Writing can sometimes feel dumb, like you're trying to impress people with words. Write a few good sentences, tell a story, get a point across, all that shit. To what ends? To no ends is my answer.
Timmy slapped the last piece of duct tape to his newest invention, the Tunneler 40K. Designed to bore through the earth, made of metal scrap, adhesive, and Legos, the Tunneler 40K had one purpose: To get Timmy out of having to clean his fucking room!
The main part, the giant drill was the hardest part to make. It ended up being the fan from his dad’s radiator. Fuck that piece of shit! He was ready to get to the other side of the world so he could play Minecraft with his best friend!
The internet was an amazing tool for bringing people together, but Timmy wanted more, always more. He couldn’t just talk and chat online like some sort of pleb, he needed to be next to and smell his friends. It was one of the main reasons he didn’t have any. But this new mate online seemed nice enough!
With a few pings and a quick call to his internet service provider, Timmy locked in the coordinates. He got his new friends address and didn’t even have to ask! The only problem was that his new friend lived on the other side of the world. Do you think a little problem like that would stop this little shit? Hell no, Timmy wasn’t going to let a little thing like geography stop him in his pursuits that might be unhealthy, mentally.
“RRRRRRRrrr-----BOOOOM” came the explosion out in front of the house, Timmy frantically putting the final touches on the Tunneler 40K.
“Where is that little bastard!” Timmy’s Dad cried out, a bit shaken in his voice.
His precious 2012 Ford Explorer was now a smoking pile of scrap a few years earlier than intended. The warranty didn’t cover overheating due to your kid ripping out the coolant system for one $35 fan.
“Fuck You, Dad!” Timmy yelled back, done with it.
He hit the switch and tilted the fan/drill into the ground. Bye dad, bye house, bye mom passed out before dinner from wine and barbiturates. Timmy was about to meet his new friend, and they would be their own family! They could build their farms, mines, and houses with no bedtime or school! All the sheep and golems were theirs forever!
With a hard jump, the Tunneler 40K began operations and started tunneling into the center of the earth! The fastest way between two points is a straight line!
Through dirt, bedrock, and lava the Tunneler 40K continued, never stopping, never seizing. Timmy looked behind, to see the slowly fading light shine from his entrance hole. He barely make out the outline of his dad along with an angry scream. Timmy’s dad was very upset now.
But Timmy gave no fucks. He was already crossing through the center of the earth! A giant, pulsating sphere of heavy metals, not a fantastical land of Lemurians and Nazis as he was so led to believe.
Timmy then began experiencing something no one else had; complete zero-g in the center of the world. It was magical, akin to your soul euphorically leaving the body. Timmy’s young brain, though highly intelligent, was overwhelmed at his senses being displaced. The feeling quickly subsided and he felt the force of gravity pull at his back. He was drilling up now, more than halfway there!
Pushing the pedal down, the Tunneler 40K roared beyond loud, a rip in the very fabric of sound-space. Timmy was pushing it to it’s limit, eager to meet his new friend. It would prove to be his undoing.
As he neared the surface, the drill burst through a container of sorts, it’s contents splashing down into Timmy’s eyes, face, and mouth. He could tell instantly what it was by the taste, smell, and feel.
He had drilled into a septic tank.
Frantically, Timmy tried to reverse the Tunneler 40K, but instead of backing out, the engine seized up on an errant turd. The drill/fan slowly stopped spinning and spraying the contents of the darkened septic tank.
Timmy was fucked.
The Tunneler 40K was smoked, the engine clogged, the tunnel behind collapsed. Timmy was now stuck inside this septic tank on the other side of the world.
And that’s where Timmy spent the rest of his life, all of the next 45 years. He survived on the contents on that septic tank, the flush of a toilet a chance of things both good and bad. At first he tried sifting through it, to collect an errant piece of fiber or corn kernel, but he soon just relented to eating it whole and drinking what could be slurped off the bottom.
The only respite Timmy had during those long, bleak years was the far off echo of voices rattling through the sewer line. Sometimes, if the weather was right and the shit wasn’t too thick, Timmy thought he could hear the voice of his friend, still waiting to play Minecraft with him.
“Where’s your new little friend you playing computer games with, sweetie?”
“I don’t know. He just stopped playing one day. It’s okay though, mom, he was weird anyway.”