hand dryers suck at cleaning up blood.

This one I guess I would call it a daymare. I love them every single one. In a crisis situation you always luck out. You always play it cool like you don’t give a fuck. In real life it’s never like that. I guess that’s why I love them there mine. Some people cover them up like some sort of small nail hole. They make a putty 1 part medication (either self or prescription) 1 part media. Then they smooth it over with something like a credit card. No one will ever know about your ghost in a closet. Skeletons don’t have that much action. Ghost can always just be there sometime unnoticed. Me I just wish I could stop checking over my shoulder it messes with my aim. I also wished they had hand dryers instead of paper towels. Paper towels suck at getting urine out of shorts.

Truth and fear are like hollow points; tiny entrances, but gaping exits usually resulting in new curtains or wallpaper. Suppression and no acceptance is a classic recipe for disaster. Throw in a few shots of Jaeger, a dash of social awkwardness, and stir vigorously. In that hazy morning after a night full of blackness you will never be the same. Your friends will all be there for your hung-over arrival to reality. Then the moment of truth were your friend ask you “how long?” then an ex ask “should I be tested?” I never usually say much in these situations. I’m usually in the background just there but never [I]really[/I] there if you know what I mean. All I know is I wish more places had those papery horse shoe shaped seat covers. Plastic sucks at keeping things sanitary.