"Back in 1995, I was a mischievous, lonely, scared teenager. I’d no hope for the future, and no will to gather said hope. I was a goner; floating in a world of which I hadn’t a clue about, of which I hadn’t an obvious need for. All of the hopes that I’d had where diminished, leaving me and my will to destroy only being quenched by the things of which I did mutilate, and while my mind had still tore me away from inflicting pain on other living beings, I instead decided that I would inflict harm on the things that they held dearest: their property. This was my life before order. This was my life before morals. This was my life... before... God. One night in the fall of 1995 I'd stumbled across a barn owned by my distant family. The farmhouse of which it lay next to currently unoccupied, so I grabbed by trusty crowbar and expected some mindless destruction to quench the thirst for destruction resonating so sharply beneath my skin... but what I got... what I’d received was so much more valuable."
"As I peeked inside of the structure, I became entirely entranced in a vast state of astuteness; my breath fogging the glass as I analyzed the interior. Once I’d decided that the coast was clear, I bashed my crowbar through the window creating an abrupt, yet nonetheless alluring crash. I breathed shallow, short breaths as I cleared out the rest of the window before strategically hopping into the barn, avoiding injury as my legs landed deep inside of a loose hay bale. I was in, and I had my eye on the prize."
"A 1969 Chevrolet Chevelle. Mint condition, buffed out with a V8 engine and a paint job with purple base contrasting with the orange flames spreading on the sides. My cousin had always kept this here, I supposed, for it seems like more of a secluded place than in his own home garage back in the slums. With a quick breath and a shake of my head, I bolted towards the car and began my work, starting with the windshield and not stopping until my arms refused to work, or... or..."
"...or until I spotted something extremely out of the ordinary. A black garbage bag with literal caution tape surrounding it, outlined by the glow lingering from the beams illuminating from the streetlights outside. At first I’d tried to ignore it. I’d break a headlight, or smash a tail light, or poke holes through the door, but the ominous hovering of the bag sprawled out in the darkness of the night was somehow even more compelling than my then-natural want for destruction."
As I made my way closer to the bag, a growing feeling of serenity encased me, sealing all of my doubts in an enclosure of light in the darkness of which the act of destruction entailed. Oh how all of the calamities that had taken place in the past month simply washed away as I approached this bag. I became less afraid of the contents, and more excited of the possibilities. In near silence, with only the percussion of my feet rhythmically scraping the ground, I heard the melody of which I had always wanted to hear. One of hope, one of light, and one of which I now stood upon.
Crouching down now, shaking in excitement for what was about to come, I untied the grey straps which kept the bag intact. And inside the bag, were the prophecies of the heavens, for I was still in awe as 14 beach balls poured out of the bag right in front of my eyes, rolling gracefully until friction pulled them down. This, my friends, was when I learned that god was real.
"I stared at these treasures breathless as tears began to form in my eyes... I simply couldn’t fathom the possibility that in this dungeon of darkness lay something as awe-inspiring and impossibly beautiful as a garbage bag full of turtle tits, and yet there I was, standing in front of what I’d just untied."
"After that, it was almost as though god had spoken down to a filthy inferior mortal like myself giving me instructions on how to live my life no longer burdened by freedom, but in the peaceful micromanaging overanalyzing hyper-moral hypocritical standards of god, and I loved and appreciated every minute of that. I now hated myself so much that I felt inferior to everyone who didn’t have the same belief set as me, and so I strived to make things right."
"First, I flew out to Japan. I brought a green alien hat, and some other essential supplies. Deciding that a trip to the peaceful and meditative Aokigahara forest would suit my new ideologies. I was hoping to find myself or even someone else hanging. I thought about this as I drifted asleep, and miraculously, when I’d awoken, I found myself... in Japan! I finally found myself! So I said screw the vlog, screw the jokes about the deceased (pardon my language, lord). I can always make it up by tasing dead rats in the future... I want to start my own company..."
"And so I did. Tis’ the beginning of Barry’s Beach Ball Bazungas, and it was an instant success. A success to a point that wherever you went in Japan, you would see one. It got to a point where my story spread to Japan’s Chucke Cheese which quickly got changed to Chucke Jeez after I killed and tased the mascot. They changed all of the ball pit balls to beach balls. Sadly, this didn’t last long because the ten thousand used heroin needles at the bottom ended up popping every single one of the balls but that’s okay because my religion taught the children to forgive and forget the fate of our ever depleting sanity in this broken society. But there are aspects of freedom to this faith too, like how you get to choose whom god is to you."
"So after I became a billionaire off of selling beach balls and culture shock to children, I locked myself in a room for 6 months trying to become closer to God whilst forgetting about my own safety/sanity and it worked! It turns out that my version of God is a killer whale with a blowhole the size and depth of Mount St. Helens that squirts Capri Sun every time the whale gets euphoric while screaming Capri Sun’s famous catchphrase “Looks like water, tastes like garbage” in the voice of a BO2 squeaker until it gets laryngitis. And that’s okay. I accept that as long as it doesn’t have homosexual tendencies."
"And ever since then, I remain reminded of the day that I’d first found the bag of bouncy ocean eggs. I remember that whenever I turn on the news to find that there are activists trying to shut down my company for creating 76% of the plastic in the ocean and causing Japanese angelsharks to go extinct. Seeing these stories makes me think of what will happen after death."
"I always fantasized that when I die, I would become the chum that the SeaWorld trainers throw into the water while forcing innocent, previously-free animals to perform tricks against their will for a loud and stressful audience. I always fantasized that I would be the wall that God, the killer whale, would smash his head into causing a slow painful death. I’m sure he could forgive me."
"But for now, I remain a man among this world. One that has been gifted a new outlook on life by that simple day that I was shown the tide’s testicles, and so I leave you with one final note... the word of god. 'Of thou who have been burdened by fear that shall find thy bag of righteousness shan’t deny it, for it is against my word and I don’t really like when you have questions, so shut up and consent already' - Life himself."