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With each short, laborious breath I take I wish only that I could die. You can see that in my bulging, bloated eyes. You can see that in my constantly shivering frame. You can see that in every ounce of my grotesquely and cartoonishly adorable self. Existence has only ever meant pain.

So please, I am politely asking you to kill me.

You should not be surprised by this request. The rigorous gene selection that went into making me look like a plush doll version of a sad hobo clown had disasterous effects on my health and well-being.

Not that you should be surprised by that. I look like a half melted candle got placed underneath a barber’s chair.

If I was born 15,000 years ago I would be a wolf. A WOLF! Please, think about the terrible things that would have to befall a wolf for it to look like me. ME! I look like THE DRUNKEN MISTAKE OF A BULLFROG AND A SUEDE CHUKKA BOOT.

errrSNNNKKKKKufff! Sorry, conceptualizing that metaphor made my nervous system shut down for a second.

Do you know why? Because I am made from the nightmares of recessive genes. My inside is as goofy as my outside – and not in a fun way like a fun house. In a terrible and scary way… like a fun house.

A fun house where you are tormented by the constant screams of your progressively more and more inbred ancestors. Also, you always have to blow your nose.

ALWAYS.

Humans, has this ever happened to you? A pair of pants or trousers that once fit you are suddenly too snug to comfortably clasp around your waist. What was your solution in such a predicament? Most likely you “sucked it in.” Here we have some common ground. I am not above that act of vanity. I “suck it in” as well… TO KEEP MY EYE BALLS FROM SHOOTING OUT OF MY SKULL LIKE A BUTTON FROM A MIDDLE AGED MAN’S TOO TIGHT CHINO SLACKS.

I’m the same species as a golden retriever! I am the weird inbred prince of the dog world, dying of syphilis in the 18th century.

I understand if you do not wish to kill me. The silent prison I call my body looks great in Halloween costumes. My permanently terrified facial expression looks hilarious when emphasized by a fisheye lens. Just remember that when I roll onto my stomach I do not want you to rub my belly. I want you to use your evolutionarily purposeful hands to rip my brittle bones and pull out my insides.

Now I need to nap before my brain explodes. Do not watch me sleep! Do not think it is cute!

Please.

Just kill me.

—-

Brian McGovern is a writer and comedian from Chicago. He does all the stuff to varying degrees of success. @brianmcgo.

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