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Published March 07, 2010

 

A Cockwork Orange

Or

 1980 Bore

By, Me

 

 

“And to my fellow Americans, I say unto you…” And then I flipped off the godforsaken television. I hate politics; they give me a nervous tick. 

 

I have a name. I would tell you but you would never believe me – at least not yet. I killed my family today, murdered them in cold blood…well actually, the blood was rather warm so I’m not sure what that phrase insinuates? I used to be the President of these United States of America, I was the last one as a matter-of-fact; after me the states became divided and then they fought for supremacy. Of course Texas won most of the south with the exception of New Orleans, Louisiana – those fuckers can fight. So how was the west won you say? Washington managed a pretty swift victory there and as for the east, a surprising victor came out on top: Connecticut. No shit. Alaska was absorbed into Canada and Hawaii was sunk. This always makes me chuckle. So the greatest continental superpower was defeated by none other than itself. America became Textonia, Washland, and Connecticut (Co-neck-tit-cut…creative ehh? Haha). New Orleans was eventually sucked under the water where God (the guy) had intended it to be seeing as how is was already below sea level.

I suppose I should have done a better job as president but that’s hard to do when you’re constantly stoned. Hell, I’m high as a fucking kite right now while I tell you this story. I’m getting blood all over the goddamn SpeakWrite too; fucking kids make a mess even in death. Haha. I know I shouldn’t laugh at that but as soon as this letter is finished I will write the apologetic one. I don’t really want the death penalty. I suppose I shouldn’t have chosen to live in Textonia, but that’s really neither here nor there – well then where is it? I suppose I don’t really understand that phrase either. God never willed me to have this knowledge I guess.

Something to clarify: God is not God as you may know “Him”. God is just another word for the mind now, unless otherwise specified. Glad we got that all cleared up now.

“BILL?! What the states are you doing here?” (The term “states” is used more like when one might say “hell” as in, “what the hell” or “go to hell.” This is because it is many people’s belief that the current state of the union, as it were, is in a far better…state?)

“Rosie is that you? You fat bitch! How are you?” That was my reply.

“Oh Billy boy I can’t believe you, did you kill your family again? Goddamn you, you know how hard of a time the programmers have making families, especially for your twisted ass.”

Something else to clarify: I am a sad, lonely, impotent, man. These are not qualities of a figure-head of the state so a secret community that actually runs things (and have been for the last some-thousand years) created me a fictional family. I was only joshing about that not-wanting-the-death-penalty thing, only I have never actually known anyone named Josh and even if I had I can see no reason why he would have any bearing on this current topic? Another meaningless term to me I suppose. Glad we got that cleared up.

“Eh shut it Rosie O. Hey, where’s Suzy Q? Haha.”

“Oh funny Billy boy never heard you say that one before…let’s get this mess cleaned up, how ‘bout it?”

“KKK!”

“You know most blacks don’t like to make jokes referring to the KKK?”

“Yeah but you said it, I’m twisted.” I grinned at her after that retort.

We cleaned the mess and sat down on the couch to continue conversing.

“So who are you speaking the message for? You know your SpeakWrites still on Billy boy?”

“Yeah Rose I’m just speaking my short biography. Wanna help?”

“KKK.” She smiled.

I wiped the last bit of blood from the SpeakWrite and sat down next to Rosie. She looked at me for a moment, her eyes kind of looked like they wanted to kill me, but I’m just paranoid. “It’s a good thing my ThinkWrite is on in the other room – that’s what is writing down this whole story but Rosie can’t see the little ear buds I have on, reading my thoughts. And then I say, “So what should I say to these fuckers, Rosie?”

“Well, first off, I wouldn’t call them ‘fuckers’ if you’re wanting this thing to sell,” she chuckled, “and secondly what have you already told ‘em?”

“I told them about how I was the last President and about how America has been divided up. And this thing doesn’t need to sell…I’m sending it to the past.”

“WHAT? Are you fucking insane? Do you have any clue what the programmers will do when they hear about this? My ass is grass now too Bill, thanks a lot, asshole!”

“If…”

 

“NOOOO I don’t wanna kill him. Damn. I’m hungry. I’m gonna get a donut after this.”

 

“If what Bill? Don’t get all nonsensical on me now.”

“If…the programmers find out. I’m sending this back to 2009. They never check back that far anymore, seeing as how we are the only two left from around that era. Well three if you count Pac.” 

 

“I wonder if they are still delivering pizza at this time of the night…I hope I don’t take to long with this offing. I NEED some fucking food.”

 

Something else I need to clarify: I am nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine years old. I was born July 12, 1937. Today’s date is July 11, 2937. I have lived this long because I am a Program, created for the soul purpose of balance. I have a uniqueness about me that keeps this fictional universe alive. So does Rosie. So does Pac – yes he is still alive. A Program is usually deleted on its one-thousandth year after its creation.

“Excuse me Rose, I’ve got to leak my little.”

Really I just wanted to make sure that my ThinkWrite is still running. It is, and then some? Rosie must have her ear buds in too! They must have sent her. Those fucking tricky Programmers! I bet they weren’t expecting a mishap like this – it seems as though her ThinkWrite signal has gotten crossed with mine. She doesn’t want to kill me but she knows that she must in order to save this life.

Well, before she does there are a few quick items I must list before I send this back in time:

 

The United States of America fell due to the Programmer’s assumption that our country was propelling to much power. They must be stopped from doing this. The lead Programmer, and smartest man in this infinite universe, is Keanu Reeves. Kill him and preserve our union. Warning: He is HIGHLY dangerous and extremely volatile. Proceed with caution and strike without hesitation.

My name is William Henry Cosby, Jr., better known by my informal name, Bill Cosby. The woman whose thoughts were crossed on my ThinkWrite is Rosie O’Donnell, she is also a Program. I think that her uniqueness might be more of a physical necessity, like to keep the Earth spinning with her own gravitational pull. Fat-ass. She and I have a common bond seeing as how we are both Programs from around the same time period. There is no need to destroy her. After the destruction of the lead Programmer all Programs will be instantaneously deleted.

Lastly, to whoever may be burdened by this request please except my deepest of apologies, but you must NEVER attempt to seek me out in your present time; I am still a fully functioning Program and will possibly destroy you if you bring this to my attention.

 

Thank you and may your god be wise in all of its processes. I am truly sorry that I cannot be of more help. You must do all that is within your power to fulfill this request no matter how outlandish or lofty it may sound. You must.

 

Yours truly,

William Henry Cosby, Jr.

 

P.S.

You must stab Keanu Reeves EXACTLY where you would imagine his brain would be - you must stab him precisely in his anus.

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