But was coffee really to blame? I stalked the ruins of burnt-out homes, delved into twisted downtown spires stretching tens of stories to the side like stoned yoga students, with wept glass scattered at their feet. I had to find the answers. Spelunking into NORAD underneath Colorado, I finally learned the truth: Mr. Coffee was innocent! Innocent, I tell you! It was TheWeirdChik that left this world a grey hairless cat with severe skin allergies!

I then mused, horrified as I clutched my head: what mutant beast could have wrought such devastation? Such unholy evil? A nearby terminal's taskbar flashed like an S.O.S. I clicked on the button. The same taskbar button flashed across every monitor that still worked.

I began to read the dead mutant blog hulk. I stopped reading 30 minutes later.

There were complete sentences, fair vocabulary... but the content, the content. Entry after entry I was met with detailed updates about the social and romantic lives of people I didn't give two shits about, half of which this girl barely knew. The back-biting, the bittersweet pain of being dumped for someone that was "so totally hotter, she said anyway," small arguments, large arguments spanning page after page. I was back in high school listening to people explode with emotion as a fly farted across their brows, setting off a chain reaction bursting into who the fly really liked, if the fly was just playin' them all with his farting or if he was just misunderstood, wondering and wandering around in his own hexagonally-lensed world that we could really learn if we only listened more.

My so-called life slowly ceased in my veins as ice crystals began to form in my bloodstream. I felt groggy as I clicked over day summations, sound bytes of half sentences describing how she felt about something:

Well, according to people, my last layout was fine. I was talking to Aisha in IM, and she said that, that girl was a dumbass. She also said "a 2 year old could find my links." Whatever. (Although, it's true). Methodus was being a bitch today. It wouldn't let me upload shit. And, my brother fucked up my dad's computer. I couldn't view my .html files. What a dumbass.

Doleful teenage poison seeped into my brain, down mytoes, rotting off digits like gangrenous sores. My vision cut out as the piranha madness ate away my entire occipital brain lobe. I screamed a whisper while vomiting blood. Would the world recover? Would it know such devastation as the now dead TheWeirdChick: bereft of imagination, real insight, any sort of non-summary writing in the millions of years to come? I heard an English voice behind me comment, "Yeah, she's movin' on to a new blog there! Smashing, yeah!" My brain seizured and ceased to function, a single word pursuing my lips in agonizing sadness: Rosebud.

A fly landed on the tip of my nose and laughed before gracefully farting.