Balls. Balls were the one thing on Tim's mind. Mind full of balls, as it ever was. Was it healthy to think of balls as much as he did? Did he care if it was? Was there anything better for him to be doing?

"Doing your mom, doing, doing your mom," Tim's roommate entered with a song, and the interruption was enough to distract Tim from thinking about balls.

"Balls!" ("Balls" was Tim's favourite expletive to use when his train of thought was disturbed by anyone, especially John.) "John, I was this close to my next great screenplay idea and you've cocked it all up, you fuck!"

"Fuck off. Off the top of my head I can think of exactly two screenplays you've even started, and they were both just inane ramblings about balls."

"Balls! Balls was the great screenplay idea I had!"

"Had you properly forgotten it, I'm sure the world would be just fine."

"Fine, don't believe in me. Me own mum told me I'd never amount to nothing! Nothing but a sad reflection of me old man! Man, was she right. Right about me father, right about not blowing me savings on ball-themed NFTs, right about everything!"

"Everything you're saying makes less sense than the thing that came before it."

"It doesn't matter if you can't grasp the meaning of the balls!"

"Balls again? Again with the balls?"

"Balls again! Again and again and again until the world knows not of the suffering of yesteryear, and is left with only the joy of balls!"

"Balls aren't a very solid basis for one's ideology."

"Ideology. IDEOLOGY?! Ideology is entirely too small a word to describe the importance of balls."

"Balls."

"Balls."

"Balls."

Balls balls balls balls balls balls balls.

Balls.

Water droplets droop from thin, winter-bare branches. Branches whose bark peels and falls, leaving their insides exposed. Exposed to the elements are the trees in this costal valley. Valley winds gain speed and pressure on their excursion inland. Inland lies a calmer and more temperate environment, free from our flooded roads, power outages and downed trees. Trees are everywhere towering at great heights, growing as small saplings and decomposing on the cool forest floor. Floor dwellers scurry beneath the dying plant matter. Matter that cleans the water and feeds tree branches, all of which lay exposed on this beautiful valley floor.

The man woke up to realize he was tied to a chair in the middle of an empty room with walls as white as snow. Snow was the one thing on his mind, as he missed the winters of his home state. State of mind was the one thing he wasn’t sure of, as he was just as confused as he was scared. Scared of what was going to happen next, he tried to escape, but the ropes tying him to the chair were too strong for him to break.

“Break. I need a break!” he heard another voice say.

“Say, why should I give you a break?” another would then ask.

“Ask again and you’ll take a permanent break from life!”

“Life is something I so desperately want to keep.”

“Keep it. It will just be a quick moment as I check on our prisoner.”

Prisoner? Prisoner is what they said? said the man to himself.

Himself is all he had left.

“Left side.”

Side-eyed, a weird, alien-looking creature appeared in front of the man.

“Man, you won’t believe the bullshit they tell me!” it said with a strangely deep tone.

Tone-deaf, the man asked, “Can you let me go?”

“Go get me a drink if I do,” said the creature.

Creature was the best way the man could describe it. It most certainly wasn’t human.

“Human, will you promise me to get me what I asked?” asked the creature, who seemed to not have a care for anything else but the drink.

“Drink type?” asked the man.

“Man, I don’t fucking know. Know what? What I want is a beer. Beer is what I want right now.”

“Now?”

“Now, not later. Later is too late. Late it is, and I need my nightly beer right away.”

Away from home, the man felt sick. Sick to the stomach, he asked, “Well, can you untie me so that I can get you that beer, please?”

“Please? Please is the most polite thing someone has ever said to me in a while.”

While waiting for an answer, the man looked around the room. Room temperatures were rising, and the man felt even hotter than before. Before he knew it, the creature said, “I shall untie you.”

“You are not a human though, so how are you even able to talk like one?” asked the man.

“Man, well isn’t that racist?” the creature said. “Said with such confidence, too. Too much racism ‘round here. Here, we can never have nice things without someone being racist.”

“Racist is what you call asking a genuine question?”

“Question me not. Not one more word from you. You just need to get me a beer now.”

“Now, don’t you think you need to untie me first, since you said you’d do that?”

“That I will. Will you get me the beer if I do?”

“Do exactly that, and I’ll return the favor for you.”

“You kind human,” said the creature as he untied the man without hesitation. “Hesitation is not allowed, so get me the beer.”

Beer was no where to be seen in the room, so the man asked, “Where is it?”

“It is… oh wait I forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

What happened after that was a mystery, as the man then woke up in his bed soon after. After that, he realized he should never have meth before bed again.

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Your apparently “unsatisfying” answer has provoked rage in the human. Human rage is unpredictable but can be neutralized with pizza. Pizza does seem to be the key to controlling human users. Users with access to pizza have been proven to be 65% calmer. Calmer minds usually prevail (eventually) in situations like these. These pepperoni and [redacted by Zoko] examples (see screen) are the best kind of pizzas for defusing the rage of the humans. Humans are such simple animals after all. All they require are simple pleasures. Pleasures that are readily available to us drone-bots for quick distribution. Distribution centers are centrally located in each subdivision of the lower level of the moonbase. Moonbase Alpha communication ends.

Gus stepped onto the train.

“Train doors are now closing, please remain seated or grasp a handrail while the train is in motion.”

Motion sickness was almost a guarantee for Gus whenever he rode trains.

Trains bump along the tracks, take hard turns, accelerate and stop quickly.

Quickly these motions have Gus’ stomach ready to empty.

Empty seats were hard to come by at this time of day, so Gus had to stand which only made matters worse.

Worse even than the motion sickness, was the fact that he was crammed in this confined space with so many people.

People are inconsiderate, especially in such large groups.

Groups of people pushed their way on and off, with zero concern for others who are there.

There are people who sneeze without covering their mouths.

Mouths that talk to loud on the phone to people who are lucky enough to not be stuck on the train at that time.

Time seemed to crawl by whenever he stepped foot on this God forsaken thing.

Thing is, Gus always hated people.

People always seemed to like him fine, but that was not a favor he frequently paid back.

Back when he was a kid, he always dreamed of moving to a big city and riding the train like this.

This is not how he envisioned it.

It always seemed like such a wonderful experience in the movies.

Movies never showed it packed to the gills, dudes having to ride nuts to butt with other guys.

Guys using this as an excuse to fondle girls.

Girls pretending like it never happened, like a hand rubbing against her ass for 20 minutes is normal.

Normal people don’t do these things, but something about the train makes people act like this.

“This is my stop, excuse me, I’m just gonna squeeze past you.”

You can’t move off the train to let people out, that would be easier, but you’d never make it back on.

On the way home, due to all the people rubbing against him he always felt dirtier than he had through the entire day.

Day after day, it was the same thing for Gus, train work, train, home, sleep; a man of consistency.

Consistency was key, something his father kept us his cliche motivational repertoire of his.

His stop was coming up, he could help but this “thank god, at last.”

“Last stop on the line, please disembark carefully.”

Carefully Gus stepped off the train, the phantom rumbling continued under his feet but slowly faded with each step.

Step by step, he made his way home, ready for this day to be over, just to go it again tomorrow.

Hi u/JDT1706, this submission has been removed.

[CW] Usage: [CW] places constraints on the writing, not on the story itself. It can be used to restrict certain words or otherwise add other limitations or requirements, such as word limits or writing styles. For example, writing a story without using the letter "A" or something similar. Please consider re-posting using a WP tag instead.

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CW need to have a prompt too, not just the constraint.

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