The Remainders

The Remainders



        We are the remainders.  I refer to us as a whole, though I am different from the rest.  I am a remainder, true, but with a goal different from the rest.  Not to survive (that’s more of a hobby), but to mop up what’s left of us.  Not long, or very long, ago the slate was fucked.  Not swept.  Sweeping would be too clean.  No.  The slate was fucked.  And now we’re left.  But I’m trying to fix that.  We are nothing.  And to try and remain is nothing.  The lucky ones died in the beginning.  Immediately.  The unlucky ones suffered long and hard.  And then died.  The smart ones killed themselves.  This is no place to live.  But then again it never was.  And now only the dumb and I remain.  The dumb.  Because only the dumb try to survive when death is inevitable, but wasn’t it always?  And not until now do I realize it.  And so I travel place to place, cleaning up the remainder.  The remainder of the human population.  Fuck animals (like dogs and shit).  They’re mostly fucking dead anyway.  I don’t give a shit about the ones still around.  They had this planet to begin with.  We fucked it up for them, and now they can have it back in a more fucked up condition than ever before.  It’s the people I want.  The life I lust to end.  Maybe I was a killer before, but without an excuse to kill.  Now I have it.  To clean it up.  To wipe the asshole of humanity.  Maybe that’s a shitty excuse.  In that case then I’m gonna kill them because, y’know, who gives a fuck?  I don’t.  It’s not exactly fun.  There’s a rush of excitement, and then a kind of release.  Like you just want to curl up with that beautiful red corpse and hold it close until the blood goes cold.  Of course I’ve done that.  But it’s not fun.  It’s a wonderful sadness.  How does one decide if an emotion is considered positive or not?  Happiness is overrated.  I adapted.  Maybe in the material world of yesteryear happiness was easier to come by.  Now we have sadness, and so I thrive off that.  It’s the other ones, the dumb ones, the ones who would actually be afraid to die, there the ones still searching for happiness in a world without it.  But besides the joyous sadness, there’s also the glorious violence.  The beautiful, unmerciless anger.  One cannot comprehend the unfathomable joy (or hate or anger or sadness) of repeatedly stabbing a man in the back as he’s slouched over a table.  Or to strangle a woman to death with your bare hands as she stares back.  Her eyes growing wider.  Redder.  Bulging.  They water.  And for that time you and her are bonded.  In love.  You are the most important people in one another’s life.  And then she stops fighting and her eyes recede from their outward position and you feel that release.  That sweet spiritual release.  I’d put it on the same level as sex and food.  But it’s still different from both, just as both are different from each other.  You have them and enjoy them.  “I just had AMAZING sex” or “That strudel was SO fucking good” or “I just killed someone and it felt SO good”.  Only less intense.  But still pleasurable.  You know what?  Fuck trying to explain what it feels like to kill someone.  Let’s leave it at “good”, shall we?  Try to explain how good that pizza was, huh?  Difficult.  Only things like “good” or “great” come out, huh?  No words can truly describe the pleasures of GREAT fucking food.  And that’s the same as killing.  It’s a pleasure and an adverb unto itself.  But fuck is it good.  Great.  Though if I may stray from murder and stay on food....  Where’s all the good fucking food after the apocalypse?  Huh?  Everything’s canned.  Not terrible.  But no delicacy.  Of course I’ve tested the old cannibalism out for size.  That’s something special.  To literally eat a woman’s ass is nice.  Sickening thought I know, but it’s best you remember the world (or remnants of) that I live in.  There’s fucking shitty corpses everywhere.  I’m filled with this violent lust like no other.  It’s like before shit got fucked up, only now you get to fuck the chick and THEN prepare the meal.  Not the other way around.  Oh, and also she IS the meal.  So that’s something new.  Whatever.  I don’t lose sleep.  I’m not some soccer player in the Andes eating my fallen teammates for necessity.  No.  I’m just a fucking nut eating girls asses because the butcher shops gone as rotten as the butcher, still clenching his cleaver the way he was when the bomb dropped.  Shit.  Have I mentioned the bomb?  I’m rambling here so forgive me if I miss a few key points.  So yeah.  North Korea dropped a fucking bomb.  Boom.  Bye bye world.  So they pretty much won.  Or lost.  I dunno what’s going on with those slant eyed fucks anyway.  Oh, sorry.  Is that a bit racist?  Well, yeah.  I’ve become a bit of a racist.  It goes with the whole joy of hate thing.  There’s beating a guy to death with a bat and there’s beating a fucking nigger to death with a bat.  Feel the hate in the second one?  Yeah.  Me too.  I thrive on that.  Fucking smug pricks.  Not just the niggers.  Just all of ‘em.  The fucking remainders.  Fuck I hate ‘em.  And I know technically I’m one of ‘em.  Hypocrite much?  Yeah, well I hated humans before, and I’m one of them too.  And who gives a fuck about hypocrisy now anyway, right?  Fuck it.  Fuck it all.  No one fights anymore.  Maybe they’re smarter.  More willing to accept the fact that they want to die.  If people didn’t want to die, their bodies wouldn’t let themselves die, right?  It’s a deep subconscious thing.  Only now I think people are kinda getting in, y’know?  Or maybe they’re just too weak to fight.  Too fucking tired.  But I guess that “too tired” goes with the wanting to die thing.  Fuck it.  I know I do.  Wanted to before, too.  There was serious dissa-fucking-pointment when I woke up to find all those fucking corpses, and me not among their ranks.  So rather than taking the smart route of offing myself, I took the psycho route of fucking shit up.  Just fucking them all.  I’ve become so cold.  And that’s not literally.  I have a coat.  I mean, I take extra pride in killing the weak and elderly.  Not that seniors are too common these days.  Now it’s just the young and lucky.  Shit, did I say lucky?  Wasn’t I just saying the ones who died were lucky?  Now apparently so are the ones still alive.  Fuck it.  That’s just my hypocrisy fucking up again.  My mouth has become filthy too.  Spouting profanity as you literally tear a mother fucker’s heart out.  That’s good.  Great even.  “Fuck you, you fucking asshole piece of fucking shit.  I’m gonna fucking rape your filthy fucking shitty corpse and I’m gonna rip your fucking head off you fucking....” etc.  The thing about raping corpses is bullshit though.  You can’t rape a corpse.  I look at it more as molesting.  I’m more into rape though.  Violent and shit.  Who cares if you’re mentally (and physically) scarring them, when they’re gonna be dead in ten minutes anyway?  Fuck ‘em.  Right?  But, shit, I still find laughter.  I know, I know.  “Nothing left to be happy about” or whatever the fuck I said.  Well I also said “fuck hypocrisy”.  And fuck do I laugh.  The jokes and stories I come up with.  I can go weeks without seeing any mother fuckers.  Humanity’s gone, remember?  We are the remainders, remember?  There’s not much left.  Could that be a direct result of my work?  Well shit I’ve killed a lot of ‘em.  Hundreds I think.  Shit.  I should’ve kept count.  The first bunch of times I kept count.  “I just killed my third person!  Alright!”.  But somewhere I lost track.  Fuck it.  When I’m dead it won’t matter.  I don’t believe in heaven.  Obviously.  Boy would I be fucked otherwise, huh?  Fuck it.  I’m already in hell.  But hell wouldn’t be like this.  Hell is supposed to be bad.  I’m not so sure this murderous and barren landscape is so bad.  Not for me.  And in your head there’s only you right?  Fuck what other people are thinking or feeling, right?  Selfish, I know.  Fuck it.  Maybe there is only me.  Maybe everyone are just robots, fucking with me.  What if this is a big experiment, and I’m hooked up to a machine dreaming this?  What if when I die, I wake up and face the consequences of my dreamt up actions?  But these theories only serve to amuse myself.  I am CERTAIN that heaven doesn’t exist, and that nothing awaits me on the other side.  Life is a side effect of existence.  We exist, therefore we live.  Existence, not life, is the alpha and omega.  The beginning and end.  Shit doesn’t end at death, it ends with existence.  Genius stuff, really.  But bullshit all the same.  I philosophize and then I kill.  Flip tape over to side b and repeat.  Fuck it.  I’ve lived, killed, raped and eaten some of the finest ass this disgusting world has to offer.  They’re dead.  They’re all dead.  Even if they’re living now, they’ll be dead soon enough.  Like keeping count, my goal is pointless.  Even if they’re not dead it’s pointless.  Fuck it.  Life is pointless.  Shit.  I sound like some fuckin emo kid.  Sadly never got to kill one of ‘em.  I reckon they just offed themselves.  And now, as the tide turns, it seems so will I.  Fuck it.  Goodbye world.  Goodbye life.  All in all I had a good run.  Let’s see what death has to offer.  Sex, food, murder.......and suicide?  We’ll see.  Who knows?  It could turn out to be good.  Great even.....