22nd April, 2116
Dear DictateApp (Diary-entry.doc),
It's --unrecognized text or gibberish-- so --unrecognized text or gibberish--. Whatever! The 16 year old mass of carbonic flesh that they see as me is miserably pillaged of all euphoria in this twin-twos century. Why couldn't I be the heroic sperm that got transfused in an ovum when a boozing couple had sex in 2000. Oh what a time my great grand something, as in, dad's dad's dad must have had- clicking selfies, eating mud pie and posting it on the web. Nobody cares about the web today nor about clicking selfies, but they do want mud pies as long as their robots are sane enough to fetch it from the 'under-the-desk' kitchen. The new school year starts tomorrow and I haven't got my i-teacher fixed. Thank big-bang, the history books this year won't talk about the tech-maven guy of Microsoft, the syllabus includes adages of the man behind my i-robot instead. I will hit the screen of the 'teacher' with my 'Spiderman puller' if it asks for my mother's name again for registration into the new school year. How, under this green sky, do I explain to them that I do not have a mother. I just have a father and a father; just like Bella has a mother and a mother.
I've been contemplating as to whether I should stop being an atheist and start believing in God because the news last week says that they were trying to bring a dead body to life with some carbon-synthesized antimatter pseudo-life liquid which they injected into the body but it did nothing except for making the cadaver's eyes swell like a gourd fruit and ironically, the awe killed one of the scientists who had declared the same week, "I have pioneered the anti-death drug". Who, except God, could roast the scientist in the dungeon of mockery to eternity?
I'll have to stay at home all day today 'Amazoning' the i-robot about the latest brand of tattoos, my nose needs a makeover and I'll get it inked with an 'Iron throne' from an ancient series 'Game of Thrones'; or probably watch out for next month's country that will split into five like the atoms of a nuclei except that the countries don't produce any form of energy. I had planned to visit Dan today but Dad and Daddy have flown for shopping and I can't have the drone for another 3 hours. Dan had a bit of cancer last week but I guess he's already playing FIFA116 for the town today. My team lost the NBA cup for the fourth time in a row but I can't stop being their zealot because of which grand dad calls me some Chelsea team fan of his time.
Do you remember the neighbor who was scoffed at by the entire locality for not petting a single dog? He finally got one to complete his family and it'll be a huge relief to Uncle Joe's OCD. The Halloween show shall unroll in a few days and I'll be the phantom of a 21st century contender for American Presidency who committed suicide after losing. Legend has it that his untamed spirit ruthlessly searches for brown people and tries to scare them with anything colored white under his reach.
I wrote a few inspiring lines for myself,
"At least, you don't smell of cow dung"
Reminder: Buy clothes. Winter's approaching.