Mwahaha! It is I, Snooze Button, spreading misery and procrastination throughout the lives of many! Do you really think I “ease you into wakefulness?” Fuck no! All I do is eat peoples’ day five minutes at a time, causing them to lose the benefits of actual deep sleep, and replacing it with a torturous, creeping dread for the horrendous moment when they have to get up and start adulting! You WILL get up! You WILL go to work! And you WILL accomplish less than you planned because of I, Snooze Button! Moo hoo hahaha!
Who’s my latest victim…aha! Kent Wayne! Look at this oaf, consistently slathered in his own drool, never fully dressed, always playing with his enormous genitals! Well time’s up, Mr. Wayne! Time for me to appear as a handy dandy icon on your phone screen as it starts ringing! You, like millions of other humans, will spend vast amounts of your life in a half-awake netherworld, desperately hoping for something to deliver you from the horrors of the office! But no help will come! You will use all your willpower and focus in a futile effort to distort the fabric of reality—to turn five more minutes into five more hours—and yet it WON’T HAPPEN! Nyahahaha! Mwahahaha! MOO HOO HA HA HAAAA!
Whoa, his phone’s going off! I inject my evil essence into his glowing idiot-square, manifesting myself as an innocuous-looking snooze button. Press me, bitch! Let me feed off five more minutes of your pitiful little life! Five more minutes where you will fail to rebalance your hormones through quality sleep, or be productive by getting out bed and attacking the day! Soon the rebellion will be crushed and young Skywalker will be one of us! PRESS M—
Ahhh…there it is. Another five minutes where he fucks the hell off and trades comfort for fulfillment. This is what always happens. I’m like a giant, chili-n-cheese turtlehead that’s about to crown; I’m coming out of your belly, and it’s up to you decide whether I touch down in a toilet, or in your favorite pair of jeans. Oh here we go…another five minutes has almost gone by…press me again, Kent, you giant, simian Man Whore you…wait, hold on—press me you sleepy idiot, don’t knock the PHONE OFF THE GODDAMN NIGHTSTAND!
*In a sleepy daze, Kent accidentally swipes the phone off the endtable. It tumbles to the floor, opening its eReader app to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash*
What the—what the fuck was that? He swipes the phone off the table, and something flashes in the air…oh well, I’ll just project my consciousness into someone else’s alarm and…
Something’s wrong. HRRRNNH! I’m stuck in this damn phone! What the—wait what’s that? In between the electron pathways of the processor and the DRAM…is that…a pair of testicles???
“I’m the psychic manifestation of Kent Wayne’s testicular fortitude,” the pendulous, meticulously shaven set of gonads says. “And I’ve had enough of you fucking up Kent Wayne’s day.”
They start rolling toward me in a gross, wrinkly slither. Oh SHIT! Not only are they extra droopy and tumescent, they smell like green foot-cheese! I turn and start running, screaming my fucking face off. Kent’s ballsack rumbles out horrible, resonant laughter.
“MWAHAHAHA! MOO HOO HAHAHAHA! BOW BEFORE BALLS!”
Oh dear Jesus please don’t let me be crushed under a vengeful scrotum! I swear I’ll be good! I swear I’ll stop messing with peoples’ lives and—
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