existential dread

“Your test results are positive,” the doctor said as he sat grimly behind his desk.

I took a deep breath. “What does this mean?” I asked.

“You’re perfectly healthy. Not a damn thing is wrong with you. You are going to live a very, VERY long life.”

I sighed.

“This is terrible news doc.”

THE END

I’m not a perfect person

So I was dropping acid at a Hoobastank concert when I got punched in the face.

“What the hell man!” I yelled.

“Oh, sorry sir, I thought you were my wife.”

Unfortunately it was at that moment when the acid kicked in. By the time band played “Naked Jock Man”, I was on an intergalactic journey with Carl Sagan.

I woke up in the ICU and the lady doctor told me that I had a “concussion and picked up an STD.” After I was discharged, I went up to the doctor and asked:

“Hey, wanna get a drink?”

“I don’t date patients,” she replied.

“Who said that this was a date? It’s just two people getting together over drinks.“

“Sir, you have hepatitis A, B, and C. You’re on the verge of both kidney and liver failure. You obviously have a massive pill addiction. AND you have crippling diabetes. If you don’t change your lifestyle right now, you will be dead in four years,” she told me.

What a fucking bitch.

Could’ve just said “no”.