And what did I get? (Séan X Jastung Tibmebrkaje)

Séan

Séan was a lost soul. He was short and scrawny and moved his arms as if they were made out of spaghetti . Real sloppy and weird looking. One would think Séan ought to be insecure about his unfortunate apperance but no. Séan was a man and therefore he did not understand that being a weak four on the good looking sacle was not impressive, like at all. He thought his existance was a gift to humanity given to them by some sort of higher being. Maybe he had been given to the humans by a higher being, but in that case he was most likley more of a punishment than a gift. Kind of like Pandora but without the beauty and double the plauge and misfortune. But back to the lost soul bit. When I say thar he was a lost soul it was more along the lines of "he made no effort to have been a found soul to begin with" and less like "a gracious man struck by misery and because of that lost himself". He was all in all next to useless. 

Despite his overall unimpressive existance he was a rather happy guy. Perhaps he was too busy thinking he was a strong seven with a charming personality to actually remeber what a loser he was. Maybe he just didn't care about the fact that he was a loser. Maybe he just didn't consider himself a loser and thought everyone else was in the wrong. Either way he was happy.  Séan was under the gneral impression that life wasn't to be taken too seriously. It'd be over eventually anyway. 

Séan was also unemployed. He spent most of his time hanging out by the pond, which was full of spum. He loved the smell of the sloshy, muddish, grey goo that the town council tried to convince the citizens was actually fully drinkable water. It wasn't, and Séan loved it for that. The smell, that was strong enough to burn your nosehair, filled Séan's lungs one particularly smelly tuesday afternoon. He felt the moist breeze dance on his mustache, a mustache which was more reminiscent of pubic hair than it was facial hair, and he felt as if he was on top of the world. He wasn't, but again, Séan wasn't self-aware enough for that fact to stick. 

However this is not a happy story. This is a story of betrayal. Of grave misfortune. The kind of slings and arrows Hamlet was rambling on about. Séan was about to have an unbelievably bad day.  

Once Séan felt ready to leave his pond, once the smell of the spum had burnt the last nostril hair and the nails on his toes had begin to curl from the fumes, he began walking home. The grey sky covered his town and as he looked up toward the alarmingly greenish clouds he felt raindrops fall on his face and as he walked he felt truly at peace with life. With the universe. With himself and others. He had become enlightened as the buddhist say. Then he was hit by a car.