TheChez.net

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By: a schizo asian

Mistackes? Bah, I certainly don’t make them. I am blessed to be a

perfect being, void of blemishing inadequacies. I laugh at the tepid,

drooping face of chance and her failing aroma. She doesn’t touch me! I

don’t smell her! Mwuahaha!

You hastily assume that I am wrong and that I must have made at least

one mistake in my life. Maybe, you might think, I am insane. I assure

you: a feeble mind like yours would come to such a thought.

Paradoxically and subsequently, beyond all energies of a world in which

the sun most positively revolves around (because I, along with China, am

the center of the universe), I am consummate. I am a god. The

erroneous events that you blunderingly coin “mistakes” are simply

purposeful actions taken so that you may deem me human and I may easily

assimilate into your meager culture.

For instance, just a moment ago when I was casting polyacrylimide

gels in lab, you think that I forgot to degas the solution before adding

the hardening substrates. However, you brutes are incorrect! I

intentionally neglected this step because I enjoy being in lab during

the summer and wanted to spend a few more trite hours in slaving

captivity.

Similarly, earlier this week, you think I broke a couple of

graduated cylinders because I was carrying too many objects at one time

and they slipped through my hands. Again, you brutes are in the wrong!

I forcefully threw these worthless pieces of pyrex glass at the ground

for they did not measure out 50 mL to my satisfaction.

The automobile that I use as a means of translocation was flooded

the other day because I ignored to shut the windows during a powerful

thunderstorm. You think this a mistake? I assure twas not! I take

pleasure in blow-drying my car and airing it out for a full week. I

bask in the glory of wet seats and moldy upholstery.

Although I am indeed perfect, I did come from human parents. Both

natively speak Vietnamese. As a child, I refused to learn such an

abominable language, for English is the one true language of a god! To

this day you may term me as “confused” when relatives come over and

speak in their native tongues. Howbeit, I remain resolved in my

approval of English as the best language ever.

For one more example of my perfection, I draw upon the scar upon my

elbow. I was riding down a steep hill on a bicycle of which I refused

to replace the brakes of. You immediately bear the idea that a

reckless, young, and hasty teenager smashed into a neighbor’s mailbox,

obliterating the box and his arm. Yet, again, you are incorrect! I

plainly rode the un-tuned, broken bike to get rid of such an ugly

mailing apparatus. I was noble enough to sacrifice my arm to save the

neighborhood from this eyesore.

Ending my prompt, I reiterate that I have never made a mistacke in

my entire life because:

Humans make mistakes.

I don’t make mistakes.

Thus, I am a god. QED