I am having some feels. Mostly in the negative column. The sky hangs outside in a gloomy sackcloth and ashes sort of way and I hope they just end all our pain; nuke the world already. Just fucking do it. Why play with all of us like this, tRump [Rapey McPussyhands!] and company of Rapture-billies?
Haven’t we humans earned that right to go off to hell in a blaze of incredibly silly mushroom cloud glory?
Humans have hated each other since…well, it depends on if you’re a Young Earth Creationist or an Old Earth Creationist or not a creationist at all, because it’s a post-fact world!
Not everyone is equal but everyone’s opinions are equal, as long as you’re not one of them funny folks. Your opinions, as long as you’re one of the good sorts, should be treated as tenderly as tender little newborns, because that’s the First Amendment!! [It’s not, I’m being, like, totally sarcastic, in case some of you are repulsed or nodding, yeah yeah, she’s got it!] I’ll treat you to some Second Amendment if you disagree with me. [Or the charming and lovely threat of going 2A on someone’s ass. Charming. Lovely.] FAKE NEWS is everything but what I like! Up is down! Cats are now dogs!
Let’s just call it a day, shall we? Goodbye, planet earth and all who dwell here! Is it over yet?
Oh why so gloomy, it’s almost Christmas!
Shut up, brain worm!
Why don’t you make some cinnamon rolls?
Oooh! Ah…all that work and they’re gone in about five seconds.
Make two batches, you dippy broad.
How very patriarchal of you.
CINNAMON ROLLS. CINNAMON ROLLS NOW.
Shut up, Norma Rae brain worm!
Nobody’s gonna get that reference.
Sure they will. Norma Rae is a symbol of the strength of the worker uniting against…oh. You’re right. Norma Rae and her ilk are as dead as we all will be as soon as someone presses that button. Dead dead dead. Dead!
I didn’t ask for some commie liberal bullshit, did I? Cinnamon rolls are good. They contain forgetting powers.
Cinnamon rolls are Jesus. They will save you! Jesus rose from the dead, cinnamon rolls rise, um, and there’s yeast. Yeah.
Are you insane? Brain worm, are you…insane? Can’t you, um, hit me with some giant idea, something that will occupy me for a couple days and maybe even turn into a novel?
Why? No one’s reading your shit or buying it. Why bother? There. I can be gloomy, too. Now go wait for the end as those rolls bake. Or you can buy them in a tube at the Canned Food Store. Ooooh, yum! Canned cinnamon rolls, tasty! You’re right. Why make them from scratch and then post pictures on social media? Buy a tube of em, and post that on social media.
Why are we having this conversation?
Because you’ve fallen between the cracks and it’s only amusing and horrible to you. Also, you’re the one typing, not me. I have no fingers. I am a worm. I’m an imaginary worm that lives in your brain. This is all you, baby.
Is this what it feels like right before insanity wipes your sanity away?
What? Uh. Sure. Why not. Cinnamon rolls now?
You’re a simple creature.
Well, yeah. I’m a worm. Oh hey, why not write about current events? How the UN plot to rule the world is finally coming true…
Fuck off. I’m not one of those people.
You could be. Wanna try it? Go on! Accept that the UN is a powerfully evil, yet horribly inept super-group poised to rule the world via depopulating the earth via vaccines and birth control and feminists. Oh and that those black helicopters. And HER EMAILS. And how the moon landing was faked by the UN to fund raise.
I’m not quite there yet. It sounds great, don’t get me wrong. Giving myself over to total nonsense sounds oh so glorious right now. To just let go and swim in those waters! I bet my bank account would start bulging in the right direction. I could write about…oh. Stop it, you fucking worm!
Tee hee!! I’ll be here all your life! Try the veal!
You do know what veal is?
Cute baby cows cut up into cutlets?
Cinnamon rolls now? You’ve been watching those Great British Baking Show shows. You know you want to plunge your lady hands into sticky dough and create baked goods, create a product somebody actually wants. You also have a bit of crush on that grumpy…
Wow. You’re a mean worm.
I really am. Thanks for noticing. Now go buy some tubed rolls! Stop being such a Millennial fussbottom. You’re old now. Old. Ohhhhhh-ld.
My hair is still wet. I was told not to go outside if my hair was wet, especially in winter. We’re the same age. Did you forget that?
Are we still talking? I thought you were done pretending some brain worm pretended to hold a conversation with you that you wrote out for others to not read. Is that even close to being correct grammatically? Asking for a friend.
Fine. Celery and tepid water it is.
Are you a gloomy little muffin still? Are you all better now??
I thought we were done talking, brain worm.
I have a name.
I’d have to look through my earlier posts to find it. How about Ratface Barfwoozle?
Um, no. Why don’t you spend the afternoon reading up on the UN…and I’ll take a nap. Maybe cue something up on Netflix. I hear good things about Stranger Things. Maybe catch up on my Game of Thrones. Didn’t Jon Snow sleep with his aunt or something?? I’m tingling!
You don’t have Netflix.
No. You don’t have Netflix. I’m a brain worm. I’m a limitless being. Bye!