It was a
dull and dreary morning, the clouds obscuring the sun in all their darkness.
There wasn't the slightest trace of pure sunshine anywhere. Whatever light
there was, was impure - contaminated by the dark clouds. The only thing missing
was rain - to make that November-end morning an epitome of sorrow, depression
and hopelessness.
In house
W-10, Scrotie McBoogerballs sat by a window, identifying with the weather
outside. For him, life was equally sad, dreary and hopeless - if not more.
"Good bye", that is all it said - careless and unpunctuated; the
capitalization, a courtesy of the T9. His world was turned upside down. He was
hurt by the neglect, and also by the sudden ignorance of his existence. He yearned
for yesterday, when things were alright, but he wasn't smart enough to build a
time-machine. He realised that he needed a distraction, to take his mind off
the whole. He started by trying to suck his manly appendage, but owning to the
lack of sizability and of a flexible body, he failed. He was sad again.
He needed
something else to distract him. I'll watch T.V, he decided.
So he
went to lie on the couch, and simply mechanically switched from one channel to
another. In nothing did he find interest.
He
tuned-in to VH1. It was time for South Park.
Maybe,
just maybe, that will do it - given that its so freaking awesome, he thought.
Maybe there will be something ridiculously funny to make you laugh your gut
out. Yes, laughter - the best medicine, isn't it? Or is that Viagra? Dunno,
something. But maybe it will help. Maybe some celebrity
will be heavily picked upon today, and there might be yet another innovation in
the ways to kill Kenny. Let's watch.
But the half-hour
passed, and it had not helped. He hadn't managed to laugh - or even grin, for
that matter - at any of the punches. HE HAD NOT FOUND SOUTH PARK FUNNY!!
It was
then, that it really dawned on to him how deep he had fallen into the pit of
depression and hopeless. He abhored his existence. He had lost all will, he had
lost all desire..
Two hours
later, policemen crowded the neighbourhood.
In W-10, they found Scrotie McBoogerballs shot in the head, and hanging
by his scrotum. The gun lay on the floor in all the blood underneath.
Suicide,
they decided. So, they searched the house for a suicide note - because that is
what all the morons do, write moronic notes and kill themselves.
After a
fruitless but arduous search, when one of the officers went to get some chilled
water, the note was finally found in the refrigerator under a soup bowl. It
went like this:
"I
do not wish not live anymore. I have spoiled everything. I do not think
repentance will be of any significance. There is no way for me to get out of
this - unless, of course, I kill.. Yeah, that will do it! I should kill myself!
That is exactly what I will do, but getting back again.. My life is a lost
cause now. I have chicken-arms, a bullet-head and I can't suck my own cock!
And, if that wasn't enough, now even South Park doesn't make me laugh. And that
just does it!
So if
anybody ever finds this, I just have one message to pass on to the world:
Boys and
Girls, don't ever let yourself become so helpless that you don't find South
Park funny. Remember, No matter what the sorrow, so long as find it funny, your
life is freaking awesome! So, if you're ever depressed, take the South Park
test - watch an episode - and if you are not amused by it, GO KILL YOURSELF
ASSHOLE!
Its all
over. I can't take this anymore. It just hurts too much.
Good bye"
And so,
after an unpunctuated farewell, Scrotie McBoogerballs hung himself by his
scrotum.
