hehters

you see, like haters gonna hate, hehters gonna heh. hehters don't despise you, they simply never care about you and nevertheless always find the time to throw a “heh” in your face. did something bad happen? “heh, you are such a failure of a man”. or is it something good that happened? “heh, i can do everything so much better than you”. they don't want neither your aggression nor tears. they only want to mess with you.

i knew a hehter once. his name was mike stewpeed and he was my classmate. we were running for a bus that was leaving the station one day when i tripped over a twig and fell on the ground. mike caught up with my body covered in autumn leaves and laughing his ass off tried to finish me with a “heh”. yeah, that was exactly the time he got heh-sick. i managed to quickly counter-attack mike's words by saying “no, you heh yourself” and thus making my classmate furiously angry. i swear at that moment he was the devil himself, a frenchman if you prefer. “just take the heh, you mongo!” i was 14 years old, a savage teen dangerously stubborn to merely let it go and surrender in heh-battle.

– aren't you heh'd too, mike? we both missed the bus, fool!
– heh.
– that's not funny at all.

that really wasn't funny at all. we were already getting late for a math test and it was pretty obvious that mrs. mathson won't be happy with us skipping her lesson again. we arrived at school on foot and of course mrs. mathson was waiting for us in the main hall.

– mike stewpeed! jake clumsington! i'm tired enough with your carelessness. you've totally earned detention, boys!
– heh, detention. looks like we are fucked, jake.

god, if i knew more about this sickness of mike then. i would for sure act a little bit differently.

shocked at mike's improper behaviour and foul language mrs. mathson unintentionally mixed “what” and “wait” into a bizarre “whaaaaaait” setting mike off laughing. she started screaming and scattering spit over our faces.

– mike stewpeed, are you out of your mind? am i being funny?

she wasn't being funny at all. yet mike was literally rolling on the floor laughing his head off.

– heh, you are red and mad, i like it.
– mike, stop it. missis mathson, please, don't listen to him. heh back!

she didn't heh back. maybe if she had at least tried to, mike would be a normal person now, uninfected. he heh'd through his entire detention, heh'd his life out, wasting the days spitting hehs to his boss, wife and children. mike died a month ago and here i am standing by his gravestone with an inscription on it that reads “here lays mike stewpeed. heh”. i awfully want to heh, i feel the “heh” crawling from my mouth to end the life of misery. the problem is i think there's fairly no one left unheh'd in the world of mine. are you with me? do you even exist? i beg you... answer somehow.

hehters gonna heh to death until an uninfected person hits them hard with “heh” exactly three times. that's the cure, the way to save my kind from extinction. although if you are reading this, it's probably too late. no buses are coming to pick me up. except a death bus. heh, death.