Free short stories about Generation End

A MAN IN A SUIT, RIDING A GIANT BANANA

a man in a suit riding a giant banana

SUPER POWER MEDITATION

 

People try all sorts of things to get rid of their woes. Sometimes they try alcohol, sometimes they try meditation.

“The worst form of meditation is masturbation meditation,” Jude told me. “You think that when you masturbate, you’ll be in a constant state of bliss, but you won’t be. Firstly you’ll always want to change the video you’re watching, so you’ll always be dissatisfied and wanting to find something better. Secondly you have this fear of getting caught by someone you respect or are related to. Thirdly when you come three hours later you’ll just feel like a fucking loser creep who has to clean up the mess he made and may get in trouble for the fucked up website he just visited. Lastly you’ll want to do this miserable act over and over again.”

“My meditation comes from the rosary,” Christie told me. “I reflect on life with it. Have you heard of adoration? There’s a place on the valley I go to on some Friday evenings and I sit there, and I absorb the peace of everything around me. You have to join me.”

The first time I tried meditation was during high school. They took us to this Buddhist temple and the monk told us to cross our legs and think of the colours of the rainbow. I sat there, thinking of a wall of red, then orange, then yellow, wondering why monks had to shave their heads.

I was much older when I tried meditation again. I had a broken heart, and I watched a YouTube video by some guy who talked about mindfulness. I then went to this free talk about Transcendental Meditation and they asked for fifteen hundred dollars and I tried to negotiate it down to thirty dollars but it didn’t work. I settled with Streamline Meditation.

I’ve heard that billionaires meditate, that athletes meditate, that supernatural things happen during meditation. People have generated electricity through meditation. People have pulled cars with their dicks through meditation. People have levitated through meditation. People have been cured of diseases through meditation. People who have seen the face of Jesus through meditation.

I have big dreams when it comes to my meditation. Before I meditate I tell myself that when I open my eyes, I’ll be able to fly. That I’d be able to pick up a mountain with one hand and spin it around with the other, that my testicles will be able to sing songs backwards, that my bank account will legally have thirty-eight million dollars in it, that I will calm down, that I will be able to produce unbelievably powerful erections, that I’d be able to say goodbye, that I’d be able to say no without feeling guilty, that I’d be able to be generous, selfless; that I’d be able to perform miracles, that I’d be the bringer of world peace, that I’d invent teleportation, that I’d shed my skin to reveal the most amazing person in the universe.

 

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Book I’m reading: The Pleasures of the Damned

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BILLY BILLY BILLY

billy cant read

ROY’S VICE

roy cant stop hating poor people

FINDING THE PERFECT PEOPLE

finding the perfect people

“There aren’t many perfect people in this world.” This is what she said as she had some wine.

“What do you consider as perfect?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Tall.”

“Tall?” I inspected the bottle of wine that stood between us. I ran my finger around the label. “How tall?”

“Seven foot.”

“Seven feet tall?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” I said, putting the bottle back down. “What else makes a person perfect?”

“Wings.”

“Fluffy wings?”

She looked up for a moment and considered this question. “They can be fluffy after showering. But generally, they’re long and elegant and they droop like teardrops. They can come in different colours, too. Like green or orange. Sometimes white.”

“This is bullshit,” I said. “I’ve never seen seven foot tall people with wings.”

“They exist, and they’re perfect.”

“Where the hell have you seen these people?”

“Ipswich.”

“Ipswich? Fuck that.”

She smiled, letting the silence consume us both.

 

 

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Book I’m reading: I Can’t Make This Up

KEVIN THE CRUSTY SOCK

Every teenager’s best friend and slave.

 

drawing of kevin the crusty sock

A SKETCH OF RYAN GOSLING

a sketch of ryan gosling

BILLY OH BILLY

poor life choices - drawing

THE LONELINESS

grey square - the loneliness

My loneliness can be an unforgiving piece of shit sometimes. I don’t want it to be there, but it lures me out when I don’t want to come out. It kisses me with its sour breath and proceeds straight to my heart, and it lingers there, and it gets comfortable there, and it calls it home and refuses to leave.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I sobbed to Christie over the phone.

“Aren’t I enough?”

“Sometimes I can’t hear your voice.”

Eventually, to my great relief, the loneliness leaves, and I drive my car and I play my guitar and I dance around like a monkey. But then it arrives again. It knocks on my door, and I stupidly open it, and I say, “Can’t you see that I have guests?” but then it kisses me anyway, and it makes itself at home anyway.

 

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Book I’m still reading: Men Without Women

I MET HANNAH AT A SOCIAL GATHERING

I met Hannah at a social gathering

Hannah momentarily entered my life while Christie and I were not in good terms. I met her at a social gathering.

“You know I researched scientology for an assignment once,” I told her. “I wanted to be like one of those clever types who make fun of odd belief systems. So I went to one of their presentations so that I could report all about all the weird ways they would try to brainwash or recruit me. But you know what? Nothing happened afterwards. I was really disappointed. They read a few passages from a book and that’s it.”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?” Hannah asked me, picking up her phone.

I shrugged. “They didn’t give me a personality quiz, they didn’t give me a follow up call. Not even an email to at least hint that I should join them. So I started thinking, ‘Am I ugly? Could they tell I was poor? Why wasn’t I good enough?’”

Hannah didn’t reply – she was too busy texting.

So I continued: “How about you? Did they recruit you?”

She scowled and laughed at me. “I’m a scientist. Not a scientologist.” Still laughing, she looked back at her phone. “Oh my gosh I have to tell my boyfriend this.”

“Fuck you,” I said with a smile before looking for some free food.

 

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Show I’m still watching: The Young Pope