Garbage candy and other unpopular opinions


After voiding my insides for the umpteenth time into my porcelain pal in the next room over I lay in the fetal position writing what feels like my final thoughts as I writhe in discomfort for the third day straight.

Noone has ever been in this much pain in the history of human experience. Inside my head my eyes feel as hot coals searing like my face has been drilled by very well aimed grape sized meteors. My body aches as if I’d just finished running my tenth marathon in a week. Every minute adjustment makes the glass shards in my stomach jostle and send another tsunami of nausea coursing through my body.

My mental state is deteriorating at the same clip as my physical being. Like a 13-year-old in the throws of hormonal purgatory my moment-to-moment emotional state is fragile to say the least. I’m furious at the world and all of its “healthy” people, able to eat delicious sweet food and enjoy outdoor activities in the early spring as I lay in a dark room suffering. Moments later I am inconsolably sad, on the verge of tears, and choking back sobs wondering why the hateful universe has chosen me to bear the brunt of this debilitating sickness.

Despite the war raging within my body it seems I am still capable of forming coherent thoughts, so in the interest of the betterment of mankind, I will share my parting thoughts with the world before succumbing to the darkness.

Necco Wafers are a garbage candy and everybody knows it. They’re just the chalk leftover at the bottom of the barrel after pharmaceutical companies have finished making antacids for the day. Those nasty little disks of danger were first created in 1847, and I don’t think they’ve made a new batch since. The only real pleasure that someone could get from the chalky chunks is the spiteful chuckle that comes from the adults giving them out at Halloween. The same goes for anything butterscotch flavored and those nasty red lozenges that come in the strawberry shaped wrapper.

Brushing my teeth is the most tedious and frustrating part of personal hygiene and I hate it! If I survive this weekend I will be dedicating my life to the advancement of tooth decay. Get rid of all the teeth I say and replace them with high resiliency silicon nubs. Instead of brushing your teeth like a caveman, simply plop them in the dishwasher overnight and voila, clean teeth.

Guns are lame and we should all go back to the pinnacle of warfare, and that is fighting with swords. In almost every situation an awesome sword is better than a puny handcannon. Imagine this, you need to cut across town and to do so you’ll have to go through a dark alleyway at night. However, there is a seedy gentleman who stops you half way through. Would you rather at this point have a pistol that’s concealed with clothing, a holster and slowed down by a safety, or a gigantic claymore that strikes fear into the hearts of man and beast alike! As you fumble with your “quick release” holster, I’ll be fileting a bad guy for breakfast!

Alas, I feel that is all I have time for. I can hear the grim reaper calling my name and I’m fading fast. But wait, what’s this? Is that chicken noodle soup I smell? I can feel my strength returning already, on second thought, maybe I’ll stick around a little longer.


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