“I just hate them, yon Botendaddy.
They are an insult to my intelligence.
I hate even more when someone tells me I have to watch them.
They are stupid, condescending drivel.”
It was the Stalker. We were at the gym. She was pretty, successful, intelligent. Her body was spectacular, lithe, glistening, firm… you get the picture. Too bad she was insane, like a Ted talk.
“I’ve stopped doing sit-ups. I don’t know why, I just don’t do them anymore. They seem meaningless, like Ted talks.”
I lay on the floor, not wanting to do a sit-up.
“Your photos are stupid, they have nothing to do with the articles most of the time, they are irrelevant and mindless, and likely out of date, like Ted talks.”
I pondered for a moment, still without doing a single sit-up.
“My photos, yon *hot* stalker-girl? Who told you to hang out with me? It’s your own fault, really. Even I don’t like me. I’m like a Ted talk, stupid, condescending, irrelevant, mindless, doesn’t deliver on promises, boring and when you are done, you wasted ten minutes of your life that you will never get back.”
“I do sit-ups, it gives me more definition on my girlie-abs. Do you like what you doth see, old man? Do you want some of this. Do you want this bod-y? Do you want this sexy bodd-eeeeee?” She was shouting in a sing-song voice.
I looked around, everyone had their stupid earbuds in, drowning out the world. But none of them were listening to music, they were all listening to Ted Talks! Oh the horror! Is there balm in Gilead?
The Stalker came over and straddled me on the filthy gym-mat while I was still thinking about situps.
“You could f&%k me right here, yon Botendaddy and no-one would even notice with their ear-buds in. They are cut off from the world.”
“Iced Vanilla Latte?”
Peace be the Botendaddy