Trapped in a bunker where humans are reduced to ingredients for a grotesque feast, our Bullet confronts the brutal truth of survival versus morality.
Welcome to the serialized story of Mr. Harmless Bullet! For the audio version - scroll down. Genre: satire, absurdist comedy, dark adult humor (16+ only)
When the bag was removed from my head, the first thing that caught my eye was a chain of long tables with hundreds of people sitting in companionable silence. Most of them were rocking back and forth as if in a trance.
“What’s up?” I asked cheerfully.
My hoarse voice scared a young man on the bench closest to the door. He sank down to the floor on all fours and crawled on his stomach to the wall. To say I was shocked by his behavior would be an understatement.
I was still recovering from this strange incident when a heavy hand patted me on my left shoulder. The hand belonged to Constanza Lovesick. I jumped up, alerted by her compassionate action.
“Sorry,” she said, biting her lip. “I thought I imagined things. It couldn’t be Bullet, I said to myself. But here you are...”
“Yes, here I am, alive and transcending positivity of the highest level.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean a) I don’t understand how I got here, b) nobody warned me about this place, and c) why hang around and feel like a sucker or complain about how unfair life is when the room is full of beautiful people such as yourself, Constanza.” I touched her soft cheeks and added, “You and I could transform this room together.”
“How?”
“There are tons of possibilities!” I smiled.
“But everybody in this bunker will play a part in creating the dessert for the banquet in honor of the Beluga Clan’s victory yesterday.”
“Okay. Then, what is the tragedy?”
“Well, that means we are food, Bullet...”
Constanza Lovesick explained that our room was like a storage cellar full of the best ingredients for the weekly celebrations. Those who couldn’t be honored to be a part of the dish (because of health status) would be sent to the Slave Market in the Back Block Province. When I asked Constanza Lovesick how she got here, she only sobbed.I wasn’t ready to give up. I started walking around the tables, hoping to find a solution.
Two desires — two invisible wings — raise our human spirit above everything else: the desire to live and the desire for the truth. We naturally want to live forever, but the laws of our universe (or Mother Nature) do not permit eternal life. This knowledge leaves us abandoned, but with a burning desire to achieve immortality one day.
We crave the truth from others but often forget about ourselves. The voice of selfishness points out our daily (sometimes, very small) lies, which prevent us from living in the full truth, and this can lead to premature death, especially in places like the Warrior Farm or the Beluga Clan.
Thus, lies keep us in its jaws, offering us a carefree life in return, but slowly — drop by drop... And we are happy. We accept it.
But if there is no real, true us, then there will be no life, and there will be no one and nothing to learn, build, or love. There will be no evil and no truth. Even the need for the ego will disappear… hm.
Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d like to continue to live, and I’d lie with great joy if I had to. My desire to live is much stronger than my desire for truth!
I stopped running in circles and whispered through my teeth, “Animals! I refuse to be someone’s food!”
“What can we do? The reason humanity exists is food, but the purpose of our existence is reproduction," remarked an old man with gray whiskers at the other end of the table.
And then it dawned on me — of course, reproduction. Maybe I could still save myself from an early death of becoming some collagen additive in a dessert served to the monsters of the Beluga Clan. I decided to offer my anaconda’s skills in exchange for my freedom.
With that in mind, I jumped on the bench and yelled with all my might, “What are we living for, people? What is the purpose of our lives?”
"Look at this damn philosopher; shut up already," a hundred voices hissed from all sides.
A naïve part of me continued to yell, “Listen to your nature! What is your nature asking for? For love! Let’s make love!”
Four firm hands interrupted my performance, dragged my resisting body out of the room, and threw me into a dark dungeon. The cell was filled with a strange liquid — some kind of marinade. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata played from the speaker in the corner. A deep nostalgia for the Warrior Farm and regret for being such a bad doctor to the women with LKED problems washed over me like a wave.
I understood, the Beluga Clan had made their decision: I’m going to die. Tears rolled down my face. My short journey in search of Sobekneferu ended in the realm of death. But I did not want to die alone...
In that second, I made a promise to myself: before I die, I’ll take at least one villain from the Beluga Clan with me to the world of the Duat.
Moans, sobs, and howls from neighboring cells convinced me that the only way to gain salvation was through murder — the only proper punishment for the wicked. You know me, you’ve followed me on my journey... You understand I didn't want to kill anyone, but the laws of this country had created a demon-like creature, and I was ready to fight for my life.
I was hungry and thirsty, so I began my confrontation by sipping salty water in the room, and in the end, I drank so much that there was nothing left.
The door opened, and a husky female voice asked, “Are you Harmless, the famous heavyweight lifter from Rsa city?”
“Whaaat?” I hiccupped.
“Ms. Glorious sent me… She told my brother, commander in chief of our army, that you were famous in the Rsa because you could lift anything you wanted.”
“Am I?”
“By the way, where’s the marinade?” The pretty female guard looked perplexed.
“I hid it.”
“Wow… How? What are you, Mister?”
“I am, my darling girl, a magician. I can lift or hide anything I want. Would you like to take part in an experiment?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling.
I smiled back and put my hands on her waist.
At that moment, someone spat on my back. The same person kicked me in the leg with a metallic boot and said, “Nice move, pigeon!”
I turned around to see my opponent. Above me stood a cyborg woman dressed in a man’s suit, holding a long silver whip in her hand.
She muttered something through her teeth and spat again, this time on my bare chest. The other female guard ran out of the room, leaving me alone with the malicious beast.
“Mr. Vegas would like a quick chat,” the female cyborg said.
“M-m-mister?”
“Yes.”
“You must be mistaken, my lovely lady...” I reached out to touch my enemy in the narrow, damp hall.
“Shut up and walk ahead; otherwise, I'll have to gag you.”
“Please do because I refuse to follow your orders, Miss … umm, what’s your name?”
This post explores the philosophical and scientific battle against death, from Fedorov's cosmic resurrection and Metchnikoff's yogurt-fueled longevity campaign to Kundera's bleak portrait of individuality dissolving into gesture and image.
Tensions rise within the Serial Killer Crime Unit as Panetta grapples with internal conflicts, team dysfunction, and a chilling new lead in Eva Levi’s murder
A surreal and comic chapter where Bullet, shaken and half-delirious, stumbles between reality and hallucination while searching for meaning, love, and escape...
Welcome to the serialized story of Mr. Harmless Bullet! For the audio version - scroll down. Genre: satire, absurdist comedy, dark adult humor (16+ only)
Written with the Tristan Tzara method - read about it here
Complete story, chapter by chapter:
CHAPTER 39. BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH
When the bag was removed from my head, the first thing that caught my eye was a chain of long tables with hundreds of people sitting in companionable silence. Most of them were rocking back and forth as if in a trance.
“What’s up?” I asked cheerfully.
My hoarse voice scared a young man on the bench closest to the door. He sank down to the floor on all fours and crawled on his stomach to the wall. To say I was shocked by his behavior would be an understatement.
I was still recovering from this strange incident when a heavy hand patted me on my left shoulder. The hand belonged to Constanza Lovesick. I jumped up, alerted by her compassionate action.
“Sorry,” she said, biting her lip. “I thought I imagined things. It couldn’t be Bullet, I said to myself. But here you are...”
“Yes, here I am, alive and transcending positivity of the highest level.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean a) I don’t understand how I got here, b) nobody warned me about this place, and c) why hang around and feel like a sucker or complain about how unfair life is when the room is full of beautiful people such as yourself, Constanza.” I touched her soft cheeks and added, “You and I could transform this room together.”
“How?”
“There are tons of possibilities!” I smiled.
“But everybody in this bunker will play a part in creating the dessert for the banquet in honor of the Beluga Clan’s victory yesterday.”
“Okay. Then, what is the tragedy?”
“Well, that means we are food, Bullet...”
Constanza Lovesick explained that our room was like a storage cellar full of the best ingredients for the weekly celebrations. Those who couldn’t be honored to be a part of the dish (because of health status) would be sent to the Slave Market in the Back Block Province. When I asked Constanza Lovesick how she got here, she only sobbed.I wasn’t ready to give up. I started walking around the tables, hoping to find a solution.
Two desires — two invisible wings — raise our human spirit above everything else: the desire to live and the desire for the truth. We naturally want to live forever, but the laws of our universe (or Mother Nature) do not permit eternal life. This knowledge leaves us abandoned, but with a burning desire to achieve immortality one day.
We crave the truth from others but often forget about ourselves. The voice of selfishness points out our daily (sometimes, very small) lies, which prevent us from living in the full truth, and this can lead to premature death, especially in places like the Warrior Farm or the Beluga Clan.
Thus, lies keep us in its jaws, offering us a carefree life in return, but slowly — drop by drop... And we are happy. We accept it.
But if there is no real, true us, then there will be no life, and there will be no one and nothing to learn, build, or love. There will be no evil and no truth. Even the need for the ego will disappear… hm.
Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d like to continue to live, and I’d lie with great joy if I had to. My desire to live is much stronger than my desire for truth!
I stopped running in circles and whispered through my teeth, “Animals! I refuse to be someone’s food!”
“What can we do? The reason humanity exists is food, but the purpose of our existence is reproduction," remarked an old man with gray whiskers at the other end of the table.
And then it dawned on me — of course, reproduction. Maybe I could still save myself from an early death of becoming some collagen additive in a dessert served to the monsters of the Beluga Clan. I decided to offer my anaconda’s skills in exchange for my freedom.
With that in mind, I jumped on the bench and yelled with all my might, “What are we living for, people? What is the purpose of our lives?”
"Look at this damn philosopher; shut up already," a hundred voices hissed from all sides.
A naïve part of me continued to yell, “Listen to your nature! What is your nature asking for? For love! Let’s make love!”
Four firm hands interrupted my performance, dragged my resisting body out of the room, and threw me into a dark dungeon. The cell was filled with a strange liquid — some kind of marinade. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata played from the speaker in the corner. A deep nostalgia for the Warrior Farm and regret for being such a bad doctor to the women with LKED problems washed over me like a wave.
I understood, the Beluga Clan had made their decision: I’m going to die. Tears rolled down my face. My short journey in search of Sobekneferu ended in the realm of death. But I did not want to die alone...
In that second, I made a promise to myself: before I die, I’ll take at least one villain from the Beluga Clan with me to the world of the Duat.
Moans, sobs, and howls from neighboring cells convinced me that the only way to gain salvation was through murder — the only proper punishment for the wicked. You know me, you’ve followed me on my journey... You understand I didn't want to kill anyone, but the laws of this country had created a demon-like creature, and I was ready to fight for my life.
I was hungry and thirsty, so I began my confrontation by sipping salty water in the room, and in the end, I drank so much that there was nothing left.
The door opened, and a husky female voice asked, “Are you Harmless, the famous heavyweight lifter from Rsa city?”
“Whaaat?” I hiccupped.
“Ms. Glorious sent me… She told my brother, commander in chief of our army, that you were famous in the Rsa because you could lift anything you wanted.”
“Am I?”
“By the way, where’s the marinade?” The pretty female guard looked perplexed.
“I hid it.”
“Wow… How? What are you, Mister?”
“I am, my darling girl, a magician. I can lift or hide anything I want. Would you like to take part in an experiment?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling.
I smiled back and put my hands on her waist.
At that moment, someone spat on my back. The same person kicked me in the leg with a metallic boot and said, “Nice move, pigeon!”
I turned around to see my opponent. Above me stood a cyborg woman dressed in a man’s suit, holding a long silver whip in her hand.
She muttered something through her teeth and spat again, this time on my bare chest. The other female guard ran out of the room, leaving me alone with the malicious beast.
“Mr. Vegas would like a quick chat,” the female cyborg said.
“M-m-mister?”
“Yes.”
“You must be mistaken, my lovely lady...” I reached out to touch my enemy in the narrow, damp hall.
“Shut up and walk ahead; otherwise, I'll have to gag you.”
“Please do because I refuse to follow your orders, Miss … umm, what’s your name?”
“Sobekneferu,” the cyborg replied and spat again.
Oh, Destiny, why are you so cruel to me?!..
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