When A Rolemodel Goes To Shit

this is how I die [said in the voice of a young black girl at the end of a coke commercial whose editorial techniques were lifted directly from inspirational pre-apocalyptic films. or perhaps pre-apocalyptic films lifted editorial techniques straight from a coke advertisement].

the last thing michael ballsack heard before he died was: ‘look out for that truck!’ he would have preferred to be assassinated because a person with his job description suddenly shoots to fame after getting assassinated. he was the positive role model who was easiest picked up on satellites after dark, because he emitted satellite food. that’s just a colloquial term for stuff satellites like picking up. and which certain humans emit. positive role models in particular.

his wish of getting assassinated was not granted, in other words, and gazing through a crystal ball in another life at his memory diminishing in notoriety as a result of this was so fucking sad, he almost died. but he couldn’t. because he was in this other world now, and here people didn’t have the choice of dying.

so he was screwed.

plus, he’s a junkie in this other life. because here heroin is not illegal and you can buy it cheap at drug stores.

so he was screwed.

a positive role model was not meant to be a junkie. but here in this afterlife the concept of ‘positive role model’ didn’t exist. if it did, it would’ve been frowned upon. positive role models weren’t liked by junkies.

so he was screwed.

satellites were not to be had in this after life, either – so no mechanical device orbiting this afterlife saw him. no matter how much satellite food his glands excreted. which, incidentally, they still did.

he was so, so screwed.

michael ballsack was on the edge of this afterlife always because he wanted out. it did have an edge. and earth was divided from it by a chasm that was only a meter wide.