BY MIKE JONES
The balance had been going very well. I felt.. harmonious, I felt as though I had found the perfect concoction of chemical coordinates to allow myself to comfortably sit outside of myself, perfectly numb and alone.
And then he came. The Coronarabbit. I remember the first time I met him. I was about 5 tabs deep in a strange land when I saw this ferociously fluffy creature on the horizon. As I floated nearer he dangled a carrot in front of me. I couldn’t resist. I bit into the deceptively packaged vegetable. My teeth sunk into rot and decay and I couldn’t help but swallow this viciously delicious desert of dirt and hurt. It was sweet with a twinge like licorice. And then this ridiculous rabbit began to behave in a ludicrous manner, laughing and letting the lexicon of lunacy loose, as soon as I left him I knew something was terribly wrong.
Fast forward 48 hours and I’m watching the news. Those poor lost sheep on the TV are fearfully fretting about my rotten bunny funny rabbit friend. Don’t worry my flock, us omniscient humans have created counterbalances, and we have come up with creative ways to do battle against the intelligence of actuality dismally destroying and distorting reality. And I think we might actually win! I load up my syringe with another shot of heroin, and nod off again. Night night.
I wake up, 4 hours later, sweating and shaking. I roll over, crack my cocaine-cola, and turn on the speaking box. It appears as though the humans may yet posses complex enough taste pallets to appreciate the depth of taste and experience which lies directly beyond death and destruction and this dystopic direction which we seem to head in. I turn off the boob tube after wistfully watching this young black Male as he realizes Satan’s horns are internal, and integrates them flawlessly.
As I struggle to roll out of bed and shamble over to the shitter I suddenly realize that my toilet paper has been burglarized. I’m outraged. These past weeks it’s been near impossible to get shit tickets without actual toilet tickets. The government just recently started rationing them. I thought the nutrient bricks we started getting last year were bad. But I got used to them quick. I hope I get used to using my dirty clothes as bog paper as quickly. I shudder. As I’m mulling over possible solutions the thought of water pops into my head. That’s what the dirty fascists in the East use. Bidets = evil. Bad thoughts! I give myself 30 lashings to counteract this perversion of my mental faculties.
Well, things are looking up. I got my Rabbit buddy stamp card and my inoculation. Before too long I’ll be able to enjoy a cocaine-cola with my comrades consistently at the corner store. I’ve been noticing an intense pressure in my stomach and chest. The neuro and bio and nano technological engineers say that it’s a completely normal part of the inoculation process. And I trust them. I was taught to trust them. I love America.
