Parasite

—That you missed the "spoiled".

—What spoiled?

—I said, "Why do you always act like a spoiled child?" and you said, "Why do you always act like a child?"

—Of course, the "spoiled" was irrelevant, it's called overwriting.

—But I'm not writing, I'm thinking. That's it, is this thinking or talking?

—Good question, let's philosophize. Thinking implies that it's you talking to yourself, conversation implies someone else. Am I someone else?

—You can talk to yourself, sometimes people talk to themselves.

—But you're not talking, I don't see you moving your lips except to drink beer. By the way, drink it before it warms up. And do yourself a favor and ask for another.

—Not yet, let's go outside and smoke. And you can't see, you don't have eyes as far as I know.

—I use yours, didn't you know? Finally a good idea, I need nicotine.

—What? Wait, repeat that. Do you use my eyes?

—I don't really use your eyes... I see what you see, but you control them like the rest of your body. But I'm here, I see and feel everything you experience. You know? It's desperate, imagine waking up and your body doing things without you being able to control it. Imagine that one day you wake up in the body of a fatty woman of one hundred kilos and you can't do anything.

—I'm not a hundred kilos woman.

—And you don't know how much I appreciate it, please don't ever get fat.

—I don't think you'll ever leave me, when I eat a hamburger you start to annoy.

—I'm taking care of you, you know, the fat, the cholesterol. You don't want to die of a heart attack. Speaking of which, you should go to the gym.

—Don't start again! By the way, why the trauma with the fat?

—Because I was on a 100-pound fatty for six months. You don't know how bad it feels not to be able to walk and smoke at the same time. To be seen with disgust in the street. I don't even want to remember, at least I made her commit suicide.

—Hey, don't you think you went too far? Besides, if your host commit suicide, don't you die too?

—No, not at all. Some thought it before her, if my host commit suicide it's uncomfortable and painful for me, but in the end I end up finding a way to survive. But to be honest, I'd rather die than spend more time in that chubby one. It was depressing. And I didn't go too far, I made her and the world a favor.

—Yes, of course, you and your favors to the world. Let's make a deal, if you leave me alone I promise not to get fat, okay?

—Don't try to manipulate me.

—It's what you always do. Manipulate, blackmail, try to force me to do stupid things just for fun.

—And what do you expect me to do? I mean, put yourself in my shoes, I can't do anything other than talk to you, it's normal that after so many years I get bored; in fact I've experienced practically all human experience and to be honest life gets boring after a while. Decades, who knows if centuries eating, drinking, shitting, sleeping, having monotonous sex, working. It's boring. Things become routine, boredom kills. That's why I insist you to kill.

—Stop that. I won't do it.

—But it's fun!

—How do you know? Have you?

—No, but I imagine it must be fun.

—Wait a second, do you want me to kill just to see if it's fun?

—If you say so, it sounds very ugly.

—It's worse than ugly. We're talking about killing a human being just to know if it´s fun.

—Do you really believe that? You know that many don't deserve to live. Not you, you are just fine.

—You're right, some people deserve to die, but who am I to decide?

—Don't worry, if you get caught, you blame me, you say I forced you.

—Of course and they'll believe me. Sir, it's not my fault, the abscess in my ear made me kill him. Besides, I know you won't force me because you can't. But since we are speaking as relatively civilized beings, I thought I was the first; how long have you been here?

—I don't really know, I don't keep track of time. After a few guests I stopped counting.

—That much?

—Well, don't think I've been here since you were were cavemen, thank God. Can you imagine how stinky they must have been?

—That's not an answer.

—Hey, I told you I don't remember. But at least people bathed, not every day, but they bathed.

—And how was your first guest?

—Vincent?

—Was that his name?

—Yeah, he was ok, he painted tulips.

—Don't fuck with me, that Vincent?

—Yeah, that Vincent. Why do you think he cut off his ear?

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Posted from my blog with SteemPress : http://jcalero.vornix.blog/2018/11/12/parasite/

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