Becoming My Bondservant Will Solve All Your Problems

Become my bondservant.  Shut up, just do it.


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


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.


Mourn the loss of your freedom.


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


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.


Remember the Titans.


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


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


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


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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