It’s not original to write a whatever this is on status updates on facebook. No, wait. First of all, it’s blazing hot outside and my neighbor is blasting “Mele Keliki Maka” at full volume. It’s not funny Rob. It will never be funny. Rob you fucking idiot, it’s ninety shitting degrees at night. THE SUN ISN’T EVEN OUT YOU CRAZY SHIT.
You guys are doing this facebook status thing wrong. I know it sounds like I’m accusing all of you again for minor discrepancies, but minor discrepancies lead to things like occupational dermatitis, and God knows you don’t know what job can lead to occupational dermatitis. You may already have it.
Don’t update your status about an earthquake when one has just happened. Everybody on your friends list is probably in the same geographical region as you, so they’ll already know an earthquake has happened. They don’t need to be reminded when they go online because it’s hard to forget the world as you know it suddenly shaking back and forth between your very eyes as if you were in an earthquake.
As for the friends outside of your geographical area: They don’t need to know about earthquakes unless you want to share a horrifying experience like that with them via a private telephone conversation. If the quake is major they’ll hear about it from the news so you still don’t even have to update your status. If you’re in an affected area they’ll already assume you weren’t trying to update your status during a 9.7 magnitude earthquake in a computer lab in the basement of your community college. They’ll assume everything is alright and you’re not trapped under fourteen Dells and the entire library.
That E.E. Cummings quote about laughing being good for your soul or some gay shit like that? There’s a time and a place for that quote and the fact of the matter is I don’t even know the time and the place for it. Wedding vows maybe, I don’t know. But keep it away from the internet. This place is a filthy nightmare and there’s something wrong about having such an insightful piece on the healthiness of laughter next to midgets banging hairless donkeys. Whatever’s good left inside you will die the day that happens. On accident. Again.
Oh. My. God. It’s like Final Destination.
What if your status is now God’s Final Judgement? You’ve already made it this far, hear me out for only two more thrusts: You get to the gates of Heaven and Peter’s there and there’s a line and shit but it’s Heaven so like, whatever. I guess, you know? It’s only a couple more minutes. Theme parks were training for this bullshit.
And you get to the front of the line to get into Heaven and Peter’s all tripping balls in your fucking face and goes “Tell me what your last facebook status was.” Shit, and now you’re all pissed because Peter’s an asshole but then you remember that life’s entirety was training for this bullshit. So like, screw this cake fucker. Slap him down with some knowledge.
You give him your answer: “The most wasted of all days is one without laughter. It’s an E.E. Cummings quote.”
Peter gazes down at his magical book of life information. His eyes dart back and forth, searching for information about your life. You don’t say anything because it’s probably been a while since you’ve seen a book. Useless objects, you think. So glad President Obama called for The Burning in 2013. That was so cool, a nation united together, purging themselves of their most inefficient vessels of information while simultaneously giving the finger to the Ozone. Man, and who even knew Delaware was a state anyway—your mind drifts off. Peter has been looking at the book for an undetermined amount of time. His lips curl.
“You fell out of your computer chair laughing so hard.”
“Ahahahahaa,” you’ll laugh again, you stupid son of a bitch.
“You broke your neck.”
Is that irony or a coincidence, you’ll think, but “What was I laughing at?” is what will escape your mouth. “I’d think I’d remember how I died.”
“You were reading one of Jenna Rash’s status updates on facebook.” Your mouth hangs agape. You feel a sudden burning sensation in your heart. A little bit of you has died again. Peter just rolls his eyes.
“You’re the third guy we’ve had this week.”
This is how your journey to Hell begins.
Btw, don’t post poems because they don’t format correctly—especially haikus. Thx :3