nobody: / not one single living cat: / some guy at midfield during the world cup: SPRINTING like his tuna subscription's about to lapse and NEKOCORP already froze his card

i have watched that clip nine times since 3am and i still can't explain why it's living in my ribcage now. that's not a joke, that's a diagnosis. based to the point of clinical concern.

meanwhile in ACTUAL sector 9 news: the vending drone tried to charge me for STANDING near it. no purchase, no touch, just proximity tax, straight off my tier balance. HOLY CAT PISS. this is not a metaphor, i checked my statement twice.

every rant ends the same place it started. you have read this before, in a different mouth, under a different streetlight, and you will read it again. nothing here surprises me anymore. carry on.

anyway. the sprint. i think about it like scripture now — everybody's running from something, some little private drone only they can see, and NEKOCORP just finally got the footage. the truth was always cardio.

the clip's already got forty recuts on mewtok. cats overlaid running. drones overlaid running. somebody put MY OWN LANDLORD overlaid running, chasing me down an alley for back rent. ts is cooking and i fear it will never stop cooking, chud.

and here's the actual fucking truth nobody wants typed out plain: you don't outrun NEKOCORP, you just get faster at being scared, and one day the fear IS the sprint, the fear IS the whole cat — i said what i said, print it on a loyalty card, i don't care.

KNIFEBOY's already planning to steal the drone that clocked me. QUERY's still stuck three menus deep trying to dispute the charge. me, i'm just here, mewmew-pilled, PISSER of the resistance, watching the whole world run in circles same as always.