132: ???

i am about 90% sure you’re a robot. i don’t know how to prove it short of cutting your head off, though. dunno what you think, dunno what they programmed you to think, but i’m getting the impression that you are a robot of some kind. first: you don’t sleep. i’ve never seen you sleep. in fact on occasion when i head downstairs for a midnight snack or what have you, i’ll find you watching infomercials on the downstairs telly, your head cocked at an angle like it’s confusing you or like … you’re processing human behaviours. odd, isn’t it? then there’s the food issue. i’ve never seen you eat! what do you eat? the pantry remains as stocked as it was a week ago, minus the bits and pieces i’ve eaten and mum’s eaten. even when we went to the grocers and i asked you if you wanted anything, remember, you said “oh, surprise me,” so i bought you a couple starbars because i fucking love those things, but then yesterday i took a look in the pantry and they’re still there. why are they still there, man? i would’ve eaten those things in a heartbeat! i did eat them, actually, once i decided you were a robot, cause robots don’t have to eat now do they? oh and also, i’ve never seen you use the toilet. not once! do you pee? do you shit? what do you do because, i dunno, compute things? you’re a fucking robot i just know it. just admit it and we can move on from there. and if you’re from another planet or something i’ll be extra pissed off at you!