Becoming My Bondservant Will Solve All Your Problems

Become my bondservant.  Shut up, just do it.

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Wear a name tag that says “Bondservant” 24 hours a day.  Forget your name because your former identity is dead.  You are Bondservant.

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Train three miniature horses to bring me Tostitos when I ring a porcelain bell decorated with hand-painted fish I bought five years ago at a gift shop in Florida.

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Mourn the loss of your freedom.

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Become unable to mourn after I threaten to disembowel you for feeling emotions.

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Cover your hands in liquid chocolate and caress my neck and breasts in a dimly lit room.  Be initially unwilling.  Be disturbed and enthralled by your resulting erotic dreams.

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Remember the Titans.

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Convert to my religion and erase all previous trace of philosophical influence from your mind.  Never think for yourself again.

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Make me the grilled sandwiches I like so much, the ones with roasted red peppers and chicken.  Don’t whine, just do it.

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Make a conscious decision to lay down your consciousness, which is ironic and maybe self-defeating in some way.

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Get me a strawberry milkshake now, dammit.

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2 Responses to “Becoming My Bondservant Will Solve All Your Problems”

  1. dusty Says:

    I just need an address where to bring it to.

    and it won’t be the shitty kind from a machine.

    it will be a real milkshake with a whole nuther half portion in a stainless steel cup.

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