Every Thing Is Wrong

Look, I don't want this. You might not want to. But if you're here, reading this nonsense, it's because you want to torture yourself a little, right? Excellent.

My life is more monotonous than a silent film without subtitles. And believe me, I've already tried watching one. A complete disaster. And, o.k., but I warn you: it's also more uninteresting than watching the shower drops fall. And look, I do this. Oh! And you'll probably be completely disposable to me, so please don't be hurt when I do something to get you off my mind.

And about my name... don't make me laugh. Names are for normal people, and I, well, I'm an original. An original with an ego the size of the universe, but with the social capacity of, and, the size of, an amoeba. But come on, let's pretend you care. What is your name? No, you don't need to answer. I'm not a mind reader, unfortunately. Or fortunately, depending on your point of view. But I don't care that much.

In reality, I stopped caring about many things, for example, I don't usually care about anything that other people find important.

For example: If you become so attached to a dog or any other animal, this could end up being your weak point. If you think about it, things we hold onto can be reasons for such an easy bribe that some would pay a lot to get them back.

And you know, people get attached to the strangest things. Dogs, cats, that cracked mug that grandma gave you... nonsense. I hold on to much more interesting things, like my incredible ability to be a complete idiot.

But, a dog? Serious? An animal that licks your face and leaves you all hairy. And do you still pay to take care of him? It's almost like a bad investment, you know? Just imagining myself repulses me so much that an animal licks my face.

Oh, but don't take me seriously. I'm just here to ruin your day. And look, I'm very good at it.

Oh yes, I forgot -not that I consider it important-. I'm going to start making my form before I start creating images that imagine what I look like and when, later on, I end up having a tantrum because I imagined everything wrong.

Go for me. If you like reading and the writer doesn't describe the character beforehand and you imagine everything wrong, and in the end the character is the opposite of everything you imagined to be wrong, that's shit.

Do I look like a teenager? Ha-ha-ha! What a joke! I am a twenty-eight year old young man, with the emotional maturity of an amoeba and the intelligence of a stone. Oh yes, and the hair? Don't even ask, it's a work of art that only I can appreciate. A skin? Well, besides, vitamin D is not my friend. As for gender, I'm as fluid as a river, but don't be fooled, I'm basically a bag of sloth with superpowers

Satisfied? Excellent. Now let's get down to business.

Let's be friends? Or enemies? Or maybe we could be something even more interesting: complete strangers who hate each other but secretly admire each other. After all, who doesn't admire an evil genius, even if he's a complete failure? Or are you ready to be my guinea pig? Maybe you would prefer to be my fan?

No, right? I just need someone to talk to, as long as it's not Jeffrey, and unfortunately you're the one. Get ready for an epic journey through my sick mind, filled with evil plans, lame jokes, and a dash of self-deprecation.

Until one day, everything changed. A burger. Yes, a simple burger. But it wasn't just any burger. It was a burger with the soul of a samurai warrior and the flavor of an angel's kiss. And that's when I realized that my life no longer had meaning. After all, how can you compete with the perfection of a burger?

#

The sun, an incandescent intruder, dared to illuminate me. What presumption! As if I, a being of superior intelligence, needed the light of an average star to exist. But that's okay, have fun while it lasts. After all, the sun is like these readers: ephemeral and easily manipulated. Without a hint of prejudice towards readers.

I opened my book, a cooking manual for aliens. A masterpiece of uselessness, perfect for a brain like mine. On each page, a new recipe for a dish more bizarre than the other. Roasted zombie brain with extraterrestrial gland sauce? Delicious.

My stomach growled with every sentence about the food. How audacious for an organ.

So I picked up my cell phone and started dialing a number related to fast food. There was a small conversation between me and the attendant:

-Hello, fast food, Fast and Steak, your hunger is our joy.

-Happiness? -I murmured- I want a burger. The most grotesque you can find.

– Would you like a chimpanzee brain burger with petroleum jelly? – the attendant's voice was an invitation to madness.

– Excellent suggestion. And don't forget the French fries, fried in used motor oil.

The attendant was perplexed and let out a low laugh. A horrible sound, like the scraping of nails on a blackboard. But that's okay, other people's stupidity always amuses me. I laughed at his stupidity as soon as I hung up. Ignorance is the true disease of humanity.

I spent five minutes laughing like an idiot and clapping my hands like a malnourished seal out of water. And this just proved how much I need therapy ASAP. But, although I even go to therapy, with one of my private employees, but I do.

The delivery man arrived a few minutes later, less than half an hour, thank heavens. I sent one of my employees to look for it, because, as everyone knows, I hate going out in public, due to the trauma of some idiots out there.

I got up and went to the white kitchen of my house. My waiter, Jeffrey (my favorite), placed the cute package on the long, spacious table.

-Jeffrey -I say, looking at him seriously- Could you please sit with me?

-Of course.

He sat at the other end of the table. I opened the package and.... The smell was irresistible. My eyes started to water and I felt my heart speed up a little. I broke a piece for Jeffrey, especially because I couldn't eat in front of him without him eating a piece, not even a crumb.

I bit into that beauty as a snack. The filling gently escaped the edges with each bite, making me dirty with every step. I noticed that Jeffrey loved it too, as he discreetly licked his fingers.

-Hmm - I murmured, after taking the last bite of it.

-I see you liked it. -Jeffrey began, cleaning his fingers on a cloth. I did the same.

-Ah, yes, my dear, yes. I've never eaten anything like this. -I stopped for a moment and thought- Maybe it was because I ordered the attendant to put double the amount of everything. I imagine people function better when they are ordered.

-Perhaps. If you'll excuse me... - I nodded, while he got up and took my plate away and left.

#

Ahhh, how I sighed at that moment. How I had found the love of my life in a simple hamburger. As I had never felt anything like that moment.

I must admit, of course, that it was a great experience. And since then, I buy at least two of these burgers a day.

I was very excited to see it, I mean the burger.

It's funny to know that we can find love in food. I imagine that maybe foods understand me better than people. Since some of them were airheaded enough to ignore me for ten long years. But! This is already in the past. MUAHAHAHA! (That was my evil laugh, in case you didn't understand).

And, I know, you might even say: "Ah, but how are you, and, can you be so hypocritical!?". That's a great question, My Unknown Person! Yes, I am a hypocrite. Of course not in all ways, but in some ways like this, I am. That's why your opinion or that of any other asshole -not, of course, that you are necessarily an asshole, BUT...- is not my place.

Oh, people! They left me lost in so many dark alleys, that today I find myself in a moonless alley. Before, I cursed them in languages ​​that don't even exist, but now, with the wisdom that life has given me, I see that it's all just a big cosmic joke. One of those where you are the jester and still pay the entrance fee.

Just imagine, they abandoned an innocent child in an orphanage so smelly that even the rats wore masks. A true luxury spa, don't you think? But let's leave the past behind, after all, who cares about a little mouse poop and screams from hungry children? Children's things, you know?

Is the reader bored? I need to come up with something more ridiculous to keep you hooked on this story.