u/personguy4440

fadedtekkit.serv.cx

So many people whining about the smallest things & making major decisions over small problems

You do the slightest thing someone doesn't like, they leave or go to reddit & whine to get confirmation (bias) from everyone in the comments.

Oh no, dude wants to play games, how dare he not give me every second of his time instead of enjoy his hobbies

Oh no, she dare talked to a guy shes not even into, now I KnOw sHeS ChEaTiNg

Oh no, he said I was being bitchy (she was severely due to the time of the month & tested his patience) Now I'm gonna end our 5 year marriage with kids cuz im not gonna take this aBuSe

The list goes on, now alot are reasonable to leave; but so increasingly, oh they dont have that same spark, YA NO ONE WILL IF YOU COMPLAIN SO MUCH. Learn to deal with it like all of your ancestors did or accept the problem is you.

Sammy lives in a magical, bustling kingdom called the Stratum Basale, which is way, way down at the bottom of your skin. Sammy’s favorite thing to do is cuddle with her mommy. But in Sammy's world, families don't stay together for long. In fact, they only have about twenty-four hours before everything goes splat.

Every single day, it’s time for a game called Mitosis!

When the big clock in the sky strikes division time, Mommy Cell hugs Sammy really, really tight. But it's not a normal hug. Mommy starts to stretch. And stretch. And streeeeeetch until her tummy rips wide open and her guts spill out into two perfect, identical pieces!

As Mommy’s nucleus splits in half with a wet, squelching POP, she looks at her new little twin clones with her fading, gooey vacuoles. Each time a generation is about to die, the mommy cell smiles through the agonizing tearing of her own membrane and says:

"Don't worry, tomorrow we'll get to see the beautiful, blinding light of the outside world!"

The next day, the new Sammy is a mommy herself. She gets pushed up higher into the skin by the crowds of screaming babies below. She doesn't have time to mourn her mother, because her own tummy is already starting to rip apart! POP! "Don't worry, tomorrow we'll get to see the beautiful, blinding light of the outside world!" she gasps to her own babies as her cytoplasm oozes onto the floor.

Generation after generation, the Sammys get pushed higher and higher. But the kingdom above isn't a fairy tale. It’s cold. It's dry. There is no water.

By the time the great-great-great-grand-Sammys reach the very top, they aren't plump and juicy anymore. They are suffocated, flattened, dried-out corpses, glued together in a horrific wall of the undead called the Stratum Corneum.

And then,a big, heavy towel scratches down from the heavens.

The final Mommy Cell, now just a hardened, flaky husk of dead keratin, looks at her suffocating, dried-up baby one last time as they are ripped away from the body forever. As they drift down into the dark abyss of a dusty bedroom carpet to be eaten by giant, monstrous dust mites, she whispers with her very last breath:

"Don't worry, tomorrow we'll get to see... the inside of a vacuum cleaner!"

The End.