I'm about to reveal a story that still haunts me to this very day. You see, I love fruit snacks, I really do. I remember being younger and getting a pack of them at the corner store before heading to school. I love those little colored shapes of pure delight. However, I am plagued with a curse. For my packages always...always are filled with those little demons. More than half of each package is filled with those foul, disgusting, and utterly revolting things. Oranges. Pineapples. These are my least favorite of the fruit snacks, and yet they torment me so! Why, why must I receive so many of them in one pack and so few of my favorite flavor?! Why am I forced to the torment of eating these orange creatures before getting my satisfying prize? Why do I not simply throw them out? I feel as if I've given up if I throw them out, as if some divine force out there is waiting for that day, so that they may personally come before me and laugh in the face of the mortal who thought they could endure this fruity torture.
NAY, there is INDEED a divine force out there there that is preventing me from reaching my delicious goal! Some grand force that simply frowned upon my very taste buds! For there is simply no statistical way for it to be properly explained! I've come to the conclusion that I am being targeted. I am being personally watched over and toyed with, by this fruit snack god. Why, why!? Why am I denied the pleasure of a pack filled with strawberries!?
"JUST ONCE" I cried with all my heart, my hands clasped tightly together as I prayed to the stars "I'D LIKE TO EXPERIENCE THEY JOY OF A FRUIT SNACK PACK WITH MOSTLY STRAWBERRIES! IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR!?"
As if responding, the frightening boom of thunder cried throughout the skies. There was no lightning, there weren't even any clouds within sight; but somewhere out there, something had listened to my cries. My vision blurred, my body collapsed, and my eyes nailed shut. I woke up in what seemed like a full month later, though checking the date I could see it had only been a night. I didn't even brush my teeth. I didn't head anywhere near the bathroom. I ran straight into the kitchen. My legs trusted against the ground at a pace I've never felt them move at before, yet I was not controlling them. It was as if they were being moved by pure instinct.
I reach the pantry, and with one swift movement, throw the door open. There, in the center, a beam of light from a crack in the curtains shines a single ray right on what I seek. The box of fruity decadence, waiting for me to claim it. I pull the box out and open the flaps. My hands shake as I reach in and pull out a small plastic package. Every pore on my body tingles as my fingers fumble to the ends of the package and rip a small tear.
What's this? Pink? I close my eyes and gulp down what seemed like an anvil before opening them again. My eyes deceive me not, for there is indeed a pink fruit poking out from the very small tear I have created on this package. My breathing becomes heavy. My knees start rubbing against each other as if they've a will of their own. I further advance the rip to reveal yet another heavenly shade of pink. My heart races at a rate that makes me feel as if it's about to burst. My pants become violent. My glasses fog. My head becomes light. My body feels as if it's too weak to support itself. Yet my body straightens out until I'm standing on my very tiptoes. But no, it's too early, it can't happen now. I have to hold on. I need to wait longer. I lose control of my salivary glands and a trickle of drool seeps out from my agape mouth. But I mustn't focus on such little things. I must hold back. I must claim my prize!
I can no longer hold it in. It has to be now. A primal urge boils from deep within me. I rip the package completely in half within the blink of an eye, with the force of seven gorillas. The fruit snacks catapult into the very skies, soaking in the oxygen surrounding them. But I do not look. My eyes are closed. I extend my hands out and feel as they fall neatly into even piles within each palm. I close my hands and savor their feel for a bit. That texture, that soft stretchy feel, the slight coldness of each one. Yes, I feel them. I want them. I want them in me now. I shoot my eyes open and glare beams into my hands as I slowly open them.
My legs finally give in. The sound of a sickening smash and crunch echoes throughout the room as my kneecaps slam against the ground, undoubtedly either horribly dislocated or broken from the impact. However, I do not feel any pain whatsoever. I bring my hands up to my face. I press them with all my force against my skin. With a searing sound, I feel the snacks melt into my very core. The smell of fruit snacks wafts throughout a 40 mile radius, alerting all. Alerting them all of...my sorrow. I pull my hands away from my face. The hot, sticky goop thins out into small threads of liquid as I pull my hands further. The hot and sticky threads that drip down burn like molten lava. Rivers of tears fall from my eyes. However, nobody can see these tears, for they are hidden behind a coat of orange. I sit there, head bowed in defeat. Why? Why have I been denied once more? I was certain I'd get my wish this time. I was certain I'd achieve fruity goodness that would surpass the feel of any pleasure ever experienced in my life. I do not clean my face of this sticky goop. I wear it as a mask of shame, as an eternal reminder of the day I foolishly thought I could go against the fruit snack god.
There were indeed two strawberries within the pack, for they now stand as pink marks indicating where my eyes used to be. I've been toyed with. Never in my life have I faced such utter humiliation. And so I carry on, forever lost, denied the right to properly enjoy the luxury of the divine fruit snack pack.
This is my sorrow.
This is my pain.
This is my curse.
This is my story.
(Based on a true story of what happened to me this morning)
It sounds a bit odd considering all the typos I make (I notice them, yes), but I do sometimes writefag when I'm bored, usually in random /jp/ threads when I feel like it. some of them circulate occasional as pasta, but I won't point out which ones I've created. This story has nothing /jp/ related thought, it's just me writing down my tragic story. Since I can't think of anything to post about, I may think about just writing some stories here every now and then. But I think they'd be tl;dr and nobody would read them anyway, so maybe I won't. I have some assignment due tonight at 11 that I'm just procrastinating on, so it's all cool. It's an easy assignment anyway, but those are the worst because I end up thinking they're so easy that I don't have to jump onto it right away. Before I know it I have like 20 minutes to complete it, and even though it's easy to do, it becomes a race against time.
I'm going to get another fruit pack. It'll just be filled with oranges and pineapples anyway...
~ Kirari ミ★