Superpowers/Bullshit man

Kyllan and I are in the lab, seated side by side, staring at the ceiling and remembering Michael. We declared him persona non grata with our world. Since I am off my medication that was meant to fix my neurochemicals, I am revisiting all the decisions I made when my neurochemicals were not working right. Kyllan suggests reinstating Michael’s status in the family hence the ceiling staring and the blasting of Two Steps from Hell’s Strength of a Thousand Men.

We get interrupted by a knock on the door. I check my security cameras. It is a delivery man. I send Kyllan to get the food that I had ordered. Kyllan passes Konan in the living room. She is bouncing her tit ass off the floor. He gets to the door, opens it, aggressively snatches the food from the poor delivery man and shuts the door.

He gets to the living room. Konan and I are playing. I am on the floor and Konan is now bouncing on me. She is such a squishy tit. We stop bouncing as soon as we see Kyllan is back. Konan, is rather famished from all the bouncing and decides to eat everything in one gulp.

Two weeks later

The world is in shambles. Nobody can lie. Marriages have been broken. All of social media has shut down. Governments are not quiet on everything unless it is the truth. There are no more advertisements on television. Politicians cannot campaign anymore. Parents can no longer lie about where children came from. Religious people are having the toughest time as they come to the realization that faith and truth are not synonymous.

This is all happening because Konan has become BULLSHIT MAN. Remember all the food she ate two weeks ago after spending all day bouncing? Yes, turns out there was something in the food that gave her powers to detect bullshit. So, every time a human on planet earth lies, Konan appears in front of them, shouts BULLSHIT! and then sticks one of her nipples into their mouths so they shut up.

Just another day torturing my colleague

I should do this again, with Kyllan.

A nice thing happened at work

Sigh! Someone reported me at work and now I have to write an article about my professional journey so it can be posted on the organization’s website to serve as inspiration to members of the human race that will come across it. I wish I knew which of my tasks led up to this then I would have an idea of the person that reported me (it wouldn’t change anything if I knew anyway). The email I received from the communications department did not mention who had reported me. I asked to include my supervisor in my story. He was very excited as he had no knowledge of this. So, if he wasn’t the one that reported me, who did? I should mention that I do not like to be seen, I love the darkness and blending in the background. I wish I could write it anonymously or use a pseudo name.

It’s been two weeks since I got the news. I have been expertly procrastinating thinking about what I would like to jot down to inspire a young African girl. I even have to share a few photos of me working. Will I have to invite my neighbour to come to my house and take photos of me as I work? I have two friends. I will call one of them. I don’t know any of my neighbours. I moved to a new apartment and decided not to be friendly with my neighbours because I have had bad experiences with neighbours that have no knowledge of what a boundary is and why people set them. I would not want to unwillingly end up taking illegal drugs and have a one-hour phone call with my ex-partner only to wake up and realize that it was my cousin I talked to for that hour, again. I might need to dress up for the photos. Maybe get rid of the legal drugs on my table so nobody thinks that I am doing a great job despite my illness. The drugs are all prescribed by the doctor for my mildly acidic stomach that gets angry whenever I introduce beans to my gut.

I guess I am coming to terms with this. I might even come up with a concept in my sleep.

Just another day torturing my colleague

I am feeling dark today, so I have set all my gadgets to a dark theme so it matches my heart and create the best possible mood for my ensuing thoughts.

My very incompetent micromanaging racist colleague is at it again. What shall we do to her today?

I know a chemist that owes me a favour. Time to collect some helium gas.

As soon as she gets home, she will find me waiting for her in her bedroom. I will be behind the door. As soon as she opens the door to the bedroom, I will shut it behind her and knock her out.

While she is unconscious, I will carry her to her bed and have her lie on her tummy.

I will:

Pull down her pants to expose her flat buttocks.
Pull out my phone from my pocket and play the Vagina Song by Pig Vomit.
Get the gas cylinder, connect it to my needle and inject the needle into her right buttock.
Pump of helium gas into her body through the right buttock till she floats to the ceiling.
Watch her expand and float to the ceiling.
Stop pumping the gas, pull out the needle and shut the hole from which the needle came out using a cork.
Ask the 3 footballers hiding under the bed to come out and kick her around as they do with a football in the field.
Watch her bounce off the walls until she deflates and can’t bounce off the walls anymore.
I confine her to the bed with handcuffs that I stole from my neighbour who is a policeman.
I open the bathroom door to let out her boyfriend who I had turned into an obedient bee earlier in the day.
The bee-boyfriend stings her nose and dies.
I take the dead bee-boyfriend, I go home and create it.
She regains consciousness.
I watch her confusion on my laptop thanks to the secret cameras that I installed.
She quits her job in disappears to Mars because of the huge nose (huge noses are illegal on earth, people use them to breathe in more oxygen than they need and then sell it to hospitals at exorbitant prices). I made sure the bee boyfriend’s sting effect would be permanent.
I enjoy a healthy working environment forever.

The pineapple on pizza

I am so sorry because this is neither about pineapples or pizza. I have been horny all day. Kyllan can’t help, he is a fucking robot. Konan is an alien tit with no idea how to satisfy humans even though she has 5 nipples. Those nipples are as useless as the human appendix. I should find her creators and ask them about the 5 nipples.

Anyway, a dance with the devil is all I have been thinking about, let’s go to hell people.

We made it to hell, and guess who we found here. “Well well, Jesus! What are you doing here?” I ask Jesus.

“I wanted to attend Rihanna’s concert. It’s hot as hell because of all the people here, too many dancing bodies generating a lot of heat. The heat in hell has nothing to do with fire. I found this out after I died. I feel sorry for the poor people that actually believe that I resurrected. Those Pharisees were quite clever. I was minding my own business being a minimalist and trying to get people to see the joys of minimalism. That is why I asked people to drop everything and follow me. I wanted to share my lifestyle. It was very freeing. I just wanted to leave a mark like that guy Socrates. I feel sad when I read things like this. People were quite smart during Socrates’ time. Have you got some extra cash for the VIP section? Socrates is definitely there and I want to meet him.

Now I hear people worship me on earth. Maybe I should go leave my mark on other planets too. If all that worship could only translate to money so that I could attend all of Rihanna’s concerts in hell. They are bloody expensive because she is still alive and coming to hell is not cheap. I want to go back to earth and tell all those people to fuck off. …or maybe, instead of that, I could train Elon Musk on how to become the next me. He seems to have gathered quite the cult following.

She’s about to play Bitch better have my money. I love that song. Those priests had better give me all the money they have been collecting on Sundays. They owe their livelihood to me.

How did you come to hell without dying though? You don’t seem rich enough to afford the trip or bribe any angels to overlook your activities. You also brought your robot and your friend that looks like a human tit. I hope the tit won’t vibrate to the point of bursting. She looks fragile.”

I gotta stay here for a while until I have my dance with the devil. I also need a plan to avoid Jesus, he talks too much.

Sigh! It’s just my period!

I absolutely hate Kyllan and Konan right now. I want to poke that little tit Konan and drain her of all her milk. I would puncture her with the sharpest needle let her drain slowly without knowing the source of the leakage. That’s horrible. I’ll just take her to a bouncing castle with rowdy children. Who would not enjoy watching a bouncing tit.

I kind of hate my neighbor. She hasn’t done anything to me. I just woke up hating her. I would love to see a fight between her and Konan. Konan would probably squeeze her to death. Let’s not do that. I am ashamed of this hate feeling that I am feeling towards her.

I want noodles so bad but don’t want to go out shopping. I need a break from the world especially after the weekend I just had. I was even sweet to people that I should not be sweet to because I got too drunk. I also apparently entertained my friend’s dad’s friends who had attended a party to celebrate his professorship. Who knew I could be fun around people 30 years older than me. I am proud of myself for making new friends. I rarely make friends. I am a little handicapped when it comes to the socialising domain.

I also can’t get out of the house because I don’t want my neighbor to know that I am around. She might want to talk about the fact that I kissed her on Friday night, a few moments before she went to have sex with her boyfriend.

I want coffee, a lot of coffee. Why do I feel depressed and want to cry? I currently do not like my family members at all.

My feelings are all over today and my head is not thinking straight. I got to go shit and stop thinking about all the ways Kyllan could kill me.

Sigh!! It’s just my period. I am totally fine. I do not need a therapist.

Saved by a drugie

I am using drugie as a term to mean somebody that uses hard narcotics but is not an addict. Is there an official term for that? Comment if there is one.

High enough (on Absolut Vodka) that I am looking at my keyboard to make sure that I am typing the correct thing. I am a lot slower at typing than usual. I have also been confused by the fact that the font I am using has small caps “L” and caps “i” looking the same. I also just checked to make sure that I did not throw the cigarette filter/butt on my carpet. Yes, I am smoking in the house and spraying lavender air freshener afterwards because I cannot stand the smell of cigarettes when I am hangover (a condition I anticipate to have tomorrow). I am just glad that I can actually type. If this article is shit, I will delete it as soon as I wake up hoping that I will actually remember that I posted something. Hopefully, it wont become one of those posts where I delete everything midway and decide not to post (I do this a lot). I was once told that I exist in the wrong continent because of the things I write about and I think that statement affected me more than I would like to admit. Are there specific things I should aviod writing about because I am African? Currently listening to Gary Barlow’s Back For Good. This will be relevant at some point, I promise. Give me a moment to convert the song to mp3 so I can listen to it on loop using VLC player.

I got to go pee then will be back.

I am now back. Don’t you love the JLS harmonies?

My neighbour gave me something called crystals a few days ago. It was a very little portion mixed in my Tanquery gin. She gave me a quarter the crystals of what she had (she crashed them into powder first). She was very happy after taking it (about 45 minutes after taking it) and our two people party ended because she got horny and went to fuck my other neighbor, which I encouraged her to do because she asked to kiss me more that once. I said no even though I wanted to kiss her back. Not sure why I did that. She is attractive and we happen to like a lot of the same things. Food for thought, I guess.

I was talking to a religious practitioner yesterday. He told me about how most humans are okay with giving themselves to something that takes control of them. This is what I have been doing all week; drinking vodka and being in another world. Since he is a Christian pastor (I think. He is very rational compared to other religious people that I have interacted with), he specifically talked about church. He said to me that people in church give themselves to the pastor and to the worship team. I give myself to alcohol. My neighbor gives herself to crystals (I still do not know the chemical composition but I will let you know as soon as I figure that out). Do we all, every once in a while just want to give control of our lives to something other than ourselves be it religion, drugs, work etc (pick your poison)?

He (the religious practitioner) mentioned that I always excelled at being free which turned me into the villain of the family (he has known me since I was little. I have also always done what I want when I want and I avoid showing weakness as much as I can). I didn’t realize that this is what the world saw in me because I have not felt free or in control this past week. I called all my friends (5 of them) before deciding to do something drastic. I thought that if my life ended, I would be free of the suffering. I just have to stop existing and I would be okay. I ended up at my neighbour’s because I needed someone to talk to and all my friends were unavailable. Thought of ending my life but became a pussy when it got to actually doing it. I think I like living, even when I am at low points, I am happy that I still choose life :).

I am smoking again after three months of taking a break. The head rush feels different. I am not sure where my head is at. Work is perfect, I got into my dream school in London and I am getting along with most of my immediate family. So, what the fuck is wrong?

While talking to my neighbor, she hugged me and thanked me for randomly showing up at her house. She thought talking to me made her feel much better. It may sound stupid but if one person felt better because I was just there to listen, then maybe my existence is somewhat of use.

I am not getting as high as I would like to be but I guess it works for my typing. I also realise, this was my last resort because sometimes, I get a few comments that are actually uplifting. (I just looked at my ceiling and was staring right at my chandelier. If it broke, part of it would pass through my right eye and that would be a complication that I choose not to think about right now. I clearly am not courting death).

Bee Stings and Stars

We were lying on the rooftop of my loft watching the stars. Kyllan had some lovely stories to tell me, mostly about cloning himself, taking over homo sapiens and being their supreme leader. He seems to be very talkative today and when I mentioned it he told me to cut him some slack because being talkative was part of the many personalities his algorithm has been learning (such a human thing to say). What’s with the world-dominating shit though? Oh no! My robot is an INTJ. Sigh.

Damn, the stars are so beautiful, a great prospect for a relationship. Waking up to the stars every day sounds like heaven except that the stars don’t admire me back. Would be such a one-sided relationship but worth it.

While we were enjoying our villainous chat, I got stung by a bee on my right tit which was exposed for no particular reason. It was bloody painful and we watched as the shitfaced bee died after my sting.

Death for the bee is a penalty that hardly fits the crime. It’s just a sting, Jupiter. They don’t have to pay with their deaths. Such a dick move, Jupiter.

“Take the bee Kyllan. We shall figure out why it died after stinging me then we shall fix that and start breeding bees that die of old age and experience plenty of stinging and I shall be the new god of the bees. I shall have all the honey I want and become the sweetest creature in the universe. We shall then pay a visit to the Roman gods and have the bees sting Jupiter for as long as they want as payback.”

At around midnight, we went to bed. Well, just me. Kyllan the robot spent his time rummaging the internet. He’s been intrigued by pandas lately and he is also looking for an elaborate plan to get me to Titan so that I can toss Ewoks into lakes of methane.

I woke up the next morning with my tit the size of a football. It was bloody heavy. That stupid bee. I got to find bees of the same species and have them sting my other tit and both my ass cheeks [for the sake of symmetry, of course, nothing masochistic happening here]. We do not want to anger the gods of symmetry. Time to find three angry bees. Talk later.

It is strangle time

On a random Saturday, while covering for Konan at work because she had to go to her planet for a bit.

How may I be of service.

Strangle me please.

Pardon

I would like to purchase a crop top

Pardon

I would like to purchase a crop top

Pardon

I would like to purchase a crop top

Pardon

I would like to purchase a crop top

Pardon

I FUCKING WANT TO FUCKING BUY A FUCKING CROP TOP

Pardon

I swear on my boobs, if you say pardon again, god help me, I will use my gigantic thumb to penetrate your ear canal and thrust back and forth slowly as I savor the movement until my whole thumb is comfortable inside your ear and then I will add my index finger and then you will really know the right way to use the word pardon and will never be able to stop using it because my fingers will have damaged your ear drums and hearing will be a problem for. So, did you hear me clearly now or would you like some finger action?

Just follow me you psycho, I’ll show you where they are. Just don’t put your giant thumbs in my ear.

Thank you for finally doing your job. I think we can be good friends, yeah, even best friends. I will teach you my secret handshake, or maybe you can strangle me.

So, why do you need a crop top?

……because I want to strangle you with it.

Would you do that? Would you? That would be so cool. I enjoy a strangle every once in a while. I even bought made my own robot and added strangling as a feature. He’s called Kyllan and he stranglers me before bed every night. He has the strongest hands, though not as gigantic as yours. Your hands are so gigantic. I would marry my robot if my state allowed. You know, you can get one free top if you are really going to strangle me. You could strangle me with both the tops since I know you will not wear them. I want you to strangle me thrice, twice with the crop tops and once with your sexy gigantic hands. Ooooo that would be so cool and extremely hot and sexy. I can already feel the tingles down my spine. Go ahead, strangle me oh giant thumbed girl. Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! Strangle me! WERE YOU JUST BLUFFING? SRANGLE ME NOW! I DEMAND THAT YOU STRANGLE ME NOW!

Alright, alright, you naughty lass. SHUT UP AND LET ME STRANGLE YOU.

Make sure you catch that on video Kyllan. We can compare notes when we get home.

Killing “Synergies” and his corporate friends

Kyllan showed up earlier than I hoped. I sent him and Konan to the tailor to have some clothes made for Konan. I can’t stand her being naked around the house anymore.

They walk in to find strangers tied up on the floor. I hoped to have finished with my hostages by the time they came back.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Meet Core Competency, Empower, Move The Needle, Open The Kimono, Bleeding Edge, Core Values, Scalable, Best Practice, Think Outside The Box, Ducks In A Row, Ecosystem, Solution, Leverage, Full Service, Drill Down, It Is What It Is, Robust, Take Offline, Learnings, Reach Out, Hard Stop, Punt, Impact, Give 110%, Take It To The Next Level, Cut And Dry, Window Of Opportunity, Low Hanging Fruit and Peal The Onion. I invited them for lunch, drugged them and tied them up.”

“Why?” Konan asks.

“They keep showing up to my meetings in very colourful clothes, distracting my colleagues and derailing the conversation. I need to save my colleagues from them. Help me carry them to the backyard and tie them to the poles I set up. I will shoot them all directly in the head. They die today. Also, a fat small-headed twat known as Synergies escaped, go find him. I don’t think he got far. He’s the one I want to kill the most.”