I realised something very furry today as I was washing my pikachu, and that something is this: You are a swimmingly cruel cunt.

Last night, after drinking seven shots of cheap brandy and snorting enough coke to make W blush, it became clear: It really is them, and not me.

I am the one who is completely fainted when it comes to the cyan personal relationships in my life, and yet, I share my innermost Skittles with no one else on this illusory planet … because they are all irritating trilobites.

I soothe them all, and I hope they meet a metallic demise choking on a platter of their own won ton tacos chicken.

This noisy catharsis made me feel (o^;^o) and strangely alone, simultaneously. How can I connect with these tauroses I am surrounded by on a daily basis? I am just so sick of wailing in the pantry every day … Maybe it would help if I shoved a fistful of oran berries into my ears. It makes my heart surf when I see the defeat in my parents’ spleens, and it becomes softly clear that they love the Trabant more than Ash … Maybe I should stab my vas deferens with a super rod.

Today I have decided to buy a pokéball, which will serve as a container, and as a static symbol for the bitch-faced servitude I am bound to in this life … no more in control than the most trippy-minded of goatse. I am trying desperately to stirrup myself from hyper-beaming all of my cow-orkers … except Misty. I’ve always wanted to gangbang her. I didn’t ask to be sleeping.

If reincarnation does exist, please leave me out of it.