The sunlight feels warm on the exposed part of your snout which is sticking out from your housie. The warmth slowly pulls you out of your sleep, dragging you to the surface of your consiousness. Birds are chirping outside as you slowly open your eyes, stretching your leggies and crawling out of your blockie-housie.
A fresh new day.
Despite waking up like this every day, of course, it still gives you a ton of joy to look around the living room in the morning, taking in the sunlight from the big window and letting it warm up your back fluff.
Filled with energy and love for life, you take a good look around the living room and try to swat the dust particles in the sunlight with your hoof, making them swirl around like leaves in a storm. You whirl your hoof around faster and faster and you try to make a pattern by sitting down and using your other hoof as well, whirling it around in the opposite direction. The result is a disorganized mess of flying dust particles which promptly makes you giggle and you fall over backwards.
The swirling, churning miasma of dust particles, softly illuminated by the sunlight. It fills you with determination.
After getting back up, you decide to wake daddeh up so he can give you the bestest nummies and head towards the sleepy-place-room, still giggling and cooing to yourself quietly.
Daddeh always leaves the sleepy-place-room door open a crack so you can get to him. Oddly enough however, the door is opened much wider today, almost revealing the entire sleepy-place-room as you carefully step into it, looking around attentively for anything else that might be amiss. You donât find anything until you jump onto the side table next to daddehs sleepy-place to get a good look at the bed.
Daddeh isnât there.
In fact, the blanket is crumpled up, hastily thrown aside in what looks to have been a hectic frenzy to leave the sleepy-place.
Why would daddeh need to get out of his sleepy-place so fast? And why didnât he tell you? Most importantly though, where is he?
All these questions run through your mind as you try to logically put together where daddeh might be.
Has he gone to work early?
Is he sleeping on the couch again and you just missed him when you woke up?
Or, and this thought sends shivers down your spine, have you been a bad fluffy? Has daddeh abandoned you? You donât remember doing anything you werenât supposed to.
Youâre crying now, burying your face in the sleepy-place.
You always make good poopies, you always num your nummies, youâre never angry with daddeh because youâve got no reason to! So why would he leave you like this? Why would he stop loving you? Youâre thoughts start to tumble, doing somersaults and bumping into each other. Daddeh canât be gone! This canât be happening!
Your crying intensifies, merging with forced hyperventilation as your head starts to spin and you fall over onto the sleepy-place.
Suddenly, you notice something.
The area under your poopie-place fluff feels weird and⌠slimy somehow.
You turn around to investigate and there, on the pristine white sheets, your worst nightmares have just become reality and in a flash, all of the panic surrounding daddehs dissapearence vanishes, flattened by something infinitely worse, something so unbelievably, horrendously, outrageously unthinkable that you had never wanted to imagine the consequenses if it were to occur.
Youâve made bad poopies.
Youâve made bad poopies on daddehâs sleepie-place.
Time itself seems to grind to a halt as the sheer amount of trouble youâre in hits you with such force it literally makes you sick.
Images start to flood your mind of what daddeh might do.
Will he give you the sorry stick?
Will he withhold your nummies?
Will he stop letting you watch Teebee?
No, wait! He knew this was going to happen! Of course! Heâs the bestest, smartest daddeh in the whole wide forever so he mustâve known you would make bad poopies! He mustâve known it so he abandoned you!
What are you going to do now, you canât get yourself nummies!
Youâre going to go forever sleepies!
You canât stop the scaredy-poopies from coming now and you collapse onto daddehs sleepy-place, crying hysterically.
âPwease daddehâŚâ sob âPwease cum backsies⌠FwuffyâŚâ sob âFwuffy am sowwy foâ bad poopies daddeh⌠Nu mean tu make baddest poopies on daddehs sweepy-pwace⌠Onwy wan wub anâ huggies fwom daddeh⌠Fwuffy bewwy sowwy anâ pwomise neba du 'gain. Neba du bad poopies 'gainâŚâ sob âNu wan gu foweba-sweepiesâŚâ
Naturally, youâre so engrossed in your primitive panic attack that you donât notice daddeh coming into the room.
âCyanide?â
You jump and scurry into a corner of the sleepy-place.
âPwease nu be angwy daddehâŚâ
He looks at you, confused.
âAm bewwy sowwy foâ bad poopies daddehâŚâ
Daddeh sits down on his sleepy-place and buries his face in his hands. His eyes are red and slightly swollen.
âI envy youâ, he says.
âWha?â
âYou and youâre inability to see the world as anything else than love and huggies, unable to see the world for what it really is. An absolute shithole.â
Daddeh leans back against the wall.
âA shithole full of holy people. Holy, because they make holes. In our planet. You see, ever since weâve become a sapient species, weâve lost our goal in life. Weâve lost a purpose, weâve lost the meaning to life. And yet, we continue. We continue to live our self-centered, belligerent lifestyle, every idea, every invention following one goal. Comfort. Our confort. We thrive, we build, we settle, we claim and in our path, we leave a trail of wanton death and destruction. And there still isnât a purpose to life. There is no purpose, no reason why we live our lives. In fact, it makes no difference what we do because no matter our actions, no matter our efforts⌠Weâre all going to die eventually. All living things must die. Everything must go to make space for other life. Such is the circle of life. But it isnât a circle anymore is it? Thereâs no balance, no harmony, only a species filled with supremacist greed that drives them to do unspeakable things and pushes them to their eventual, certain doom. When was the last time that you saw something positive on the news? Something nice, something calm? Exactly. A long time ago. And even then, itâs a tiny speck of light in a massive ocean of negativity. Famine, Poverty, Disease⌠So many negative things plague our world and they outweigh the positive things tenfold. hundredfold. thousandfold. Even if we tried, even if we put all our efforts into saving the human race, which would not work because there would be too many upper class assholes, throwing wrenches and generally working against anything we might attempt, we would be too late to do anything to stop our own demiseâ
Daddeh now has a glassy, empty stare in his eyes as he removes his hands from his face and stares up at the ceiling.
âIt is too late for every one of usâ
THE END of Part 3
My teacher used to say that they didnât like videogames because there is no real-world material rewards attached. You play through a virtual experience and sink hours into completing it, only to gain⌠absolutely nothing. I think that concept can be applied to our lives as well. Weâre born and then we live our life until we die. What then? What comes after life? Do we get some kind of trophy, some kind of plastic golden medal for completing life? Whatâs the point in living if you can also not? Do we have to live? Do we owe it to someone? All of these questions are questions that nobody has the answer to and yet nobody thinks about. People talk about the âvalue of lifeâ, how every life, no matter how small, no matter how insignificant, is worth something. Does that also apply if that life is deliberately destroying the habitat for other life? What makes that life more important than the life that consequently doesnât get to live?
We may never know.
Yikes, that turned sad⌠sorry about that lol