The Unlimited Knowledge of Mister Eggplant, Interpreted by Floaties Shark.

[anamesis]

the title obviously has nothing to do with anything!


ONWARDS!

Untitled Work

0/1

My head hurt.

Well of course it did, that was stating the obvious now wasn’t it? The low electrical hum faded into the background as I tried to piece my head together again, it felt like trying to pick up lumps of wet toilet paper and making them dry again.

Not an impossible task, but surely an overly difficult one.

Maybe if I had a plunger this might be easier? The idle musing of my broken mind are a little confounding sometimes, makes me wonder where thoughts come from? Definitely not from my heart, I think that has been broken for years, figuratively I suppose. I don’t think a human being can function without a heart. And I am human, yes, that was decided already wasn’t it?

I flipped on the television, no, that’s not entirely truthful. I stepped on one of the several remotes that had been strewn across the floor and it turned on. The room flashed different colors as the illumination reached its peak, I searched the floor but I still couldn’t find the functioning one.

“Fuck” I swore out loud, on my hands and knees squinting in the semi-darkness, looking for that one remote that actually still works. I could probably go buy another remote, surely that was true, but I already had a number in the thirties of semi-functional universal remotes now. Truly an inconvenient tool, if only it functioned like it was advertised.

For that matter, where did I put my phone? I feel my leg vibrate, but it was just a muscle spasm, I got excited at the thought that someone might be trying to contact me, but now I am just reminded that I have no friends.

And no phone, where the fuck did I put my phone?

Calm down, it doesn’t matter, nobody calls you anyways dumbass. I concede to my own dark thoughts, the insight they bring is rather undeniable. Even if I don’t entirely agree with my own disregard for social contact, it still bothers me in another regard, where the fuck is my phone?

But I push that thought out of my mind; I can’t even remember when I lost it so there is no point in searching for it. My stomach rumbles but I ignore the thought that lingers in the back of my mind and confuse my addled mind further with fluids. I haven’t had anything tangible to eat for days, haven’t bothered to shower in weeks, and my beard has grown in uneven again.

I shuffle on the floor to the dingy cell that was my bathroom. I have heard people call it the white throne, laughable; I don’t think this thing was ever white to begin with. I won’t even bother to turn on the light; even if I miss it can’t get any dirtier in here.

I am disgusted at myself for not being disgusted at the state of my living space. I spray air freshener into the dark room and shut the door tight, I could hide a body in there at this point and no one would notice for weeks! Makes me wonder, is that body then going to be mine?
At this rate it seems logical that I am going to die in this room. It bothers me that it doesn’t bother me that I have reached that conclusion already and don’t really care.

“Are you tired of living life?” the TV asked me.

It was just another advert to lose weight in some scheme designed to take a roundabout route of doing it. I tune the sound out, being unable to find the remote that turned it on, I am thusly unable to turn the damnable thing off. But the sound doesn’t bother me anymore, to say then that I have gotten used to this situation is true, and also rather disappointing.

But more than one screen lights this room, being the key form of illumination since all the bulbs died years ago, was obviously the personal computer screen. The mere fact that none of the bulbs have been replaced is in itself a testament to my hermitage.

The functionality of the machine was questionable at best, after years of continued use it would be only fair to say it had lived twice its lifespan a dozen times now. Regardless of the limits of parts and technology, it was still somehow in working condition, which I can only attribute to pure luck and blind love. I also dismantled my microwave a few months ago for spare parts, but that is just an argument against my mental state if I am being honest.

It would not be a lie to say I loved my computer, not in a weird way obviously, that would be…problematic. I am not even sure that would even work, and why would anybody even want to put that there?

Still there was a bond there beyond just user and terminal that is both tangible and unexplainable. Not just my portal to the outside world, but my companion on every journey. A loved party member in an adventure, probably the cleric or the bard, definitely a support class I would think.

So that is why I am crying like a lost child, as acrid green smoke billowed out of the main console. I would try to hold myself back if I wasn’t already wracked with grief at the thought of continuing on without my only friend.

That’s sad in itself isn’t it?

My only friend was a barely functioning computer. I have six dollars to my name at the moment, my power will go out in a few days, I haven’t had anything to eat in days, and I am grieving for my computer.

I want to cry but I am already crying, so I can’t double the process, even though in the back of my mind I understand that becoming dehydrated at this point will probably be the final nail in my coffin.

I inhale a billow of the green smoke and feel my throat constrict as the burning fills my mouth with the only foreign substance it had received in days. I feel my stomach roll and my eyes in turn swivel in their sockets as I heave what little was contents I had left in me.

This is bad, I was already on the edge of malnutrition before, and I knew it was entirely unfeasible to continue this sort of existence but I wanted to avoid leaving if at all possible. But, I think I am long past my limit now. Beaten, broken, all alone, I guess I am going to die like this right?

The sound of breaking glass, my mind is not really working right now but I think I smell coconut. I don’t even have the wits to comprehend what is going on, something just smashed in a window, and the cool night air spilling into this room feels nice.

An idle thought; there is a crumpled form lying on the ground in a bed of my unwashed clothing and discarded trash, with broken glass littering the floor, I wonder who this person is?

I don’t really mind right now, this thieving cat won’t find treasure here, just a half dead miserable corpse. I can see the headlines now, would-be thief stumbles upon dead shut-un jobless loser.

No, that is thinking to highly of myself, I doubt I will even get more than a few lines in the local paper.

My head really hurt.

Which was strange; since I was pretty sure I was dead. Though at the moment it would seem there was evidence to the contrary, such that I am still thinking about whether or not I am actually dead I can only assume I am not.

So I am alive.

That settled I have a few questions for myself, why can’t I open my eyes? Who was that girl? Why do I smell burnt toast? Did I wash my hands after I used the toilet? No answers, good job brain, way to drop the ball.

No, wait, that doesn’t make any sense either. I can’t really answer myself with information that I don’t actually know; why that is absolutely absurd! Ah, now I feel sort of disappointed that I knew that I didn’t know. This is a rather sordid affair to be stuck in.

My thoughts and I are not fit companions for each other, truly a strange occurrence that both things are happening in concurrence, by which I mean both thoughts and reflection of those thoughts.

I think I am thinking stupid thoughts, therefore I am thinking stupid thoughts.

Lovely, if I don’t open my eyes soon I am quite sure I will go mad, which I don’t think either of us would enjoy.

Wait, who is the second one?

Right, mad, yes I think so.

I opened my eyes and sucked in air like I had momentarily been underwater. My lungs didn’t feel as heavy as they used to, but it still felt laborious to inhale and exhale. It took me a few moments to adjust to the reality that I was still breathing.

It wasn’t a pretty sight, spluttering like a fish, sobbing like some blubbering fool, clutching at my chest like it had somehow been detached in some bizarre series of events.

Actually, the preceding events had been rather bizarre, my head snapped back to reality with the sound of someone strumming the cords of an out of tune guitar.

“Geha” I said aloud, morning the dead of my beloved, yes I named my computer, who doesn’t? I wiped a single tear from my eye, already I was thinking about building a funeral pyre for my one and only. Of course, that would entail firewood and manual labor, and well…going outside. None of which things I had done in a rather long time, Styrofoam would burn right?

“You’re awake?” the voice made me jump. My head swiveled in her direction, ignoring the protests of my rather stiff neck. Perched on top of a heap of trash and other unmentionables was a girl.

It was rather disconcerting how out of place she looked. Everything from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair seemed out of place in this filth. She had curly blond hair that tickled her cheeks, and bright green eyes that reminded me of July. She didn’t look hurt, which was good, all that broken glass could do damage to a girl’s skin, actually wait…

My eyes narrow as I stare at the silver glint held in her soft small hands, the knife shines brightly even in the faint illumination.

“Take all of my money, just spare my life!” I scream, digging into my pockets and offering my meager savings to the grim reaper that had stolen into my room. In the silence that followed I realized my folly, what would a thief do with a handful of coins, some lint, and a piece of string?

It was moments later before I realized she had fallen from her perch in a fit of laughter.

0/2

I need to rethink my strategy. For one thing, I don’t like outside, outside scares me, and so running for the door seems like a really dumb idea. That leaves only one other option, quickly while she is distracted I need to make my escape.

NOPE.

There is something really disarming about laughter, so instead I just sat there dumbfounded while she laughed until tears welled up in her eyes. She was rubbing her tears away with her sleeves still giggling before she regained some semblance of composure. She righted herself with some sort of wounded dignity, like she had meant all along to fall over and be helpless like that. She smoothed the fringe of her skirt and cleared her throat.

“I am not here to rob you” she spoke calmly, even though there was still the faint semblance of mirth on her face. “Actually, sorry about the window” she appended; I mentally took note that she actually apologized for the act. There was a small pause as her face twisted with something complex before she decided on her approach.

It wasn’t one I was really expecting.

“Can I like…hide her for a while?” she asked.

“Wait what?” my response didn’t elaborate on how confused I was; the scale difference was like a drop of water compared to the entire ocean. It was the difference between a campfire and the sun. It was the difference between a single atom and the rest of the universe.

For one thing, I can’t be feeding stray cats on a non-existent salary. And for another, getting a better look at this girl I can’t help but think she should still be in school. Alarms start to go off in my head as panic sets in. Child run-away and jobless man; new headlines for the paper are attempted rape, assault and kidnapping.

No, that is poor logic skills, I wouldn’t rape…I have to pause myself mid-thought and reassess what I really would and would not do, and decidedly reach the conclusion that I would indeed ‘tap that’. But I morally would be obliged to kill myself if I forced myself upon her. There, that’s good. Wait no, no it is not, my brain hasn’t reached consensus on whether or not I would still act upon something like this!

Stupid brain, stop staring at her breasts!

I will my mouth to form a sentence; it is a saving grace to run on auto-pilot while my head is under duress from confusing circumstances.

“H-how old are you?” I say, even I notice my stutter, great now I am becoming dyslexic. Even better would be to develop a limp and get arthritis or something. The girl looks a little surprised that that was my first question, but even on auto-pilot I am still thinking along the same sort of lines and it scares me.

“Sixteen” she replies curtly, wearing it like a badge of honor.

Age of consent my brain replies. My body in turn decides now would be a grand time to go rigid. I want to cry, but all my fluids have decidedly fled from my tear ducks. Shut up brain, you are not helping at all.

“Why are you running away?” I ask. A much more reasonable line of questioning, even if in the back of my mind I can hear myself pondering erstwhile darker thoughts, I wish I could just turn myself off like a light switch.

“It’s complicated” she started but stopped herself short and looked a little embarrassed. “I-I need to use the bathroom, sorry” she said.

I tried to stop her, but it was already too late before my brain caught up to the situation and she was at the door. There was almost a slow-motion moment as the door opened and the air crackled in anticipation. She stood there, arms locked to her side stiff as a board. And then she fell over, evidently having fainted from the smell.

Headlines: Rape.

No, no, no, no, no!

I sit on my hands. It would only take a little while for her to wake up I surmise, the smell wasn’t nearly as bad as it was before. Which, considering it knocked a girl out still, is still pretty bad, I could roll her in there and she would just die.

Now that’s a morbid line of thinking I would rather not approach again. But of course, my brain continues on that line despite my protests. Brain does what brain wants, doesn’t listen to no one, what a jerk.

This disconnect is rather disturbing.

Still, I stare at her pale face, I wonder if she is dead? She did sort of fall like a sack of bricks, the impact sounded louder than I would have expected. But I guess I don’t really have much experience listening to the sound of girls falling to be able to properly judge that. I suppose with a tripwire and about a week’s time I could quantify some data…wait stop thinking like that!

Still, she looks pretty, that much I can admit to myself. Her sleeping face looks oddly peaceful. Tranquil I suppose is the word for it, even in the darkness a flower blooms? I suppose calling her a flower is appropriate, it is generally associated to the gender anyway. My eyes venture away from her face.

Come on, just a peak?

No brain, stop it; really, I don’t want this. The chiding voice inside of me laughs at my inability to reason with myself.

But, you do want this.

No I don’t, I say that but I am watching her chest rise and fall as she takes each breath. Well at least she is alive, I mentally check a box. Ah, but how sweet a fruit is, that which is most forbidden? No, stop this line of thought, please for the love of all that is pure and sweet and oh god I want it so bad.

Just a little bit.

No, stop, please.

Stop being a coward and cop-a-feel already!

I punch myself in the face, it hurt. For a moment I wasn’t quite sure what I did, but I wasn’t thinking about anything other than the fact that I just punched myself full-on in the face.

“…are you okay?” a small voice, the girl is on the floor looking up at me.

Fool, you missed your chance!

Silence retard! Stop thinking like that. I am momentarily halted from pursuing more internal conflicts with myself by the sound of coughing and wrenching. The second time today someone had vomited on this floor.

She was staring down at the mess she had made with a puzzled look on her face, she was looking up at me and then back at the floor as if I was going to beat her with a stick. The door behind her shut with a snap-hiss sealing back the stench. I was starting to think I should put warning labels when she burst into tears.

“I was just, I just, I’m sorry, I don’t even” she was blubbering and apologizing and making absolutely no coherent sense. There were four or five mixed up sentences crammed into one long stream of verbal diarrhea that was spewing out of her mouth. I guess she was trying to explain her actions but I didn’t even really care, nobody died or anything so getting angry is just a waste of time and energy at this point.

I don’t really know how to treat children, or girls for that matter. I don’t even have paper towels or anything to clean up this mess, I look around and nothing really seems clean, well except this. I take off my shirt, she didn’t even really notice, I wasn’t even thinking anything just reacting to emotions. I bent down and wiped her face, even covered in tears and vomit she was kind of cute.

I could hear a muffled thank you before she dissolved into a fit of tears again. Somewhere along the way I had stopped being scared and settled into simple confusion. I had many questions, but I didn’t really care to hear the answers.

Just one pressing question loomed to mind, how am I supposed to fix that window? No, stupid, I mean, what am I supposed to do with this girl?

Also, how I had managed to keep this shirt clean was sort of a puzzle in itself. Even I could not fathom how it had managed to remain stain-free for extended periods of time, as I am quite convinced that I have been wearing this same shirt for days.

Possibly weeks, I don’t even know what day it is today. I think a Monday; it feels like a Monday, or possibly a Wednesday. No! The day of the week doesn’t matter!

There is a muffled sound of protest, I had been smothering her face in my shirt and she apparently couldn’t breathe. It was strange, compared to when she broke in through my window she was being rather docile.

Headlines: rape.

STOP DOING THAT!!

My head still hadn’t wrapped around the situation, I had just gained some semblance of control when the door blew off its hinges. In the broken doorway stood a man wearing a gas mask and fire-retardant clothing. The bright orange was a disturbing contrast to the pealed paint and musty floors of the outer hallway.

I brace myself on the side of the room and raise a hand up, “please stop, I just need to think for a moment” my head was spinning. First the girl, now this weirdo, I have had enough stimulation for the day.

There was a scream.

I am pretty sure I heard it from behind me, but I couldn’t hear very well anymore. In fact, I couldn’t properly feel anything anymore. I looked down and saw the splatter across my chest.

I didn’t feel the impact of the bullet, but I could see blood oozing out of the hole in my side. I look up and see the muzzle of his gun flash, I wasn’t even trying to protect her but I moved in front of her anyways.

Everything was breaking down, in my head I could hear a screaming voice telling me to get out of the way but I was already there so I didn’t bother to listen. I was like all my nerves were shot dead already; I didn’t feel anything even though I knew I would be dead in a moment.

It was frustrating really, I didn’t feel any pain, but at the same time there was the knowledge that if I had felt any this would have been over already. I feel myself fall to my knees; I guess my legs finally gave out.

That girl is still screaming I don’t know who she is talking to; it could be either of us in the room. She darted past me on unsteady feet, that man had tossed his pistol to the floor and was now holding an axe in both hands.

I still can’t get over the fact that he shot me! What a dick! Who just barges into someone’s house and shoots someone?!

Still what a silly girl, that little knife isn’t going to be very useful against an axe. Weapon triangle, obviously you would want a sword, a knife is neutral ground.

But this isn’t a game, the axe swings down and she narrowly dodges, in the same span of time she wedged the knife into that mans shoulder with all the force she could muster. It just wasn’t enough.

With his free hand he struck her across the face and she fell to the floor. He reached for the handle of the knife and pried it free from his shoulder, tossing it to the ground. It was over now, I could see him hefting that axe over his unwounded shoulder, in just a moment she would be dead.

If I were to accept fate, then this moment would have happened regardless of my choices. Then everything I have done up to this point has been leading to this single path. If this is destiny, preordained from the beginning, if it is written, then I refuse to believe. I don’t want to believe that from the very start I was supposed to just die like this.

Why do I feel so frustrated? I shouldn’t care; she is just some nobody who broke in through my window. I shouldn’t feel anything, so then why do I feel so…angry?

If I am going to die, it should be on my own terms.

My vision is spotted and blurry; I fall forward and catch myself just barely. I am on my hands and feet now, barely able to bare my weight. I reach forwards; the faint illumination reveals the shards of glass in front of me.

I feel its weight, as the edges dig into my skin as I grip it in my hand. I don’t care about myself right now; I am already done for anyway. I struggle to my feet, almost falling backwards. He hasn’t even noticed me, fuck this shit.

I drive the wedge of glass home, cutting into his neck. There was a strangled cry as his throat filled with fluid, I watch him drop to the floor with more than a little satisfaction. I don’t even care that my legs gave out right after and I dropped to the floor.

I can feel myself bleeding out on the ground, I close my eyes fully expecting never to wake up again.

[anamesis]

dontevenknowwhatIamdoing


0/3

I am quite certain that there is a seagull wearing a top hat and a tuxedo riding an orange shark in the air in the middle of the room in front of me. But I am also quite certain that I got shot several times and I should be dead.

The obvious answer to this conundrum is that I am a wizard.

No, that doesn’t make any sense either. I don’t even have a three-corner hat or robes. So thereby by process of elimination, I am not dead.

Great, I am pretty sure I have been here before.

My head hurts.

I open a single eye tentatively, blinking back tears in the stark whiteness. I feel like I am floating on clouds, could this possible be? Is this heaven?

Of course not retard, I open my other eye and spot a yellowing stain on the ceiling. The hospital bed creaks as I shift my weight a little, outside I could hear the chirping of birds. Somehow I am a little disappointed that I am not being greeted Saint Peter, or in a more likely case, Lucifer.

I raise myself up into a sitting position, it was much more trouble than I thought it was going to be. Both my hands were heavily bandaged and my stomach felt like someone had taken a sledge hammer and smashed my liver and kidneys repeatedly. I was short of breath by the time I was upright, and only then did I notice the remote for raising the bed.

Maybe it was the painkillers flooding through my veins, but this peaceful and tranquil sort of atmosphere just served to make me even more restless. Thinking back, I just did something incredibly stupid. I could have really died there, not the kind of thing I should laugh at, I really almost died there.

I look down and see a spiral like a flower blooming out of my chest, and then another, and another. Like red roses on a bed of white, I frown, my wounds had evidently opened. It didn’t quite hurt so much as it was just uncomfortable, I could feel the sensation of blood dripping down my chest.

I reach for the remote, but it become rather apparent that it would be difficult to press buttons with bandaged hands. This is kind of annoying; I can’t really get up either.

“Hey, nurse?” I yell out, but there wasn’t any response. Lovely, you would think there would be someone within earshot.

The pain faded away to a dull ache, but I was still bleeding profusely. My mind turned elsewhere to idle musings. Like what happened after I stabbed that man in the neck? Evidently someone called the police; it was a rather loud racket. And what happened to that girl…?

Suddenly the window opened and a girl tumbled in. I recognized her from before; it was that crazy girl who broke my window! Speak of the devil I guess. Ah, but this time she made a much more graceful entrance rather than breaking the glass.

She dusted herself off and stood bolt upright as she realized I was staring at her. There was a momentary silence before she burst into tears. In between sobs I could hear her saying something like ‘this is great’ and ‘you are alive’ but the rest was just a blubbering mess. Finally she wipes her eyes with her sleeves and puts on a brave smile. I stop her before she even tries to start.

“I don’t care” I say to her, then her face plummets and she shrinks back like a wounded animal. I pause to rethink, I don’t really feel like she is someone to blame, she is just an idiot. “Hey, do you have any duct tape?” I ask.

She burst into laughter. I am starting to think there is something wrong with this girl.

My head hurts.

“So you laugh whenever you feel nervous and it often leads to misunderstandings?”I repeat. She just nods silently as she sits at the foot of my bed. Just moments before she had redressed my bandages like a professional, and now she was meekly sitting hunched over. I can’t tell if this girl is a tiger or a hamster.

“So the police found you bent over my body laughing and thought you committed a murder so you ran away.” I repeat. Again she just nodded.

“But you came to visit me because you were worried and thought I died” I repeat. She looked up for a moment with a sad smile and nodded again.

“And that guy was trying to kill you because you ran away from a religious cult that had been keeping you captive.” I repeat. Now she was crying, nodding and crying.

This is absolutely ridiculous. I don’t even know where to begin. The seagull riding the orange shark was flying overhead again. My vision was starting to cut out; I think I lost too much blood from before. She was saying something else but it wasn’t making any sense anymore. She was saying something about unicorns and instant noodles.

I am pretty sure I heard that wrong. But everything is going dark, I try to say something but my mouth feels so heavy I can’t even make an attempt. I close my eyes and the darkness greats me with open arms.

I am sinking into the darkness. It is comfy here; I don’t know why I feel so compelled to leave. Everything I need is here, why do I want to leave again? If I just let go and fall a little bit further I won’t have to do anything ever again, it would be so easy to just let it all end.

To lay all these regrets to rest, to let this body sleep for a while. It would be nice; I like to entertain the thought of salvation. I have no memories of this place; this time is standing still forever in my mind. How long have I been here in this place?

This standstill at the edge of hell, I should be pushed down and left to burn in agony. Left to fall into ruin and stoned to death.

A single thought calls me back to a place. I want to forget this; I want to burry this memory dead in the blackest night. But again it calls out, like a chime announcing an endless midnight. Dragging me back to a cathedral of light, a place that burns my heart to tread upon, ringing clear into my soul.

Again I am here; a knife called love pierced my ice-cold heart. It stabbed through my chest and broke me apart like glass. I was supposed to be there, but I wasn’t. And in the end it wouldn’t have matter; nothing I have ever done really mattered.

Everything was burning; I remember screaming her name as I watched the fire burn. I remember fighting back faceless people as they held me back. I remember them carrying out the charred bodies after the blaze was out.

I can see the faint outline of her face, surrounded by fire she is calming staring at me, but I can’t meet her eyes. I can’t even properly say goodbye. I don’t deserve salvation, I don’t deserve happiness.

“Is daddy home yet?” at the bare limits of my consciousness I hear that faint voice, and my broken heart breaks a little more.

I don’t really deserve to live anymore.

It’s dark when I wake up again. My body is covered in sweat; someone had changed my bandages again while I slept. That girl was gone, good, I don’t’ really want to deal with her right now. Everything ached, even though my body resisted I rolled onto my side. It felt like someone was driving hot forks into my body with far too much enthusiasm.

I pushed past the pain kept going, only to fall off the edge of the bed and hit the floor. It was cold down here, I could hear alarms going off somewhere in the distance but I didn’t really care. The floor felt good right now, my body was burning up.

“Hey, what are you doing on the floor?” a small voice was speaking.

I look up from where I am lying; I can see the faint outline of a child. I must still be dreaming, this is just a cruel reminder now. Broken, beaten, and all alone, this is what is left to greet me. Just a ghost of a past long forgotten by anyone else, here to remind me of what I have lost.

“Are you cold?” the voice asks.

“Yeah, just a little” I find myself responding. I don’t really care about the cold.

“Aren’t you being a little hard on yourself?” the voice continues.

I don’t know about that, I didn’t have the strength to respond. I feel a small hand touch my forehead just before I fade back into the blackness. Elsewhere I can hear the rhythmic sound of distant footsteps.

“When are you going to forgive yourself?” the voice asks, even though no one was left to hear those words.