Before I lead you all into battle to defeat Gorgonzola, the supreme lord of all evil, in an epic final showdown, I need to come right out and say it: I’m not the Chosen One you need or want.
As I tried to explain, I’m pretty sure the scar on my thumb isn’t “the mark of the Chosen One.” I only have it because I sucked on my thumb well into my early teens.
I was perfectly fine living in the cozy little mansion that my mysterious dead parents left me until you whisked me off to some fortified military zone in the desolate, crumbling remains of a New York City type place and planted these delusions of grandeur in my head. My astrology app once said that I was destined for greatness, but I thought it just meant I’d get a diet tea sponsorship on Instagram or start a somewhat successful Etsy shop.
I don’t know how you expect me to master a series of complex and physically demanding martial arts moves after just one thirty-second montage when I can barely cut avocados with a kitchen knife, namely because I have early onset arthritis in my fingers from using my phone in the same position for hours while it charges. Can’t I just make an infographic on why it’s bad to use your supernatural fire-breathing powers to enslave the entire world and post it to my Instagram story instead?
I know I’m supposed to give an emotional speech to inspire you all to believe in yourselves at just the last second when all hope seems lost, but Josh hasn’t texted me in five days even though he watched my IG story so, like, what does that even mean?
I really don’t know how you expect me to defeat an all-powerful monster from outer space who breathes fire when the craziest thing I’ve ever done was participate in a flash mob to a TikTok song. I mean, I get diarrhea before making a phone call and I forget how to walk when I see those big groups of preteens at the mall.
And sorry, I know this is random, but Gladys, the rustic, potato-sack-like tunic you gave me is super cute. It pairs so nicely with the chainmail gloves. But I do have just one really small piece of feedback. Could you maybe give it pockets next time?
And, ugh, sorry, this is so embarrassing, but Gladys, could you stop sharpening that battle-axe and take a picture of me in my tunic? I want to post it on Instagram and see if Josh will like it. I’ll give you photo credit, but I can’t promise I’ll follow you back.
Okay, fine! I’ll try to focus, but I think Michaela is mad at me because I told her that the purple LED lights in her underground bunker are tacky even though I said I was just kidding. But it’s like, if she has a problem with me, then she needs to tell me. I’m not a mind reader, even if all of you insist I am.
Oh, great. Alright, that’s enough. Is now really the time to hauntingly chant my name in perfect unison to conjure my “special powers” again? Oh, okay, cool, now Frank’s got the bongo out. Listen, the gesture is really touching, but it makes me kind of uncomfortable because I never know what to do with my hands.
Um, okay, so… now I’m levitating. Oh, okay, and I guess I can read minds now, too. Alright, so it turns out Michaela isn’t mad about the lights thing, she’s actually mad about the time I told her wearing a hooded cloak was so 2018.
Alright, now that I can fly, I think I’m gonna head out and soar over this ridiculously tall, barbed wire fence. Listen, it’s been awesome getting to know you all. But now I think it’s time for me to unplug, reflect, and engage in some self-care at a yoga retreat in Bali, held in an exclusive survivalist compound.
Okay, there is no need to call me those names in your head, Gladys. I mean, like, yeah it’s bad that Gorgonzola is microchipping us, but I never put sticky notes over my laptop camera so it’s like the same thing.
And jeez, Frank, there is no need for that kind of language. Sure, dying via fire from the mouth of a blood-thirsty, ghoulish, smelly alien who is the greatest evil humanity has ever known is scary. But like, we’re all going to die from some horrible disease from a melting glacier one day, so who cares?
Anyway, remember to follow me on Instagram to keep up with my travels and the latest updates on my new Etsy store, where I will be selling vintage tunics with pockets! They’re available in three exciting colours: grey, beige, and dark beige. Stay tuned, because I’ll be writing an apology on my notes app and posting the screenshot to Twitter.