Diary of the Modern Man

My guinea pig died last night. I woke up to the smell of dead flesh and decaying soul. The flesh was his and the soul was mine. You wouldn’t think such a recent corpse would produce such a foul odor, but considering I had the lovable pet on a diet solely consisting of skittles, nilla wafers, cold uncooked Campbell's chicken noodle (the chunky kind not the regular kind, and don’t get me started on that reduced salt bull shit, okay, I’m eating fucking Campbell's chicken noodle soup I’m not trying to be the world's healthiest individual, if it wasn’t obvious already I have no shame or care for my body) chocolate milk, and diet mountain dew, it may be understandable how such a smell could infest my studio apartment.

Little Enrique was like a son to me. Since I have no children and was never able to make myself an attractive enough of a human being or potential mate to find anyone that would want to have children with me, I was stuck with Enrique. That doesn’t mean I loved him any less, however. He still filled the gap in my life that will most likely be perpetually filled by small domesticated animals, sugar filled snacks, and alcohol. I couldn’t afford any larger pets because my studio apartment is so small and I have so little excess cash considering I live in the middle of the biggest city in the country.

I work in marketing right now for a small company that is really the coolest company ever. I love the people I work with and they are like family, mainly because I don’t talk to my evil family anymore. It’s not like I even had much of one to begin with since I never met my Dad and my mom was always out working or dating other guys. She has a new man that convinced her to vote for Trump so I decided, at the advice of all my friends, that I should disown my mother and this new fool she found.

By the way, as I’ve been writing this I’ve started to get used to the smell and it isn’t so bad anymore. Actually, come to think of it, I don’t mind it so much…it’s actually starting to make me hungry. You know what, Enrique is dead and there is nothing I can do about it. Instead of wasting any more tears on the loss of my baby, I shall do what I know, as a cannibalistic rodent, he would want. Tonight, I will prepare Enrique as a meal. I’m not a very good cook but I’m sure it’s not hard. Plus, I don’t have much money for food anyway, and the money I do have I usually waste on worthless trash that pollutes my body. I told this guy I matched with on tinder to come over tonight. I hope Steve doesn’t mind the taste of guinea pig.