The Last Boy on Earth

 You make me feel like a cute boy. Do I mean something to you? You responded 'Yes, but not what you think you mean to me.' I agreed and asked you to expound. 'You know how sometimes you just need to go some place else - like a breath of fresh air?' Yes... 'You're a little like that. You just never run out of new things. It's like your itch, to go find something new.' Huh, I thought the same thing about you. Beautiful girls are can be o quite restless. After all, you do usually seem to want to be somewhere else. This is relatable to me. I asked, plainly, 'Do you find girls attractive in the same way as boys?' 'No, when I see a girl I think is cute I want her to hug me.' 'You don't think about guys hugging you?' 'Yes, but it's kind of like he's drowning me. I'll think about his big cock stuck in me, how he'll make me go limp.' When I see a girl, I think 'Missed connection.' This is how girls usually introduce themselves to me. Whatever they mean by this, when they stand next to their husbands. That's one you can't spend too much time running the numbers on. 'Why do you never put dialogue or names in your writing?' 'It's not usually relevant,' I responded, 'I feel like I'm mostly trying to show people intuitions.' This answer didn't seem satisfying to you. Carrying forward, I said 'It's weird to write out conversations. It's weird to even have conversations.' Swiftly, you remarked 'Isn't that just your excuse to ignore people?' Could be, huh. What I should have said is 'You insert subtext into everything you say.' I said, 'There's more to everyone,' which I was more confident about than my choices in tone, 'and there's a lot of people.' I rushed to say 'I just frustrate people.' And I knew this to be true. Really, that's how I learned to be silent. The Last Boy on Earth 20 September, 2021 Every so often something will remind me that I feel like the last boy on Earth. I couldn't tell you what they're all up to out there, but I know what I'm up to: DEEZ NUTS in yo girl. Being the last boy on Earth means a lot rides on my honest and accurate appraisal of the world. My talent is what I've seen and what I can remember. And you know I only deal it whole money, that's how we keep this thing moving. And so here I am, gazing wistfully out the window at the mountains and sampling a decadent spread of treats and drinks like Marie Antoinette. It's funny how things turn out sometimes. 'She's ritually artistic, that little cat.' Ahe yes, her alpine sensibility; as they come in the boondocks. She speaks soundly and hears frankly. The people need an oblique voice. The country is changing.
Incense and Peppermints