This time there will be no getting up and starting again, starting over. that's not what this will be like at all. I'm going to collapse before the first punch is thrown and I'll be down and out for the count and the viscount, and I won't get up ever again, not on my own volition, as I hit the tarmac the tissues of my body will immediately begin to send out spores and the ribosomes will tether my expired body to the ground. I'll be changing shape. I guarantee you will have never seen that before and you'll never see it again later.
Some of you will take advantage of my collapse, my breakdown, my being digested, and kick or hit me. Bad move, but I know you'll do it anyway. I have it all planned. The thing that will happen is the spores will launch out and attack any exposed skin it senses, immediately; if no skin is exposed it will soak through your denim garments and you'll be affected in short order. The spores will serve to connect you to me. You'll have no luck pulling free, so sad for you. You'll start oozing. You see, you and I are the same stuff, really, even though you have thought we were opposites. But opposites are the same, they're just different sides of the same mass of organs. You never learned that in time to escape. Soon you will be there with me, the same pool of viscous matter. The same will happen to anyone who touches you, or them, and so forth. The very ground will be touched and communicated for miles around by a network of ribosomes, all of it aware and alive, ready to fasten themselves to you wherever you touch the earth or the pavement, the carbon pavement. No longer strictly living as people, we will still be alive in a sense. Your revenge will be enacted as its own punishment. At last, we will join as one. You never expected this but now you cannot think as you used to. We're bound to Earth in a new way, all of us living as one, the magma like the blood in Earth's veins. The magma, in cold blood, we spew together and it's all according to plans.
There's no escaping this underlying logic. It's the mycologist who's in charge, who created the life on this earth, named Earth, this man, named Man, overseen by God and overlooked by gods. The gods are good but created our life here on this rock to be evil and to be damned, and we've never been out of Hell, nor ever will escape.
What's that? You say I'm raving? I'm a lunatic? ME? Ha ha ha, no, you've got it all wrong, you're all jealous of me and that's why you sought to pull me down. You have nothing of the truth, I was made by a higher being and I die to smite all of you. It will be a pleasure to die because it will bring about your ruin. All part of the plan. I'm going to be in charge of all of you when the higher being snaps you away from me, when I am lifted up to the high thrown and you will be stomped down. You are the new growth, the new grass, and I'm sending a wildfire for you. Short lived, long died, that will be YOU.
You could have avoided this, you know. You could have been smarter about it. And now I'm as good as dead and you're trapped into your punishment...of me, from me. It's good to happen this way. You'll be a mass of spores for a while and you'll know your every cell like a pleasure house, you'll have buckets full of your pleasure in your hand and you'll think this is a good way to go, but you'll be so wrong. You'll be blessed, but only insofar as you're going to serve a better purpose in which your own human life will really not matter, because you've already made your choice: to torment, to attack, to lie. But I won't have it. And you will not last. Enjoy the choice of the life you chose.
But don't feel sad. You had no choice in the matter anyhow. I don't blame you. Just like me, you were doing what you thought was right. So was I. We were all wrong. I was fooled just as you were fooled. You were insane just like I am insane. You're the building blocks of my demise, that's all. Blocks.
How does it feel to be a block, you haters? How do you feel about this now? Are you ready to admit you were wrong, to apologize now?
I don't care. It's too late, the moment is coming fast...the turn.
Are you ready now to accept my apology for things I don't even know that I actually did? Why did I have to do that, apologize for things I didn't know about? Did I do anything bad? No, not on purpose. Maybe not at all. I don't know now; nobody will tell me.
Maybe that's your real revenge, accusing me and never letting me know if the things you described were real or not. Letting me doubt my sanity forever. Gaslighting me.
You've had your revenge. Now lie still and let the spores do their work. Be one with the world. Be calm...dissolve now. Quiet. Still.
Gone.