Cogs can think.

Last Saturday I threw a party for some of my closer friends at my place. The original idea was to hold the party during election night, but since everyone was being all responsible and slaves to capitalism, whining about work and school and whatever, we held the party the following Saturday.

The whole thing was awesome, but it did remind me of something Marco said somewhere last week or the week before that: we’re pretty much stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. The people that were here Saturday night, those are the people whose weddings we’ll visit, whose baby showers we’ll enjoy, whose funerals we’ll attend. I’ll turn 24 in three weeks, only six years and my life will be over, so I better get my social circle in order or else no one will cry during my funeral. Not because of me - but because they’ll be forced to listen to Fiona all throughout the god damn ceremony. THAT ONE’S FOR MAKING FUN OF FIONA AND ME.

But then again, I have this fear that even when we’re dead and buried, I’m still stuck with those people. I pretty much got front row seats in hell due to that one time I tried to score a chick on a graveyard in Belgium, and so do most of the other people in my circle of friends. But that’s not my biggest fear. Oh no.

My biggest fear is that when we arrive in hell, and Satan unleashes thousands of his minions upon us to commence the eternal cycle of torment and pain, I’m gonna be like, psssh. Amateurs.

I’ll be all like, uhm, fire? Brimstone? Dude, I already been to Texas, this stuff isn’t working. You guys have a similar administration to the one on the other side, right? You folk know all I’ve done and such, right? All my thoughts? Use that to your advantage, damnit! You guys have this whole untapped resource of subtle torture ideas, and you’re not even using it.

Take me for example. Sir Satan, you don’t have to waste all those precious mana points on casting thousands of little demons of fire - you can use your mana points much more efficiently by simply casting a kitchen where all the cups face the wrong way, where the cutlery is unsorted, but where no matter what you do, no matter how you sort and turn everything, the moment you blink, everything’s back to its unsorted state.

That’s subtle torture for you right there, sir, and you’ve saved on mana points, and you don’t have to deal with all those annoying demons of fire anymore (litterboxes for fire demons aren’t cheap, you know). Implement mana points saving rules all across hell, and in no time, you can conjure yourself a nice Alfa 8C with wheels of fire.

That’s my biggest fear. Not hell, but the fact I’ll probably make hell a lot more efficient.