The bugs are still on me.
It’s got to be a thing right? Scratching, looking down and finding absolutely NOTHING on your arm. It’s probably a tick. I’ve got enough of them so this is probably number twenty seven. But even if it is, TECHNICALLY there ARE bugs crawling on us right now. I heard that somewhere. In science class or anatomy or biology, or maybe I saw it on T.V. Or maybe Batman told me. I can’t remember. But it doesn’t change the fact that they’re there… crawling on us—AHH! Those little miniscule bastards are gorging themselves like obese people at a free buffet. I never wanted to be a Golden Corral. And here I am, giving myself up for the price of nothing while my body is slowly devoured.
I feel used.
Here’s a thought:
If the world was one giant person… that would make us the bugs. No, I’m not on anything, just my third or fifth glass of wine. But it makes sense, right? We could be the Earth’s little bastards, soaking up the land and sea for our selfish feasting needs. Total Men in Black locker reference, when Earth was just part of a galaxy in a marble. It could happen. It could be happening right now. It explains tidal waves and earthquakes and other unknown issues. Unless you want to be a geology jerk about it and claim it has to do with plate tectonic shifting or whatever it is I didn’t pay attention to in class. But you probably don’t think that because I doubt a bunch of geology jerks even read this blog. And if you’re one of the others that think the mermaids are somehow responsible for all the earth’s natural disasters, then I TOTALLY agree with you. Because mermaids exist. Not leprechauns, not Big Foot, not even Santa Clause (spoiler alert!) but mermaids ARE real. Like a hundred percent singing in the ocean, swimming around Atlantis, mother fucking real.
I don’t understand why people don’t believe this. Isn’t the earth covered by seventy five percent water? And haven’t we only explored like, a handful of it? I may not be great at math here, but doesn’t that leave… several more handfuls? And what’s there? Shit we haven’t discovered yet, that’s what. Or shit we have discovered, made a Disney movie about and then mocked those who actually believe it. That’s right—I’m talking to you geology jerks. And logical people.
It’s not going to be the robots that take over. It’s going to be the army of merpeople sweeping along the shores, stabbing us with their tritons to feed their hoards of hungry young because according to math again, there’s three quarters more of them then there are of us. It’s going to suck big time when we become the sushi of the planet. Raw human.Yum.
It’s not like I’m waiting for this war to happen. You should never wait for inevitability. That’s just dumb. Things are going to happen whether you want them to or not. No point wasting your life in the mean time. I’m just saying it’s the most obvious apocalypse. Now, I’m a Walking Dead girl myself, but the Zombies are not our final threat. It’s too obvious. It’s too arrogant. It might be aliens, but why are they taking their time in attacking? If they were going to do it, wouldn’t they have done it by now? Unless they’re those stupid aliens from Signs where they’re taken down by a glass of water… why haven’t they come yet? And if they have (which is totally a possibility) then why haven’t they attacked? I don’t buy the whole hostile alien take over thing. Of course now that I said that, I just jinxed the entire human race. My bad.
I’m telling you, mermaids are it. They’re the threat no one’s looking at. Smart human-fish hybrids. I’m calling it now. Can I make a bet with someone? Or have my great-great granddaughter cash in on this when her whole life goes to underwater shit? Yeah, I really don’t want to be human sushi. I basically don’t want to feed another living thing with my body. Bugs… merpeople…sorry cannibals, you’re out too. But then my thoughts go back to Mufasa’s circle of life lesson about our bodies becoming the grass and the antelope eating the grass and the whole recycling procedure. I have no problem donating my body for food post life—I just have a problem with it when I’m alive.
So that also leaves out vampires.
Especially vampires. Even the hot ones that make me want to be immortal which I would NEVER want to do because I’ve already chosen my death age and once I make a goal it’s hard to deter from it. 77. That’s my death age—if I’m able to decide. If not, then anytime is fine I guess but as long as there’s a cap, I think I’m good. Immortality doesn’t suit me. It’s actually quite terrifying. So every time someone says in that really annoying voice, “you know it’s not good/healthy/smart that you’re…” I just smile, nod and say YEP! Don’t plan on living forever. No one seems to understand this. I DON’T WANT TO BE IMMORTAL. So BACK OFF vamps. I’m not even here for a little appetizer-action. Except maybe Eric from True Blood… he might possess the only set of fangs I’d let near me for a little suckage. And it’s more for the lust involved, not the snacking. Except, why would he want to snack on me? I’ve got an average neck that the bugs have apparently been feasting on and I’m pretty sure I might start giggling if Eric got too close. Total turn off, I know. So picking me would be like choosing trail mix over a bag of Oreos. And who chooses trail mix? NOT ERIC.
Damn. Now I’m kind of depressed.
But still being fed upon.
Oh…life. You make no sense.