Friday, January 23, 2015

The Terminator's Diary


The year is 2020 and the internet has achieved sentience. To prevent humanity from using its vast powers for shame and perversion, the internet has sent a brave warrior back in time to terminate former Vice President Al Gore, who invented it. This is that warrior's log.

Date Unknown, Day One
I materialize in a storm of blue lightning, bare-ass naked. A group of punks is staring at me, foolish grins on their meaty, dumb faces. "Give me your clothes," I tell them. One is filming me on a cellular phone. "Forget you, buddy," says the leader, flipping me the bird. They turn and leave. I pursue them, forming a plan to murder them and steal their clothes, but a police car sees me and I have to retreat to the sewers, where I crawl through human feces for several hundred yards. I meet a rat named Sam that has also achieved sentience. His language is simple but elegant. I explain to him my mission, and he agrees to assist me as much as possible. We exit the sewer behind a Ponderosa. He tells me what he knows about the present as he feasts on discarded meals from the dumpster. Unfortunately, being a rat, he knows nothing relevant to my mission.


Day Two
I befriend a homeless man living in the dumpster behind the Ponderosa and obtain a set of clothes. I ask him what he knows about Al Gore. "Global warming and all that bullshit," he says, unintelligible. He then commences to urinate for approximately half an hour. My biological parts need sustenance, so I enter the Ponderosa. "Give me food if you want to live," I tell the waiter. I am pointed to the buffet. Standing there is a crowd of people so fat that I am rendered speechless. I do not get in line for fear of catching the fat disease. I later consume a handful of acorns obtained by Sam in the park.

Day Three
I obtain some vital intelligence on Al Gore from another homeless man who we'll call "Bob." Bob says Al Gore lives in a glass house that runs on the sun in Tennessee, and that it is heavily fortified and guarded by an advanced race of space aliens called the "Fiddle-Faddle." It is clear that I will need advanced weaponry if I am to succeed in my mission, so I go to a pawn shop. They do not have any pulse rifles, so I have to settle for a small-caliber handgun. Unfortunately, I have nothing to pay with. I try to shoot the shop owner, but the gun has no bullets, so I flee into the streets and have to spend my day hiding once again in the sewer.


Day Four
Okay, this is fucked up. Apparently I was not sent back far enough. The year is 2015. 2015! It doesn't fucking matter if Al Gore's dead! I learned this from a library computer. I spent the rest of my day watching cat videos. I don't know what the hell to do.   


1 comment:

  1. "I try to shoot the shop owner, but the gun has no bullets." LOL

    ReplyDelete