literally, the worst

I open my eyes to an 120-degree, steadycam vision blurry at the edges. I’m in a diner, a window booth. There is a notification on the top-right of my.. vision? Which prompts me to “Open personalized guide”. Underneath it, there’s some Matrix-style writing scrolling by. I want to hurl — where am I? Who is this nice-looking diner lady coming towards me~

Hi there and welcome to Spontaneous Combustion Thursdays, would you like a menu, dearie? Also, here is your written guide, be sure to read it on either medium, and accept terms & conditions before anything.

A small-town smile. My eyes twitch. I’m, like, literally in Hell.

Uhm, menu, I guess.

I try to tap the notification. More errors scroll by, downwards, rushing to get to error Hell. It won’t budge. Literally can’t tap this. I wipe my forehead, clutch my temples, dry heave, glance out the window.

Outside, an unconvincing midday sun is trying to shine over a tiny wretched town, but the town looks more like the perpetually overcast type so it isn’t cooperating at all. Scattered wooden buildings clutch on to the main road for dear life, as if the bleak, hungry scenery would literally pull them in if they didn’t.

A hillside chomps a few one-story houses.

I rub my eyes and shrug, obviously cabin-fevered, and ask for a cup of Joe — I’m a natural black belt, a queen of monster hangovers. I can get through this with literally just a drop of coffee and sheer force of will.

Across the table there literally now sits Will Shakespeare, eager to arm-wrestle me. I try to let him down gently.

I don’t do middle-aged dudes.

He vanishes.

There’s the nice waitress, she’s coming back with a steaming cup. What’s this coming out of the cup? It’s cold.. the steam is cold, and speaking Russian! I have to gleam. I gleam. There’s literally a miniature Joseph Stalin inside the cup, giving a speech in my general direction.

Lady, would it hurt you to bring me coffee, like I asked?

I see her pirouetting abruptly, and the scalding hot liquid inside the pot splashing her nice face, causing a nice burn to literally half of it.

Dearie, please read the guide before anything, thank you!

I’m left dumbfounded. Not sure what it means, but sounds about right and pretty sure I’m literally it right now. Breathe.

I look around once more. Across the road, placid local sheep literally poop landmines. Two booths across, some dudes seem to be crafting some sort of tick-tocking bracelets with beaks and feathers.

Birdwatchers.

Three booths over is already Stalin-in-the-mug territory — he’s already having the vodka-piroshki breakfast combo on the house, a tiny house inside his tiny cup.

From the back of the diner, I can hear a huge commotion, doubled by dubious odours. I have to literally force my head to turn in that direction. Satanic eyes with horizontal pupils rise to meet my gaze, and I can make out the noises now — what I’m hearing is soul-shattering bleating.

Kids’ booth.

The TV roars out infomercials for the Necronomnomnomicon cookbook. All of a sudden the channel changes and a waxy has-been wearing a skunky hairpiece yells out

<Participant name>, It’s time to play

WHEEL!

OF!

MISFORTUNE!

But before we do so, let’s help <Participant name> out, shall we?

What are they supposed to do, audience?
The audience enthusiastically goes

READ!

THEIR!

GUIDE!

ACCEPT!

THE!

TERMS!

That’s right, folks, we’re not playing Wheel of Misfortune until they do just that.

He then freezes in a mouth-half-open rictus, emanating a high-pitched sound over the TV static, and literally proceeds to stare into my soul.

My eyes, I can’t control them, I feel them wanting to turn literally in all directions at once. This is too much. The guide. I need the written guide.

Welcome to your intervention! At the end of this intervention, you will have learned to correct the trait signaled in the intervention request. To find out what that trait is, please refer to your personalized video guide.

What

This is a supplement for the training you’ve already received subconsciously. Please follow your personalized video guide for a detailed walkthrough.

I literally can’t!

What you see is known as a scenario tailored to address and correct the unwanted behavior trait. Please refer to the personalized video guide.

I literally can’t tho’

In this scenario you will notice participants known as NPCs, whose role is to mold your approach and stimulate the retraining of the character trait stipulated in the intervention request. For more information, consult your personalized video guide.

Still unable to do so, I’m afraid.

I’m feeling lightheaded and fainty. There’s a sugar dispenser in front of me; I literally gulp half its contents. I’m feeling watched. A bird-watch slams me across the face. I look over to the birdwatchers.

Say, fellas, your heads killing you too?

Their mandibles dislodge, their heads swallow themselves with a muffled noise.

Hey, kids! Did you check out today’s breakfast special?

I hear it’s literally to die for!

The goats start fighting each other in a flurry of hooves, horns and satanic bleats — the perfect kids’ birthday party and/or black metal moshpit. It’s over before I can blink.

Hey, Stalin! I never liked your stupid mug anyway!

The mug poof s into oblivion. He wasn’t wearing pants, the stinker.

In all seriousness, no matter the medium or the circumstances, wherever you may appear, you are a horrible human being and you literally deserve to die all over again.

He promptly does.

And so do all your sympathizers, like, literally!

The nice waitress lady joins him soon after.

I get a popup saying “500 Something went wrong — Resetting scenario” and a “loading” sign. I’ve literally never been more ready to accept terms & conditions in my entire life. I’ll tap that notification so bad — like no-one’s ever tapped it before.

Things literally have to go more smoothly the second time around, you know, since the first time — it was, like, LITERALLY, THE WORST.

Originally published at http://trepanatie.wordpress.com on August 24, 2020.