Before any of these questions could be answered I was violently flung out of the previous tunnel of light and forcefully thrown into yet another unknown plane of existence.
[Welcome to the Endless Grasslands]
Had I missed the memo, the one which made it mandatory to send naked men flying through the sky at Mach 5? Or why else would I currently be closing in on the ground at rapid speeds?
This place, as the name suggested, offered a beautiful view full of luscious grass, however, I had not much time to enjoy the sight. Flora and fauna were nice and all, but not when you are sky-diving without a parachute.
I braced for impact and involuntarily used my face as an impromptu cushion to guarantee a very soft landing.
The landing had as much grace as a nude singer swinging on a wrecking ball.
But luck was on my side, after breaking my necks in more ways than physically and anatomically possible, I came to realize that I could not die. It did still hurt like a bitch though.
I tried my best to walk it off, but somehow the entire world had been turned on its head. Now the sky was the ground, while the grass was towering above me. It was a nice visual effect, but I wondered what purpose it had.
[You Died]
Reading this message made me realize that nothing was wrong with the world itself. My neck was just in a rather unhealthy position. I fell over and confirmed that the grass was indeed green by giving it a very close look.
This marked my third death and the first one not related to nuts in any shape or form. Truth be told, I did not know how to feel about it.
On the one hand, I was happy to be able to open my eyes again with my head 'fixed', but on the other hand, It was slightly concerning that I quietly entered my after-after-after-afterlife without knowing the reason for my inability to stay dead.
Sooner or later I would lose count of how many times I lost my life. Even Deez Nuts would someday become trivial and would be reduced to just one of the many stupid ways I caused my own demise.
Looking at the beautiful landscape, full of blooming flowers, brought me a little bit of consolation. Should I ever be curious about how it felt to be buried alive, I would have one fancy-ass grave.
Yet, the peaceful serenity only lasted a few seconds before a gigantic, translucent screen ruined the bright, blue sky. It hosted a stream of different, strange logos before the picture stopped at my sleeping clothed self.
This lifestream offered sound, but I did not need an ASMR session with my own loveable voice of all things. The deep breathing gave me the creeps.
Watching myself sleep, after dying numerous times, was not among the things I had expected. It was more than weird to spectate someone that looks just like you, scratching his butt in a close-up.
Look, loving yourself was very important, but all I felt was pure jealousy. To reiterate, I was still naked and that motherfucker had clothes. I would do unspeakable things to get those.
Overcome by anger, I threw punches and kicks into the air, much like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
[Strengh raised by 0.000000001]
Okay, now even my system was trying to screw with me. First of all, what merit has a system in this godforsaken place? Incapable of dying there was no use in increasing my strength. Second of all, what the hell are those many zeroes?
How many punches do you expect me to throw just to increase my strength by one measly point? And all I got for my entertainment was a lifestream of myself sleeping?
Which sadistic fuck came up with that idea?
He or she needed Jesus.
Before anyone out there decided to call me a bitch for complaining that much, feel free to swap with me. Be my fucking guest. I would even leave you my enormous manhood─does this not sound like a sweet deal?
In exchange, just give me some clothes and the dignity that I had lost here. No? How strange that no sane person would take this kind of wonderful deal. Seems like it would just be naked me and clothed me.
Best buddies for all of eternity. Forever and ever and ever and ever. That was a really fucking long time.
My chances of staying sane were slim at best. Oh look, my other self just turned around to sleep on the other side. What a plot twist, it caused me to feel things I never did before. Who could have seen that coming?
I gasped audibly, would he turn around again? In sheer anticipation, I began to twiddle my thumbs and hum a lullaby for me to fall asleep to.
Maybe this nightmare could come to an end if I were to simply close my eyes and take a little nap. One could dream, but reality cared little about the dreamer. This reality gave me the middle finger and told me to "Suck it".
No penis could ever be as hard as life. I learned that the hard way.
Fate was not there to play around and it did not bring any lube with it.
But all I got for bending over was a handful of nuts and a metaphorical kick in the balls. And, unlike my brother, I was not into that kind of stuff. I solely wanted someone to love.
Where was my sadistic, crazy girlfriend when I needed her the most?
However, in this timelessness, I would never be able to find the one thing I wished for. She would forever be nothing more than a product of my imagination.
The more I thought about this whole mess, the more depressing it became. But for more exciting news, my other self had turned around again. I was shook.
For real though, there has to be more to this mess than watching the dude there sleeping like a baby, right? Cuz right now, I might as well be watching paint dry or enjoy another compilation of me taking a shit.
This lifestream offered sound, yet I did not need an ASMR session with my own loveable voice of all things.
Both of those offered more entertainment value than the sight of a 27-year-old turning around in his sleep. All the while his snoring sounded like the death throes of roadkill. Surprisingly, it was just like the noises my father produced when he was going to town on my Mom.
I remember these sounds all too well, whenever they had brought me to bed. They gave me a good night's kiss, then they themselves decided to have a good night. After they believed me to have fallen asleep, they began to orchestrate their unholy, fleshy symphony of moans and groans.
Spoiler, I was very much not asleep. It was not hard to stay awake with the melody of childhood trauma playing softly in the background.
The audible love story of freaks in the sheets lived rent-free in my head. It hurt to know, that this might have been my origin story as well.
Being a lovechild did lose a bit of its glory when all the love was placed on the prospect of fucking each other's brains out. Whereas the child part was often caused by a malfunction of the contraceptives or more commonly known as broken condom syndrome.
The leading cause of unwanted pregnancies since the invention of alcohol.
My snoring gave me Vietnam flashbacks, severe PTSD, a lifelong need for therapy and unrealistic standards in regard to how long a man can hold his erection for. They lasted for several hours... hours.
He had surpassed the limitations of human flesh.
Dude was an ass through and through, but as a lover, he was a god among men. In the presence of such greatness, I was not deserving of getting even a wink of sleep.
He always claimed that the secret to a long-lasting relationship lay in a working tongue. For the longest of time, I thought he meant being well-spoken...
However, my father and his broken English were testament to the contrary.
His tongue was wielding a different kind of magic.
Of course, remaining humble with that level of technique was impossible. It was necessary to make obscene gestures to your partner to showcase your prowess=the mental traumata was free of charge.
Making him, in the most literal sense of the word, a motherfucker. It was a wonder in itself that I was somewhat sane.
Going on such a long rant about the sexual history of your parents was not the best proof for said sanity, but I needed to vent the frustration I had been building up since arriving in the afterlife. There was only so much I could take. I was at the point where even my bad puns and wordplay could not lift my spirit anymore.
How could I find any motivation to do anything, when nothing holds any true value? I was not trying to go all full philosophical here, but do I look like someone that can mindlessly punch things for aeons without going insane?
At least, gimme something to look forward to. How about letting the dude behind the screen come to me, once he inadvertently dies in a very stupid fashion?
Does this not sound like a fair deal? After all, every human desires companionship and beating the living shit out of yourself could be a very therapeutic method to regain my inner peace.
But wait, the advantages do not stop there, once I am busy with myself you would no longer have to listen to my annoying monologues since I would have found a way to pass the time. Did this not sound like paradise?
This sales patch of mine might seem like I was getting desperate, which I admittedly was, yet the arrival of the blind old man meant that it was now or never.
"Hey, old blind man will ya grant me that one wish? I am certain you owe me, at least that much."
The old man simply sighed heavily and nodded. Neither of us realized that the next thing he was about to do would make things even worse for either of us.
[Your wish has been granted]
Because he fulfilled what I wished for; not what I wanted. In time, I came to know the difference between the two. Because soon I would have more friends than I ever could have wished for.
But for now, I was just punching the air to prepare a warm welcome. See, it was so easy to gain motivation. Every punch was accompanied by a rush of dopamine and a loud scream."Dear Joe Nr II am coming for you"
The old man silently watched from the side before wordlessly disappearing into the aether... He was too old for this shit.