Sunday June 28, 2020

This universe is trash. It’s just pure trash. There isn’t anything I find redeeming anymore. There is no low, the bar is set at the bottom and they are just digging deeper to find something that is shocking.

I try not to think about Kaylin often. It isn’t something that makes me happy anymore. It’s been weeks since I asked my parents to go over to my apartment, well Kaylin’s apartment, to collect my things and put them in storage. I haven’t heard from them yet. The signal has not gotten any better to relay data. The messages from home are likely harder to get through, at least that is what is keeping my hope alive.

Opening up my Chromebook I find that the data packs of my observation logs, emails, and anything else that was to be relayed have gone through, but there is nothing new from home for me. I’m not exactly sure what I am expecting. There is almost no one back home that is willing to have a two way conversation that takes weeks to go back and forth. I might as well be using the post.

I trudge on. There is no alternative. I trudge. I keep moving forward and I trudge.

I am lying in bed watching the strangest mirror mirror movie I have seen in this universe yet. Ralph Macchio was replaced by Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future. I love the movie and honestly this version isn’t that bad, but it just isn’t the same. The timing is all off. Macchio and Lloyd had issues on the set too and you can feel that in the movie. Here? It feels like these two got along and there isn’t any tension.

I’m still wearing the same boxers as I put on three days ago. I should shower, but what’s the point? I rarely leave. I’m happy getting everything delivered right now. The anti-mask crowd are bitching about not working and demanding everything open back up. President, looking for something shiney to comment on, has been calling Covid-19 the “Beaner-Fever” like the tactless moron he is. How have they not removed this clown yet?

The loudmouth on Info-Wars is insisting the entire thing is a hoax and there is no reason to lockdown at all. Then there is a trade war with Japan, and there is price gouging left and right.

I am so lonely. Angelica is a great comfort and a reminder of home, but I haven’t touched another person in months.

I’m touch starved.

I check my phone for any new messages and only see that my paycheck has been deposited and my Amazon order is only ten stops away.

The delivery guy is usually pretty good, but we have porch pirates in the building now. It was so nice when the place was empty for a week. Only me and the cat. No one was stealing my packages, no one was yelling at the other neighbors, or yelling at me.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The two idiots over in 2 are walking their dog past my door and it’s barking its head off. There is another door to the parking lot right next to their door but every freaking day these halfwits walk this dumbass dog right by my door.

I stomp over to the door, grab up my dog whistle and blow as hard as I can.

The bitch kicks my door and screams, “Enough with the dog whistle, it’s not even my dog!”

“Sure as hell sounds like your goddamn dog!” I shout back.

She kicks my door.

“I hate this world,” I mumble to myself while Angelica rubs herself against my leg.

I walk back into my room, throw myself on the bed, and go back to watching the movie. I want nothing more to do with these people. These neanderthal offshoots of humanity, somehow forgotten by time to allow them to roll in the mud in an eternal struggle to destroy themselves.

I hate it here.

The woman with the dog is just outside my window now, encouraging her dog to crap on the moss there.

Marty is fading from reality on stage as he is playing his guitar in a choppy off key rhythm waiting for George to take back the girl from the weirdo dancing like a fool.

The phone in the hall starts ringing. There is a guest at the door. I drag myself from the bed, not bothering to pause this generic knockoff of my favorite childhood film and answer.

“What?”

“Can you let me in? I forgot my key,” The woman from 2 with the dog asked.

“Who is this?” I ask to clarify.

“I live in apartment 2, who is this?” She asks.

“You didn’t even bother to check who you called? You just assumed that someone would let you in?”

I hear the line go dead.

Already standing I head to the kitchen for a bowl of ice cream before I head back into my cave.

As I dish out the first scoop I hear someone hit my door hard and then scream, “Fuck you asshole!”

“Such a charming lady. I really should do something for her,” I mumble to myself and I cut up an overripe banana and toss the pieces into the bowl for health.

As I walk into the room I hear the Doc declare “Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”

I plop myself back down on the bed and go back to the menu to play the next in the series. I hope that the others are better than the first. I don’t have a lot of faith in that, but you never know.

I hesitate to turn on the second movie. There must be something else to watch. I scroll through the various streaming networks that I have access to, turning on YouTube to watch the vulgar displays of power and incompetence that are these United States. The president is talking about shining fucking lights into the body and using bleach. There is a toothless hillbilly that is about to chug bleach because this fool is in charge.

I turn on Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) again. “Thank God they didn’t cast Leto for anything,” I tell Angelica, laying beside me on the bed. She gives me a strange look. “I don’t care if you thought he was good in Fight Club, the man is a terrible Joker!”