OUT
Let me re-introduce myself. Hi! I’m Luyanda Mbatha. A writer and an occasional content creater--usually in the afternoon. I live in South Africa. I’m a South African by birth. A Nowherean politically. A Closed off-and-cold-ass-motherfucker emotionally. A Total-insane intelligently. A bug physically, and usually a sloth in the summertime.
The purpose of this article is to let you know that my incredible short story is out, and you can find it on Amazon here:
Click on that link after you have finished reading this article.
One thing that is unfortunate about my life and one that I find to be the greatest and fattest obstacle in my way up is that my mom gave birth to me very late. Like seriously, the things I try to insert myself into are blocking me because of my ....age. Wait...is it really age? Yes it's my fucking age and normalcy--when I say normalcy I actually mean indifference and conventional intelligence.
Is there anyone out there who feel the same? Yes, of course, there is. Thank you, I feel a bit relieved that I’m not the only one. In fact, there are a assload of us out there who do. But is there anyone who is willing to say, "Fuck!" and go the opposite way? Only a few.
So my mom brought me in this fucking world at a very late time. I should’ve arrived in the 20s or at least 30s before the buzz and outbreak of the internet that is now becoming addictive to me. I should’ve been pulled up in the middle of the 20s with my stinking nappies and sufffering from breast milk addiction with the preference of growing up to fight World Wars I didn’t start with people I don’t even know to protect the nation that wasn’t mine and then die there in the battlefield or in the early 2000s. Or I would’ve developed psychological issues whilst touring around the world on a wheelchair with nice badges in my coat to deliver dull speeches in mass conferences about serving in foreign countries as a brave, stupid veteran. And sadly, being unable to satisfy my beautiful and tenderhearted spouse.
I don't mean to say that all veterans are stupid, but it's evident that a brave person tends to be stupid--the probability of a brave asshole for being stupid is higher. Very much high. If all veterans are brave, then some of them are stupid. And if some of them are stupid, then not all of them are brave.
But let's quickly forget about the veteran thing, okay? OK. If my mom delivered me on this planet in the early 20s (not in the mid-20s), I would've been a different person, doing different things, having different dreams, different thoughts, beliefs, religion, views, sexual attractions, and perhaps, a different mom! Hell, that's crazy, isn't it. Oh! It would've been crazy, wouldn't it?
Being born in the early 20s would've been a tough time yet unboring one in my life, I would be training for a next week swimming competition with a spherical coach with glasses behind me shouting these positive concepts of Focus, Push Harder, Goal Oriented, Determination, Swim Harder and be the Best etcetera.
Or, I would've been doing a different shit. Maybe I would've been a proud employee in factories making steel and copper or climbing a corporate ladder in a well-known, feared building located in the belly button of the city somewhere on this planet. I would've been punishing myself to death to work harder and earn a big salary to gain recognition and respect from my fellow coworkers and send my kids to elite schools to be drilled information in their little heads while receiving full indoctrination.
It would've been the greatest times of the era. Who knows? But my mom gave birth to me in the 21st century. Where's my father? Shit, I don't know him. I don't who the fuck he is but all I know is that he's dead. Literally. Yeah, it sucks. And it hurts. A bit.
My father took too long to meet my mother so they could make me because I wanted to be born in the 20s. But it's fine. Some will say it's God's plan. Really? I don't think so. God is a nice guy, right? He wouldn't make such a dumb plan. If it's really His plan, well, my sorries are sincere, and please tell Him to forgive me because I'm about to say this: His plan sucks. If I talk about God like this, I'd be rapidly sent to rot in hell, right? Then don't preach to me about how good and genius God is.
It took this guy too long! To hell with him. I'm sure he's spinning in the grave right now, amazed at how his favorite son talks about him like that on the internet and then publishing such bullshit articles about his name. Look, just because he's my father doesn't mean he's holy and perfect. And he wasn't supposed to be perfect because if he was, he wouldn't be my father. He would be someone else's father. Haha.
Look, both my parents were good parents in some way. I have no beef against them. It's just that...never mind.
As I'm growing up, I have so many tasks to attend to on occasion. I mean biological tasks. This is a forever job. As I get older, my nails need most of my time and attention to be cut. Then my hair, argh! My hair is like a recently born baby because it needs constant attention. I have to cut it, too. Next week, probably, I'd be cutting my hair. Then, my balls and below my nutsack, there grew some some hairs I never imagined I would ever have. When I try to inspect them by looking them in the mirror, of course, I spread my knees apart to scrutinize these strange hairs. When I pull them off, they hurt so much. I scream loudly in the room alone. One thing I've noticed about them is that they are kinda grey and thick but short.
So this is what people don't talk about. This is a kind of crisis we have to face forever. People are busy inventing AIs that will do all the work for us at the fastest rate, but no one is inventing an AI that will shave our nutsacks, armpits, and assholes. I can handle my nails alone, you know, that'snot a big deal. But shaving really takes more energy, time, and patience, so you won't end up shaving badly and hurting yourself and scream, or sob. Where is the AI that will be responsible for and serve us for our furry asses?
Anyways, this shows that one has to consistently buy brand new expensive Gillettes and hair-removal creams to fight this big, hidden war for our entire goddamn lives. Perhaps this is a biological test for us to show how often we take care of our bodies. Nature should reinvent a new one, though--this one is tiring. Anyone who got an email for Mother Nature? I want to compose an email right away and send it straight to Mother Nature, requesting biological tasks.
OK, get my short story and leave your best reviews for other readers. This short story is about an old man. Find out what exactly is going on with this old man.
