Unikum november 2020

different coloring was actually mold. Hopefully for
Clark, his doctor’s office would have a “get every 80th
food poisoning treatment for free” campaign.
He found some old cardboard and what he thought
was a pencil, but in actuality was dried licorice gum
with a few resembling characteristics of a pencil, and
scribbled down a to-do list:
1. Haier someone to fix that dam gas lik.
2. Get som proper breakfast.
3. Buy some cigaretts.
He looked proudly at his horribly misspelled list, coupled
with a handwriting even a doctor would have
trouble reading. The old cereal had not quenched his
hunger, and as his oversized tummy was rumbling,
he decided that food was the top priority right now.
He wobbled out the front door of his run-down
apartment, the effect of old cereal wreaking
havoc on his intestines. Unluckily for the
other occupants in the apartment building,
this meant that the oven wasn’t
the only thing leaking gas, Clark did
as well while taking his sweet time
down the many flights of stairs.
Old Miss Coot passed by him and
almost passed out in the trail
of stench he left behind. After
taking approximately thirty
minutes getting down from the
third floor to the first, he finally
got outside, and the outside
world was now the victim of his
gassy powers, unleashing in every
direction the wind blew. According
to a New York Times article released
two days later, about two hundred
birds were found dead outside Central
Park around the same time. Coincidence, or a
massive genocide launched by the gassy terrors of
Clark’s intestines? The world would never know.
He drove his truck into town, almost running over:
four birds, one squirrel, a chihuahua and its owner,
two school children and a gay couple he deliberately
tried swiping because those “fags” dared to hold
hands. There was unfortunately a victim; a Barbie in
a pink sportscar a little girl had played with on the
sidewalk. This all happened in the span of a five-minute
car ride. Darwin must have been rolling in his
grave if he knew that several million years of evolution
would produce the absolute imbecile that was
Clark, and he somehow hadn’t been hit by natural
selection…yet.
42
Like a month to a light, as soon as he saw the golden
arches of the McDonald’s logo, he gassed through a
red light, believing that if he did not get something to
eat within the next three minutes he would combust.
He did a crooked parking, taking up two spaces instead
of one. When a family of five tried arguing with
him, he flipped them all off and went on.
“I’m a man on a mission, to fix that damn gas leak,
but a hero can’t do his duty on an empty stomach!”
he screamed after them.
He entered the McDonald’s. There was a line.
“Of course there’s a line,” he sulked like an insufferable
brat.
“I’m more important than any of the other dipshits
here,” he thought to himself.
He wasn’t. Even the drug addict standing closest to
the cashier, who skinned rats and tried selling their
sown-together fur as masturbation tools was more
valuable to society than Clark was. He was at least an
entrepreneur, in contrast to Clark, who lived off
his hard-working parents’ money and the mercy
of the state. And yet, he still didn’t manage
the money properly, as if he did, he would
have already fixed that damn gas leak.
“But DAMN, does this girl have a nice
ass,” his mind wandered.
It was a nice butt, but for the successful
businesswoman who was just going
to enjoy a girls-day-out with her friend
Megan, she probably did not appreciate
Clark’s ogling. He couldn’t keep himself
for salivating even, and the woman noticed
this.
“What the Hell is wrong with you!?” she
rightfully yelled.
Clark never could handle confrontations, and he
just whimpered a bit, like a child being yelled at but
not fully comprehending why.
“Are you deaf!?” she continued.
“Karen, it’s not worth it, I told you Wendy’s was better
anyways. Let’s ditch this dump,” her friend argued,
and they both exited but not before sending Clark
vicious looks.
“Fucking uptight bitches. If they didn’t want me to
look why do they wear such tight pants? They’re
practically begging for it,” Clark deluded himself.
The line went excruciatingly slow, and Clark considered
whether a tantrum or a call for the manager
would make it go faster. He landed on something way
more impolite, every time someone even stepped
slightly out of the line, he shoved them aside.
“You snooze you lose,” he harked mockingly.
Illustrasjoner: Sudowoodo & meen_na
// Stock.Adobe.com