Unikum november 2020

He finally snuck his way all up to the entrepreneur
drug addict who had yet to decide on which burger
he desired. Mostly because instead of seeing a menu,
he saw flying dragons and exploding heads. The cashier
was equally absentminded, but not by drugs but
by sleep deprivation. The entrepreneur finally decided
on a milkshake, whether that was his intention
or not, only he knows, but nevertheless, Clark finally
had the opportunity to order a super-sized meal with
everything included. He calculated that he would still
have enough money left to fix that damn gas leak.
Eating would be the wrong word to describe what
Clark did with the food. Devouring might be more
appropriate or rather pigging-out, as he did faintly
look like a pig fattening himself up for Christmas.
Clark would probably be prettier with an apple in
his mouth too, so he wouldn’t be spewing so much
bullshit. He looked at the TV, hoping something fun
might be on like a sitcom to fry the very last of his
brain cells with dry humor. Unfortunately, they only
showed the news, which the very concept of was an
abomination to Clark. He never watched news, he hated
them.
“All this bullshit. Little, dumb kids telling me not to
eat meat, politicians using fake news to manipulate
the masses and that dumb Black Lives Matter thingy.
All lives mattered, why didn’t those dumb apes
understand that!?” he ironically thought, despite his
being clearly of less value than others.
He believed himself to be more “sophisticated” than
the masses. He understood the world in a way that
no one else did, saw it for the lies, or so he believed,
much like a goldfish in a fishbowl which thinks it
knows more of the ocean than those who swim in
it. If only people like him were in charge, oh, how a
paradise it would be, he so idiotically believed. Men
would restore the natural balance to the world again.
He was planning on finding a firm which could take
care of that damn gas leak, but he felt the urge for nicotine
in his body. So he made the executive decision,
that cigarettes were more important than that damn
gas leak.
He found a supermarket in the middle of town, which
not only had cigarettes but also other sweets which
served as dessert to Clark’s already bloated belly. The
term “like stealing candy from a baby” is an obscene
one, as no tangible human being would ever be crude
enough to even think about doing such a heinous act.
Yet, this is exactly what Clark did, as there was only
a single lollipop left of a certain flavor, and before
the mother could pick it out for her hopeful toddler,
Clark snatched it right up, laughing as if he had just
conquered a worthy foe. However, if any other battle
form was chosen, the odds were in favor of the baby,
even if it was a fistfight.
“I’m looking forward to election day, can’t wait to get
that Cheeto out of the White House,” the cashier tried
making conversation.
Clark was practically appalled by this; he did not
want to be reminded of the absurdity he thought the
election was. Clark loved criticizing society but being
a participant in it was not on his to-do list. Much like
a friend “borrowing” one’s Netflix account, they’re
nothing more than parasites who suck the benefits
from others.
He became increasingly aggravated
by this, and even
smoking a cigarette before
entering his car didn’t calm
him. He raced home, still aggravated,
with the intention
of letting the world know of
his dumb rage, through a platform
which gave people the
illusion they were more relevant
than they actually were:
Facebook.
He bobbled up the stairs, not
even his anger being able to
accelerate this process, it still
took him thirty minutes, and he even met Miss Coot
on the way, who despite having survived horrible circumstances
under the Cold War, had a PTSD attack
triggered by Clark’s deathly gas.
Clark logged into his highly secure account with the
immaculate password: “Clark1234”. It might not
come as a shock, that Clark had also been the victim
of many internet scams, but in his defense, he was
technically married to three separate Nigerian princesses,
they were all just awaiting their green cards.
He wrote a bunch of posts, ending each sentence
with three dots, and exclamation points in all the
wrong places. But he was visibly proud of his “sermon”
hoping that he might inspire the “sheep” to see
the world for what it truly was.
But he had the sense he had forgotten
something. What was it now? He
lit another cigarette, hoping that when
he ignited the dried tobacco that it might
jog his memory. And to everyone’s surprise
it did, however, not in the way he expected.
Just as he was about to put out the
flame from the lighter, he was reminded
what it was he was supposed to do today.
As his entire head blew up into a bloody pulp, he finally
remembered:
He needed to fix that damn gas leak.
Illustrasjon: 4zevar
// Stock.Adobe.com
NOVEMBER 2020 UNIKUM NR 9 43