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2: You came back!

You came back! I’m so glad. I feel like I may have hurt your feelings last time you visited. I took some time to do research and I have found that the average human does not like being called a primitive ape. Some humans rather enjoy it, and in fact jumped up and down with glee when I called them such, scratching their armpits and waving bananas around, and I think they really felt a kinship with this wording. But you, you did not like it. You were eating an apple at the time and swaying from side to side and scratching your genitals, and you feel this is significantly different. Much more human, you insist. I shrug. I really wish you wouldn’t scratch your naughty bits while eating. It’s rude.

Today we take a fresh start. It is like opening sealed packaging… very satisfying. You know it’s new because it is sealed so tightly, in a way that only a machine can seal something. You know it is free from human meddling. Much unlike the candy I gave you once, where to my satisfaction you did not immediately notice that it had been unwrapped once before, but you did garner an inkling when you saw the candy had teeth marks in it. The fact is, I did not like it and I didn’t want it to go to waste. If you were less paranoid and didn’t have to inspect everything before you put it in your mouth, you would have never been the wiser. But you did inspect it, and our relationship was somewhat altered negatively. I blame you. You really didn’t have to pay such close attention. Besides, I didn’t have the flu or anything. You can ingest my bacteria without fear! You’re welcome.

 A fresh start is like opening the fresh packaging of a new pair of headphones sealed tightly in plastic. Impatient, you start pulling it apart, seeing the crease and using your common sense to figure how to pop it open. But the machine sealed it firmly and you struggle valiantly, until part of it tears open and the hard, jagged plastic cuts your hand. You are frustrated and angry, but hopefully you do not express it by assaulting the headphones; they did not mean anything by it (though the plastic certainly did, nasty stuff). You get a pair of scissors and struggle with those instead, and perhaps cut up the instructions in the process, by accident. “Whatevs!” you say, abbreviating like a teenager. “Who needs instructions for a pair of headphones?! Certainly not me!” But then you struggle even further with them because they have bonus functions and you aren’t sure which button does what, and they won’t work properly. And you find you’ve cut the wire as well and then you assault the headphones.

Indeed, it is like going to the store and putting on a pair of fresh, stiff jeans for the first time. They are as clean as they can be, from the manufacturer to you. And then a few store employees handled them, but they only touched the outsides, you imagine. And then a few people tried them on before you, rubbing the insides of this fresh pair of jeans against their not-so-fresh undergarments, and then those lovely employees re-handled those pants and folded them/hung them good as new, and finally you slide them on, and they’re your brand new jeans. And you find a hair inside and some dust on the shin.

Yes, it is like sitting your buttocks down on a clean-looking seat in a public space, shortly after a girl in a very short skirt and a thong sat on it, leaving behind traces of fecal matter.

 Quite, it is–you are looking at me with wide, discomfited eyes. It is something like apprehension, or even rage! You ask me to stop ‘ruining things’. I don’t understand. Do you want to buy a fresh pair of jeans? We can take public transit, I offer! You take off running. I feel I may have botched our second encounter, but after your display of persistence I have no doubt I’ll be seeing you again! Though you do have one request. You want to be featured more prominently. You suggest I build a statue of you. This sounds like quite the effort on my part, and I feebly make an excuse that I am out of popsicle sticks. This placates you for now. Still, you say, you feel you did not get enough of a chance to speak. Well then, next time, I will spend more time listening and less time telling you about bacteria.

 Now that we have confirmed you are dedicated… let us begin!

About moriwriter

Do you want to know about me? Of course not! You're far more interested in what I know about you. In fact, you're a little concerned with what I know about you... because how do I know that? It's no matter. To understand would require a brief swim in the murky depths of my mind, and you didn't bring your swimsuit and also you don't like getting wet. Never mind me. Let's talk about you.

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