Shit. I think the mutants are getting in.
Yep. They’re going to eat me.
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Shit. The mutant zombies found my back door. They’re starting to come in. I’ve locked myself up in this room… not much else to report.
Uh Oh. I just remembered I forgot to lock the back door. Be right back… (note to self – why am I writing stage directions?)
I tried to write to pass the time. I’m working on a science fiction story. It’s semi-autobiographical. Except there’s real dinosaurs and not the cybernetic android ones we have. Personally I think it’s kind of stupid.
Man I’m lonely. I wish I had cable… Well I guess I really wish there was an entertainment studio company, a cable channel with a working satellite, and a subscription to the service provider. And I really wish it’d be HBO.
Shoot. It’s snowing acid again. going to have to shovel the walk tomorrow…
I stayed in bed all day. Nothing to report. Where does belly fuzz come from?
It’s been the real cream of crap.
The sun splotches with green goo shimmering in the sunlight.
Looks like the mutants are coming out again. Damn mutants.
I sit here brewing a cup of comet coffee and stare at the pixel screen looking for the words to begin the last blog on the face of the Earth. What alien being will discover these transcripts of West Germanic lettering, decode them into 1’s and 0’s and then reprocess them in their foreign alphabet soup language?
Will anyone care about the banal moments of a man waiting to die, shotgun in one hand, can of Old Hormel Bald Eagle Chili meat in the other, and his pet coffeemaker loyally by his side?
Does our history matter once the mutants feast on the memories stored in my pink fleshy brain? Will it matter that not too long ago, the greatest country in the world, Facebook, united our species together under the one true religion of SOCIAL MEDIA? Connecting us with poetry, philosophy, art, and hardcore pornography?
That under the command of His Holiness, His excellency and President for Life, Field Marshall, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of all beasts on land, fishes of the sea, bloggers of the web, Conqueror of the ethers of the internet but Facebook in particular, and one hell of a guy, Ashton Kutcher jr. we dared to Google Map the sun.
And that much like Icarus, who flew too close and plummeted back to Earth, we briefly touched the toenails of God, only to be slapped in the face with extra terrestrial sun radiation that transformed the grace of the human body to a collection of bizarre looking fetus butts, and fecal faces, only good for one thing, space slag?
Damn you, you human eating mutant zombies.
Or maybe, with a brief light of optimism, cast by the last remaining rays of a dying star, are there other humans who haven’t been vaporized into ash, and look forward to the gentle touch of humanity, some small insight into an unforgiving world? To perhaps connect (if only through a sterile screen) through man’s most basic desire: to tell and to listen.
One thing’s for sure, these past few weeks have been the real cream of crap.
