Last Ten


Tag Archive: babies

A friend called last night to see if I wanted to help him kill/death/bomb ISIS. I had never killed/deathed/bombed anything, but I was bored so I said, “Okay.” Supposedly, there was an ISIS house at the edge of town. I was a little nervous because in general I am against killing/deathing/bombing things but there’s nothing more dangerous than a bored capitalist and last night I accidentally became so bored I was dangerous to the rest of the world. Still, as we walked toward the ISIS house I was like, “Maybe we shouldn’t literally kill/death/bomb ISIS like can’t we metaphorically kill/death/bomb them or something?” My friend laughed and said, “Dude relax, I got one of those machines that does all the killing/deathing/bombing for you.” He was holding up some sort of weird looking kill/death/bomb machine. It felt pretty good knowing we could kill/death/bomb ISIS without actually doing any killing/deathing/bombing ourselves. Anyway, the ISIS house was right at the edge of town where you would expect to find ISIS houses. It even had a giant sign on the front that said, “ISIS.” My friend thought this was funny. He kept saying, “Oh my god ISIS is so dumb,” as he set up the death/kill/bomb toy. I noticed there was only one button in the middle of the death/kill/bomb device. After my friend pressed the button we ran in the opposite direction as the death/kill/bomb machine went in the ISIS house and began to death/kill/bomb all the ISIS people in the house. I imagined my friend and I getting a medal. It actually didn’t feel too bad to thoughtlessly kill strangers. I began to understand why everyone loves war so much. Through the window I saw this really big ISIS guy get killed. I think my friend yelled, “Yeah dude!” The death/kill/bomb device was really efficient. It deathed/killed/bombed so many ISIS people I began to wonder if there were any ISIS people left in the world. When everything in the ISIS house was dead my friend held up his hand and said, “slap it.” I slapped it really good and said, “Cool let’s go home and eat some of those standard American diet (SAD) foods,” but my friend was like, “I don’t think the death/kill/bomb machine is done.” I told him to turn it off because all the ISIS seemed dead. My friend laughed and said there was no off button. There was only an on button. I looked back at the death/bomb/kill machine. It had moved on to the house next to the ISIS house and was killing everyone in that house. I begin yelling but my friend pointed at the sign on the house. It said, “ISIS FAMILY MEMBERS.” And for a second I was like, “Oh that makes sense,” but then I got worried my parents might be in there before I remember I’m their only child and I’m not ISIS. So the death/bomb/kill machine deathed/bombed/killed all the ISIS relatives and I got excited because I thought we were done but my friend pointed at the next house which had a sign on the outside that said, “ISIS BABIES.” It’s then that I realized the death/kill/bomb machine would never get turned off. I begin to cry, “BUT THEY’RE JUST BABIES.” My friend was like, “NO THEY’RE ISIS BABIES.” I asked him what an ISIS BABY was. He said, “It’s any baby that could grow up to be ISIS.” It seemed like literally every baby was capable of growing up to be an ISIS baby, but I didn’t say anything. My friend laughed. I got a little nauseous as I looked at the other houses on the street. There was one full of all the teachers who had ever taught an ISIS and a house for any doctor who had ever healed an ISIS and one for any person who had ever talked to an ISIS. The last house was for anyone who had ever paid taxes and somehow indirectly funded the weapons ISIS eventually used. It took me a few seconds before I realized this was my house. I thought, “Oh damn,” and was about to kill/death/bomb myself when I realized the death/bomb/kill machine in the ISIS baby house was making weird noises. I ran inside. The house was literally filled with every baby currently alive and dead in the world. Baby blood and shit was smeared all over the death/kill/bomb machine. The babies still not dead yet didn’t seem to understand what was going on and the dead ones were dead so they didn’t understand either. One dead baby was looking me in the eye and seemed to be say, “I NOT ISIS” and I was like, “I know,” but my friend was like, “Technically it’s impossible to know anything,” and then added, “It’s better to just kill the babies to be safe because that’s the only way you’ll know for sure they won’t turn into ISIS.” At this point I was like, “Dude you need to stop or I’m going to unfriend you on facebook.” And my friend was like, “ALL FRIENDS MATTER!!!” And I was going to unfriend him right there but I noticed the death/kill/bomb machine was making that hollow sound I sometimes make when I’m in the grocery store and I’m hungry but don’t know what I want to eat. When I looked over I realize it had mutated into this weird new shape under all the baby blood. There was a strange tattoo on the middle of the device. The tattoo said “ISIS.” I began to yell and point, but the device did not kill itself. Instead, it just laughed and until the tattoo fell off. The noises I was making were a cross between choking and murmuring. The death/kill/bomb machine continued killing babies. It did not stop until all the babies were a pile of babies/shits/bloods/kills/deaths/bombs.