Another five-minute Sunday poem


you have five minutes (to set up a government)

The only difference between me and the worst person on earth, is the number of things we’ve killed. His is like 4503038, but each one came with about 12000 more or something, because that’s how it happens, so it’s really in the healthy billions probably. Whereas I have killed none that I know of, and only maybe a few hundred thousand if you count incidentals. I don’t know this man, I don’t personally know the worst person on earth, but for some reason that I can’t seem to figure out, he thinks I’m someone who saved his life, so he follows me around, trying to be my slave, even when I completely ignore him, even when I plead for him to go away, when I’m on a date or even if I’m on the toilet, even when I am off sunbathing in Maui and told nobody, he knows and he won’t go away. Tomorrow I have to get a restraining order. I don’t have anything against him, he’s even kind of okay, but it’s too much, it’s just obnoxious as hell sometimes. I feel bad but what can you do.

So. That entry above was from a few years ago. The worst person on earth has since been entered into the record books, can you believe it! Well, I bought the book because that used to be a hobby of mine, as a kid, flipping through the record book pages, and I looked him up, because I knew it would be him, the man who had once followed me for months upon months. And. It was. Confirmation confirmed. But then… I saw his birth name and I realized who he really was. There was no denying it, I even tried to smear the ink to see if it was some prank set up just for me, but it was undeniable. I realized who he really was. And there is no name for it.