The Date...

It's so hard to find someone special. It's even harder to find someone who reciprocates; has similar interests, comparable world views, and thinks you're special too. I've tried putting myself out there, going to bars and buying drinks, trying to spark off a conversation at grocery stores, handing out compliments and contact info. Nothing. Nothing ever came from it. It was like being a homeless hooker in the arctic- Nothing but sub-zeros that went nowhere. 

So, I broke down and started trying the dreaded online dating thing. I swiped away and texted with a few prospects, but none of it ever amounted to any truly viable matches. I kinda gave up for a while there, and tried to prepare myself for long lonely life of solitude. If I’d been religious I'd have probably become a monk, or nun/priest (depending on denominational gender rules and my level of commitment/aptitude). Without any faith to invest myself in, I lost faith in myself instead. I stopped worrying about my appearance altogether. I mean, I let my diet go to hell, munching down junk food on the couch, and absolutely engorging myself on fast food at almost every mealtime. I stopped going to the gym or even thinking about exercising, and just waddled around in sweat pants and old t-shirts all the time. I didn't even worry about brushing my teeth, wearing deodorant, and I hate to admit this, but I didn’t even bother showering half the time. I mean, I was just kinda wallowing around hopelessly and running out the clock to be honest.

Then one day I’d decided to delete the last of my online dating profiles, and on the very last one I’d noticed a new match had recently come through, which surprised me that I hadn’t seen any prompts on my phone until I remembered that I had turned off all my notifications since they only made me feel lonelier and more annoyed. I was actually rather hesitant to even respond at first, but then I figured, what the hell. I decided to message my match that I was in a bit of a slump lately, but was willing to meet up if they were still into it. I’d figured that this would pretty much filter out anyone just looking for a casual hookup, and pretty much expected not to hear anything back. To my surprise, I did get a reply asking to meet-up anyway just to roll the dice, as it could still be fun to just hang-out even if I were some kind of trolling cryptid, and we could easily just ghost each other or run away screaming in terror in a worst-case scenario. What can I say, not everyone shares my sense of humor. So, I was in.

We decided to do the whole metaverse/avatar meeting thing first, since it was new and all the reviews were pretty positive. I mean, what the hell, it seemed like an easy enough way to just kinda test the waters and break the ice. Ya know? Anyway, after a few of these meta-meets, we both decided to just go ahead and meet offline. By then I had actually pulled myself back into pretty decent shape again, and I’d started taking better care of myself. I was pretty confident that things would at least be, I don’t know, interesting or different, I guess. 

So, I won't bore you with the whole awkward hello, or what we had for dinner, where we went after that, and all the kinda who else but you could care kinda stuff. Instead, let’s just suffice to say that we pretty much hit it off right away. By the end of the night, we both knew it was one of those rare my place or yours kinda thing. As it turned out, my place was closer. So that settled it, we left the bar in an oobboorree and got to my place in no time. 

As soon as we got inside, I went straight to the kitchen to get us a couple more drinks, and let my date chill-out in my living room. I yelled from the kitchen to go ahead and pick out some kinda movie or something just for atmosphere and get comfortable. Then I snuck into my bedroom to retrieve a little before grabbing the drinks and joining my date on the couch. 

My date had brought along this nifty little backpack, and I’d suddenly realized that I hadn't even asked about yet. So, when I did ask, my date said something about not wanting to sound too forward but thought it would be best to be prepared in case things went well. That had me rather intrigued, so I hinted that maybe I’d snuck away to get a little something before coming into the living room. We both decided to reveal our little secret stash at the count of three. 

On three, we both pulled out our respective fully automated electro-erotic dongles which as it turns out, were made by the same company, so it was super easy to pair them! After we both agreed to the terms and conditions of our relationship upgrade status and signed online consent forms, we sat back on the couch to watch whole pornographic product show. After a while we even decided to spice things up a little more and synced up our profile avatars on the holographic projector for an even steamier scene. That really got us going, I mean, it was so incredible! There was even this moment where our avatars had their fingers crossed together in all the action, and the resolution on the holographic projector was insane!

I’m not sure how late we stayed up watching this amazing sexual spectacle before we both ended up falling asleep on the couch. What I do know is that our dongles and avatars were still going strong when we both woke up in the morning. Unfortunately, we both had to go to work, so we had to separate our gear in order to recharge them separately and all. I don’t want to sound overconfident or anything, but I'm pretty sure this isn’t going to end up being just a one off kinda thing. I mean, I hate to jinx it, but I've got a really crazy feeling that this could actually be the one. Who knows, we might even have to experiment a bit more and try sharing a virtual avatar baby somewhere down the road, and I don’t meant to get ahead of myself, but if that goes well, one day we could even find ourselves merging our social media accounts. So, if you’re out there feeling lonely like I was, who knows what could happen one day. Just hang in there. Anyway, fingers crossed on this one!

The Pronoun Reassignment Specialist...

 

PLEASE HEED THIS WARNING. If you are sensitive to certain kinds of speech, thought experiments, or other ideations which could be considered offensive, controversial, or otherwise unsettling please consider refraining from reading beyond this point. Sooner or later your kind of eyes will encounter certain information which you may not want to know, deem triggering, or find psychologically/spiritually traumatizing. Some of the adverse effects associated with these kinds of hazardous bits of information may include existential anxiety, moral terror, dreadful dreams, and a fervid yet futile desire to completely purge all knowledge and meta-knowledge obtained as a result of reading this book. Of course, the author assumes no legal or other liability in conjunction with any negative experiences, effects, or aftermath; and any further act of reading this text shall be done at the reader’s own risk. Furthermore, any attempt to provide negative reviews or reactions to this book, incite actions against its author, or in any way refute the ideas, intentions, and illuminations of these pages will be done at your own risk of other negative outcomes which the author also hereby waves any culpability. For all intents and purposes, you are entirely on your own, and no one can spare you from the consequences of your own actions as a result of reading and reacting to this book or anything else for that matter...

FADE IN TO OPENING SCENE...

(See door marked Pronoun Therapy and Consulting. Show face of engineer irritated at having to wait in lobby with gun pointed at him by robot enforcement drone. Door opens. A peacock with some humanoid features exits. Then Therapist enters frame of doorway and reads number of Engineer which matches tattoo on his forehead. Engineer gets up and walks into the room with gun remaining on his back, drone pushes him inside door seals shut automatically. Cut to interior where Therapist and Engineer stand opposite each other.)

 

T: Why don’t you make yourself comfortable? You can undress to your level of comfort, choose to be seated, lay down, or whatever makes you feel at ease.

 (Engineer sits down with arms crossed, robot barrels from corners trace his move with cameras trained on him as well.)

 T: As you may already know, I’m a pronoun reassignment specialist. We don’t need names in here, but my pronouns are Pseudoscientif-a-rific and Selfi-Smart, but enough about me. Let’s talk about you. What do you feel right now? Be honest.

 E: I feel like a biological man with a simple penis to predefine my pronouns and a degree in engineering, who is surrounded by a bunch of lunatics like you, who insist that I placate their delusions and automatically intuit what sorcery of nonsense syllables they prefer to be addressed by as if I can just conjure up some spell of shared delusions, and never offend the shattered dreams they insist on using to define themselves.

T: Ok I see. So, you don’t feel as if you belong in the social body you’ve been assigned?

E: No. I wasn’t assigned anything. I was just trying to apply for a job here, since I recently graduated with an engineering degree and all the insurmountable debt that comes with it, and thought I’d try this place since it is the only company the government allows to hire engineers. What doesn’t fit, in my opinion, is this clown-shit ideology being force-fucked into the same space where brains are supposed to be but end up being shoved out the side of the skull to make room for this horseshit.

 (Cut to application with entry space for PREFERRED PRONOUNS which has been left blank)

T: You seem agitated. Don’t you think this negative energy you seem to have toward those who identify differently could be the result of your own unresolved pronoun issues which you project outwardly?

E: No. I have a brain, a penis, a pair of perfectly functional testicles and eyes, the latter of which can clearly see what bullshit and delusions look like. Adopting some psychotic set of pronouns to differentiate myself in conversation isn’t going to do anything to improve personal relations, speed conversation along, or anything else but support the spread of these damned delusions.

T: AH, I see then. So, you don’t want to accept yourself or others on a deeper level and prefer to present yourself as the archaic curmudgeon type. That’s perfectly acceptable. Let me just have you mark yourself down as a THEY/THOSE, and we can be done here.

(Cameras zoom in and guns slide closer.)

E: No. I’m one fucking person and not a conglomerate group of synchronized assholes or some dip-shit with multiple personality delusions.

T: I see. First of all, its called an associative identity awareness condition, and not MPD. Secondly, there’s no reason to be upset. I can assure you that before you leave here today I will resolve your pronoun issues. I take my job very seriously and have many accreditations. (Show degrees on wall with crayon lettering and macaroni painting construction) Perhaps we should put you down as a provisional HE-SHE/HER-HE so you can explore your pronouns more openly.

E: Again, I’m one fucking person with a single fucking penis, and relabeling doesn’t change what I am- it only perpetuates this bat-shit crazy shit-show that’s destroying society.

T: I think you should consider refraining from using insensitive conspiracist slurs to blame societies problems on the latest outbreak of batCoronaVirus91, and tone down your toxic masculine penis pride. That being said, it seems to me that if these pronouns don’t matter, then perhaps I can put you down as a TODDLER-DIDDLER/RAPE-FEIND.

 E: I’m not one of those.

T: But it doesn’t matter, Right?

E: You really are an idiot. I don’t diddle toddlers or rape, so I don’t want to be referred to as someone who does. Those things are deplorable. I’m a decent, normal human male.

(Therapist cringes psychotically at the word normal and screams)

T: Ok, I think I’ve heard just about enough of your hate speech! The N word is the only word we don’t allow in this room! Maybe I should just register you as a HE/HIM then.  What do you think about that?

(Guns move to point blank range. Red record light on camera glows bright and swells)

E: I know what you’re trying to do. I’m not playing this game.

T: And what game do you think this is?

E: You’re trying to justify a way to have me sent away to one of those camps where they turn you into something… ELSE.

T: I don’t know what you’re talking about. Those camps are just conspiracy theories. I mean, there aren’t even any pronouns to refer to them. How can they exist without having properly assigned pronouns?

(Engineer’s face turns pale, eyes take notice of guns, cameras, and Therapist’s facial ques)

E: Yeah, makes total sense. I don’t know what I was thinking. Hey I have an idea, since I clearly have a lot of personal issues to work-out, hows about you put me down provisionally as a generic YOU/YOUS?

(Therapist grins and walks over to engineer menacingly. An assistant bot is summoned as Therapist snaps fingers, and places a cart with several torture tools laid out ready on top of it)

T: That might work out alright. For now though, I’m going to need you to bend over this way and scream out 500 Hail Satan’s facing the flag while I penetrate you to initiate your new pronoun adjustment therapy.

E: On second thought, maybe I’ll just have one of those cyanide pills. That’s still an option, right?

(Therapist smiles and disrobes before perusing its fingers over the set of tools and grabbing a particularly menacing one which buzzes.)

T: I’m afraid that option has been discontinued. Too many of our most productive workers were choosing that option, and cyanide supple couldn’t meet the demand. Plus the overall productivity levels were suffering as well. Now, are you ready for your pronoun reassignment treatment?

(Tool buzzes loudly, Engineer looks terrified and frozen in horrific disbelief, Therapist tuns Engineer over to position bent over bench/couch and facing flag)

E: I thought…

T: No, you didn’t. Alright you sissy De-Gender-ate. It’s time to adjust your pronouns.

E: What am I going to end up as?

(Tool buzzes as Therapist secures Engineer in place with restraints)

T: Your pronouns are going to be EMPLOYEE/OBIDI-ANT

(Engineer’s tears stream down face, then a look of acceptance settles over him OBIDI-ANT)

E: I suppose I’ll learn to live with that.

(Saw sounds and flesh cutting ensues with screams of pain and maniacal laughter. Therapist holds up mutilated nondescript genitals and throws them at a trash can which is overflowing with biological waste, part of the thrown bits bounces off of the pile onto the floor.)

T: Well, not everyone can fit in here.

Agathokakological...

How much hell

Is worth being right

Such a wicked spell to

Sanctify your fight

With venom in your voice

Hellfire and brimstone

You clench your fists

Grandstanding on mass graves

Ranting and raving of all this saves

Obstinate to the end of days

Whatever hell you’ll have to raise

Leave nothing spared for gawdly praise

With venom in your voice

Hellfire and brimstone

You raise your fists

Shame the souls of all you know

Never keep your voice down low

All you hear in your own echoes

Rage ruthlessly and come to blows

Lose all love to thumb your nose

With venom in your voice

Hellfire and brimstone

You stain your fists

Righteousness is what you claim

Obeying rules however insane

As life is lost to play this game

Rejoice in all your virtue’s pain

With venom in your voice

Hellfire and brimstone

You rinse your fists

Come to terms when it’s too late

Realize righteousness was only hate

You’ll blame it all on heaven or fate

With venom in your voice

Heart failure and then some

You stare at your fists