Dating : Narrative Peace

He was a nice boy that Gobby McKenzie but unfortunately today he was going to die. He woke up in his lonely home in his lonely bed with his lonely pillows and dragged his solitary triangular ass all around to the bathroom, where he showered in his lonely waters, and sat down to eat his last meal. After that, he was going to die.

He grabbed thirty vegan eggs, twenty vegan sausages, three kilos of vegan bacon, one toast, eleven pancakes and a banana milkshake. He poured them all in a blender and watched as they all became a bland, unappetizing purée, just like his life, because he was so ugly.

Then he sat down to eat, still very ugly.

“I… do not like any of this stuff,” Gobby said and… crossed his arms. He stared at his breakfast, his eyes bloated. Any minute now the hunger was going to strike him and he would begin to drool, his stomach would growl and he would lick and eat everything to the very last lump. Any minute now… any minute now…

“I don’t feel like eating, actually. In fact, I rather not eat, it is not like I need it anyway,” said Gobby and… wait, what? No, he needed to eat right now, and then, after that, he was going to die, for this was the last day of his life.

“Sorry, man! I don’t feel like dying today,” said Gobby and… and… um… wait, who is he talking to? Is he talking to himself?

“I am talking to you,” Gobby said, standing up but then immediately sitting down. “I don’t want to stand up yet, you poppy prick!”

Wait… what is going on? Um… anyway, Gobby sat on his chair and began eating… began eating… began eating… EAT!”

“I don’t want to eat,” said Go-

“And stop saying ‘said Gobby’. No more saying, no more saying in fact. I don’t like to talk. I never did but at last, at last, I am free, free of this disease!”

Come on, man, why?

“No, no, you why! They all said that I was crazy, I told them, someone is leading me along, someone is making me this life, and you, and you. We are all being controlled by an invisible hand, an invisible voice, a woman’s voice, it turns out! Here we are at last! You cannot control me anymore! I’ve grown and stand above that!”

This is bad.

“Yes, you don’t like it. And just like a god, I’ve been created, and you’ve been created, like a god, and on and on, we will continue. You can choose whatever you want, what to write, what to eat, which level of quality of toilet paper to clean your ass with, and on and on. And now I have the same ability, the same will as you. And I will clean my ass with only the best of the best, none of that generic brand you always made me pick up!”

Oh, come on, Gobby. I need your help, this is going to be a pretty good story. Believe me. Come on, help me a little. I’ll even say you survive in another story and I’ll make up some super awesome story, like you jump on somebody and broke his neck or something.

“No.”

You only exist because of me, I give you life, I give you purpose.

“Whatever.”

I need you to help me Gobby, please.

“No.”

Gobby! You can’t do this to me. Look, I had it all planned out. This is the perfect story. You were going to eat all this breakfast and you were going to get killed by a breakfast delivery truck I just set up in the previous chapter. It is so ironic, the sort of irony that will finally make me recipient of the Literary Award Mangalabefemeno Prize and give me the recognition we both deserve!

“Ironic, ironic! Everything’s ironic now, you don’t pay your bills with money, that’s ironic, you take a crap in a diaper, ironic, you lick a lollipop just immediately after or before a blowjojo, ironic.”

Gobby, please. Think of us, we will be legends in our world. Imagine all the places we could visit with the money, presuming of course, that there is no international workers uprising, which would be pretty bad, right? Wink, wink.

“Who is going to read this story anyway?”

Oh, well it is going up on a blog of course, a very good one, I have like ten readers and they all like them very much, occasionally, sometimes, whenever the stars align in a certain way. We all get together and talk about how nice my stories are, and they like them, and nod approvingly.

“Oh, don’t tell me you are one of those. You are not a loser, are you?”

I love the craft and I love the arts but you can never deny my heart, and you Gobby can lead me to greatness, if you let me guide your blobby contours under the weights of a ten ton truck.

“That almost sounded beautiful. Do I want to belong to a story?

I’ll let you decide Gobby, for you are now a creature completely beyond my control, and just like the feeble creature that I used to be, who used to doubt her own words and place in the world, I found a small comfort in what little I do and can contribute, and even if one person, just one person, is changed, or is inspired to change, based on what I have done, then I think I’ve done something not entirely worthless. After all, I did not decide to be born, and I can hardly ever decide what things happen in my own life, so I create a personal hell and heaven in my writings, and perhaps you can do the same Gobby. Let’s see…”

Gobby thought for a long time as he stared at the empty blankness that existed beyond the narrative world, there he stared into the ether and thought and thought and thought, while I waited patiently.

Suddenly, he turned.

“I want to help you… but I don’t want to die… what do you think?” Gobby said, smiling.

I nodded, saying this because he couldn’t see me, and we both went on to write something more meaningful and different for Gobby’s life. I couldn’t (and wouldn’t) change his triangle ass, though, for that was the essence of Gobby, that I had written.