How Early Ol' Days, Spinach, Cupids and Geometrical Tolerance Can Shape a Baby Into a Person

When I was being born I promised to myself to spend the first few years of my life as a baby. My thought process amounted to more or less the following: "Fuck it, been stuck for months up in here stewing like a beheaded chicken carcass thrown into a boiling cauldron somewhere in a witch's hut in the far corner of the world. Might as well treat myself to some free service twenty-four seven. Year in, year out. Baby."

I was a good, sweet child o' my parents. Sweet like a bag of sweets and good like a person who jumps in front of another person to take a bullet for them and save their life even though this scenario's portrayal in movies and television has shifted our perception of it to be entirely believable where in truth it is impossible to intercept a fired round unless someone is an absolute Wizard of Anticipation and knows exactly when to undertake appropriate muscle motions. Even then, depending on numerous factors such as distance, velocity and shot placing among others, it is possible for the bullet to pierce through the first body and hit the second one as well. One would have to be really unlucky. Well, two people would have to be really unlucky but the person behind would have to be more unlucky. On second thought, the first person gets killed in almost every scenario so... Nevermind.

Point is, well, maybe I wasn't THAT good but I always slept during nights except when I didn't in which case I was awake. Was never one for crying either except rare instances when I had tears in my eyes. If that ever occurred then I usually had a damn good reason for it. For example, I was uncomfortable a lot of the time. Uncomfortable like a tired old sofa that even the blind family dog refuses to lie on anymore because it's creaky (noisy) and it smells. Creaky and smells. If I was a nut, these would be the contents of my shell. Creaky and Smells. Sounds like a children's cartoon jingle about cupid detectives.

Creaky and Smells solving some crii-ii-imes
Always alert, bit goofy at tii-ii-imes
Friends for life, doing good, having fun!
Using the power of love instead of a gun!
[bridge]
Creaky and Smells oh Creaky and Sme-e-ells
Cupid detectives on their way to he-e-elp
We need them because they're so nice and good!
Chasing down baddies like real lawmen should!

Which is great because there's plenty of bad men SATANS EVEN! in the world who WANT TO HURT YOU AND YOUR FAMILY. YES YOU IN PARTICULAR. AND YOUR FAMILY. They hacked into the NSA satellites and are targeting you as we speak. One of their HQs just dispatched a black van headed for your address. You can't do shit now and IMAGINARY CUPID DETECTIVES WON'T HELP. TOO LATE NOW. REST IN PEACE FUCKERSSS! HATE cupids and bastards and cupid bastards and this stupid motherfuckin' job.

"Oh for shit's bells, who's been fucking around with the recorder?! Jim, you again?! That was your last chance. Your ass is fired!" an authoritative voice would yell.

Creaky and smells. Basically, I was an old person.

Except I was technically young. But I will be creaky and I will smell once again, I guess. If I live long enough. If I die before I reach that state it won't make any difference anyway. Right before my death, in the final moments of my life, I'll be old. As old as I can ever be. Then I'll know. I'll understand. I think. Something.

People say we as humans always go full circle. I find this casual geometrical racism quite upsetting. What's wrong with a square? Does every square look the same to you, you round, boring, geometrically insensitive people? Fuck. When I was eighteen months old I first started to notice the ever-present discrimination in all areas of life and death. I would sit at the table on my special chair and muse about the state of the society and sometimes... Sometimes I'd break down. I would cry out, I would weep and I would spit out that awful spinach mash that was being forced down my throat by people who had "PARENT" written on their life uniforms, just like mechanics have "MECHANIC" written on their job uniforms. Everyone has to have a title in this world. Everything needs a branding, like a cattle, a hot iron induced burn mark that renders people more easily identifiable and cataloguable.

I do like spinach now, though.

Spinach has changed me, actually. It's my buddy now. When I was a baby I didn't see myself ever changing. Always thought I'll grow old just the way I was. Old. And when I become old, I'll be young again. But when I reached my fifth year on this sorry-ass planet it all began to unravel in my head. Realizations came flooding in like previously suppressed large amounts of water that now consumed and devoured defenseless, hopeless villages and villagers, villagers in villages built at the base of the mental dam. Change. There blew a wind. It was of change. I suddenly found myself understanding spinach, hell, liking it. I would sit for hours chewing baby spinach leaves which was ironic because I just stopped being a baby and I was basically eating babies and the thought of me being eaten by a grown up spinach just a year earlier when I still qualified for it... Ugh.

But it wasn't all bad though. Those were good times. There were good times. Fuck yeah, I swear. I could do things and get away with them. I could fiddle with toys and objects and human emotions and everyone would just laugh it off because I was a baby. I didn't have to worry about a great deal of things except for the world and the direction it's heading in and the overall deterioration of humanity and the beckoning downfall of civilization. I think I saw it first. At the age of three I became Harbinger of Doom so it was a lot to take in in my first few years but, well, I managed. It made me stronger. Looking back, I can't really complain. After all, I was being fed food for free, put to bed with love and care, had my ass wiped for me without a flinch of an eye.

Can't wait to grow old/young.

Creaky and Smells oh Creaky and Sme-e-ells

Full circle. Square. Triangle. Trapeze. Et cetera. Full et cetera.

We have to remember. Geometrical tolerance will shape our new, better tomorrow. It's the only way we can still save this planet. Should we fail, we will be back to square one. Circle. Triangle. Trapeze. Rhombus. Motherfuckin' rhombus.

Apocalypse Is Now, Through Social Media

It was year 2015. I was already running late to see a friend of mine. We'd always create an event of meeting each other in Goggle Foods restaurant on Thursday afternoon to reminisce about old times. Particularly events that have occurred on Thursdays.

I finally made my way to the restaurant where my friend was waiting for me. He had an impatient look on his face and was ready to use a messenger to message me.

"What is app, dude!" I greeted him.

"Hi. Finally. I was beginning to think you wouldn't even make it in time for the #FFs tomorrow," he joked.

"Sorry, got a bit caught up in an argument. Someone's been tagging me and I didn't like it. No #comment. I've unfriended and blocked them now so I hope it's gonna be alright."

A waitress approached. She was wearing cool glasses even though her sight was perfect.

"#Greetings, can I take your order? Currently trending are #PancakesReportedForSpam, ten times shared #InstaRisotto, and our speciality, #Kim'sLard," she offered.

"No, #ThankYou. I'd like this 140 character #sushi with a brightened up Valencia filter on it, an #AppleJuice, looped ten times, and a glass of loved #redvino," I said.

"And for you, #sir?" she asked my friend.

"Let's see... I'll take a #decent #spaghetti, twice reblogged, an eyeOS salad with the recent 11.1 update and a cheeky DM to drink."

The waitress wrote it all down on her tablet and disappeared behind a corner.

"Man, this is my favourite place. Loved it ever since I've stumbled upon it five years ago. I would give it a thousand likes if I could. But the #prices have gone way up recently. Food's cheaper on #Nile now."

"Tell me about it. It gives me a sad emoji. Economy's gone to shit since @improvidentgareth55 became President. I regret retweeting him during the elections. I've pinned my hopes on him. I would have retweeted @damien_shrewd now if I could."

"Oh well, his #selfies and #programme were convincing, AND he was advertising the newest 5.4 GreenRobot software," I gasped and we both dived into our phones to check BassFeet news. 

Ray Cyst's Musical

(Man #1)
I love to wear a flowing white robe…
My infamy has spread across the globe…
(Man #2)
My eyes are glowing behind two holes…
I know I ain't winnin' popularity polls…
(Man #1)
They're saying about us things mean and rude…
That we're robbin' decency hidden behind a hood…
(Man #2)
Those accusations wound us very hard and deep…
Sometimes I wanna quit but I got vows to keep…

(Both)
But as we jump around
Hand in hand
Feeling white pride
You gotta understand
WE ARE…
People, people, PEOPLE!
Never too late to hate!

Never too late to hate!

(Man #2)
If you are a member of an ethnic group…
Your friendship would be for us quite a coup…
Just follow me closely to this alleyway…
It will be even better if you're gay…
(Man #1)

Listen to him, he is always right…
He will set you free toward the light…
Can you see it? A view to admire…
Don't worry; it's just a bit of fire…

(Both)
Ooooooh!
Ridin' horseback in unisex dressing
Flaming hearts, burning crosses
We'll count our blessings
You count your losses!
We'll count our blessings
You count your losses!

(Both) (Choir)
And as we jump around
Hand in hand
Feeling white pride
You gotta understand
WE ARE…
People, people, PEOPLE!
Never too late to hate!
Never too late to hate!

(Man #2)
But after the sun rises again in the dawn…
(Man #1)
The dawn?
(Man #2)
Gotta clean up this mess from our front lawns…
(Man #1)
Front lawns?
(Man #2)
Nobody wants to pay us a single dollar…
(Man #1)
A single dollar?
(Man #2)
They only buy copper, not dead men of color…
(Man #1)
What shame!

(Man #2)
So we have to put our most prized possession…
In our pure white hearts, despite your aggression...
(Man #1)
See, we are our own masters, we decide our fate...
Now we race to a parade to exhibit our hate...

(Both)
Hate, hate!
Heil, heil!
Hate, hate!
Heil, heil!

(Both) (Choir)
Still we jump around
Hand in hand
Feeling white pride
You gotta understand
WE ARE…
People, people, PEOPLE!
Never too late to hate!
Never too late to hate!

(Man #2)
But wait, wait, wait
(Man #1)
What is it?
(Man #2)
A realization struck me after all our stunts
(Man #1)
A what?
(Man #2)
There's no way to say it without being blunt
(Man #1)
Tell me!

(Man #2)

We might be by our brothers forever shunned

(Man #1)
Come on!

(Man #2)
Hey, hey, hey, we are racist cunts!
(Both) (Choir)
We are racist cunts!
We are twats in spiky hats!
Homophobic cunts!
We are twats in spiky hats!

WE... ARE... CUUUUUNTS!