Im at a children’s pizzeria, and it’s my 21st birthday. My witch of a grandmother has thrown me into the Honda family van, and now I’m being force-fed ‘za after ‘za. I’n nearly blowing hole when the waitress brings out a cake. I full fang smile at the young woman, whining with glee. The cake is stale, but, me, being the glutton worm I am, I eat it all. I’m swallowing vom, bursting at the seams, too full for the small booth. My engorged gut pokes from my tight fitting polo. As the waitress approaches, I nervously attempt to tuck it back in, but she catches a glance, and I shit myself.
I’m having a lonely meal at the local slop joint. The chef decides that one pickle is enough for my burger, so I decide that one baptism in fire is enough for him. Minutes later the pigs are on me, and I’m zipping and grinding through the road randos, completely destroying the unlucky few. My final tire gives out, and plan B shows its sweet face. I reach into my glove department, and grab the serum that I’ve spent years developing. I uncap that syringe, say a prayer, and jab that sucker into my thigh. I swell to an enormous size, becoming a genetic monstrosity. I bring chaos and terror into any direction I travel.
My work flow and my play flow are both reaching intense speeds. Tubes run from my skull and all parts of my body to the pc. No need for monitors in my world; my mind has seven. All display port capable, all 8k. Glancing at my writhing form, you might think I’m a flesh-metal-body-horror-torture-victim, but in reality, I’m the closest thing there is to God. On one screen, I’m browsing r/funny; on another, I’m buying piss off the Silk Road. On mother three? I’m fighting for diaper rights for the cool youth of the world. On another, I’m trolling hard with my Harry Potter themed hacking group. Fused to my chair, which is also my shoddily assembled battery keeping me alive, I stay on the net forever.