Sunny 🏳️‍🌈 (She/they)

They're preying on insecurities to do it. Yes, you can write an essay - but can you write a good essay, they ask you. Do you not want to improve your output? Do you not want people to think of you as competent and very clever? Why go through the mortifying process of failing and failing and failing until you succeed if you can just skip the "learning" part of doing, and simply generate a ready-made product?

unauthorized fucking thing!!!!!!

(warning: loud chirping throughout)

Now, I'm going to give you a number, and I'm going to ask that you send in a photo of your target alongside any additional information you may have- family members, security, combat training, medical conditions, just anything you can think of that might be helpful.

Wonderful, you are all good. All we need now is a piece of government-issued ID, for insurance purposes, and a location for payment pickup. We accept cash, gold, processed uranium, and etransfer.

I'm sorry, we don't take american express.

Good, okay, so it looks like we are all set- when the job is complete, you will be notified VIA discreet codeword that a stranger will whisper to you on a crowded street.

We do not issue receipts, but if you'd like, I can arrange for a specific breed of tropical flower to be sent to your home address. Our associates will be able to validate it should the need arises.

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid the Pope is a high-status target that is beyond our area of service.

Yes, I- no, I'm sorry, I'm not able to do that for you.

Okay. Okay. Yes, I understand.

Sir, if you're going to use that sort of language, you should know that our HR department does operate in a hands-on capacity.

You try to pull the blanket off of yourself, and you realize that, it too, is made of chocolate. You try to shake it off, and step out of bed. Your carpet feels strangely spongy. You look down, only to realize it’s actually cake. Lovingly baked, and smelling of sweet fruit. You grab a piece, and cautiously take a bite. It is one of the most delicious cakes you have ever eaten.

You get up, confused, and exit your room to see if the rest of your house is like this. The door handle melts in your hand as you hold onto it, and covers it with dark chocolate carefully painted gold. The rest of the carpet on the floor is still cake, the guardrails on the stairs leading down are tempered chocolate, the tiles on the floor are the same, the windows are sugar glass, everything is edible.

You run outside, knocking over the lovingly crafted chocolate front door in a panic.

You realize, in horror, that your house was not an exception. The bushes, the grass, the asphalt on the road, the trees, birds, the world itself, is chocolate.