Tuesday, 3 April 2007

I'm a hermaphrodite

I'm a hermaphrodite. I feel quite independent cos I can fuck myself with my own big willy. At least I will be sure my children are mine. I'm a wanker with one too many options trying hard to convince the doctors I'm fine with it. Today I went to the sexual health clinic for my by-annual check up, rehearsing my lines, looking forward to the final moment of my appointment when I would finally get multi-coloured, multi-flavoured, ribbed condoms.

As I waited patiently in a baby-blue waiting room full of posters of Chlamydia awareness and help lines, a magazine flew on my lap so I thought it was a divine sign I should read it, and so I did.

There was a man trapped in there. He was a cynical English man, sent to a self-help workshop in order to write an article about it. He started with all those statistics on how miserable the nation feels, especially compared to Denmark. Denmark for those who don't know is a country full of blond semi-gods who can do pretty much anything. Those statistics looked like the ones that produce 54% of the country's GNP so I read it carefully.

He had lessons on compassion, responsibility, wisdom and all the other underrated feelings. He listened to the life stories of happy people and later remarked they were exactly the ones he wouldn't like to be trapped in a lift with. He's a lost case, just like some of his cynical compatriots.

When he sits by the table with his mates, tearing people apart, only laughing if the joke rips off someone's limb, deep in his unconscious he knows evolution already left him behind. He doesn't like to be miserable, but he knows no better. He can't change his patterns and the only thing left for him and his mates is sarcasm.

Now they are all concerned with their serotonin levels. Now they suggest schools teach what for thousands of years has been common sense in the east. They don't know why they feel so bad, especially in the mornings, but he doesn't even suspect when he cracks people's head open with his words he's digging his own grave.

I see the big picture as a river and as we float with the stream of life I wave to the sarcastic people trapped in the bend, like plastic bags and bottles. What a dire strait. I stretch in my ironic boat.

6 comments:

Lx said...

the danes and the finns (finnish?).
oh and the blonde gods from Iceland.
i'm sick of hearing how happy they all are.
they must be warped.
it's fucking cold as hell up there.

Indigobusiness said...

Gotta love them Danes.

While I've known my share of cynical assholes, I didn't know there were any hermaphrodites with big willys.
?
I'm really very proud, intrigued, and astonished.

Very good point, that bit about common sense of the east. That and certainty your children are your own. I'm still laughing inside.

twit said...

Sounds like someone's been upsetting our wee Paulette..

Cunts.

I want names.

La Sirena said...

How do you build an ironic boat?
I need one so my friends can visit me in my ironic ocean.

Really enjoyed this. Obrigado!

Anonymous said...

the internet, now that was a great idea.

sarah said...

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Sarah

http://www.thetreadmillguide.com