You can’t stop the future from happening. You can only alter the reality of it. That’s where I come in. I’m a philosopher genius. I can effect change.
My real name is Jonathan Wilbert, but everyone calls me Johnny Oops because I’m a clumsy twelve-years-old who is always knocking things over and saying, “Oops.” I may have the gangly body of a 5 foot 2 inch tall 95-pound awkward boy, but I have the mind of a genius. My I. Q. is off the wall. I’m not one of those nerdy mathematical geniuses or a piano impresario. I’m a philosopher genius on the style of Nietze or perhaps Freud. He hated mothers too, didn’t he? My father is a political science professor at Yale University. He holds some kind of Chair or something. I say why bother. My mother has a PHD from Radcliff College in Behavioral Science. She hates me because I interrupted her career; fat chance of that being the truth. She thinks I’m strange. I guess she thinks she learned something from all those liberal arts courses she took in college. I’m not strange; I’m just different. I try and act like a normal twelve-year-old boy, but it isn’t working. I hate soccer. Playing the trumpet in the band makes my lips swell up, and the idea of watching cartoons with the other kids on the block really turns me off. I’m a philosopher genius. When I grow up I’m going to be one of the leading intellects of my time. For now I have more important things to do with myself than watch Bugs Bunny say, “What’s Up Doc?” What does that mean? It’s a stupid passé children’s colloquialism that will do nothing to change the chaotic state of the world we live in and the one I have to grow up in. I can’t be expected to diddle away my precious time on such trivial pursuits. I have deep serious thinking to do. I have a contribution to make to the welfare of our society and it’s not going to be as some stupid observer of an imbecilic animation even if it’s in color and sonic vision. Deep down inside me I know I have promise. I am going to be someone special. I’m going to be a Guru of great renown. I’m a genius.
Speaking of dideling and changing things, I just had my first experience with sex. It was great. The best part is I can do it alone. I don’t need any girl to help out. I certainly don’t want to make any girl a mother. I read about how that works. The baby might turn out like my mother. I don’t want that kind of guilt on my hands. That would be awful.
“No Mom nothings wrong, I’m OK, just a little diarrhea. I’ll be out of the bathroom in a minute, I’m coming.”
Anyway, this is what happened. I woke up early because I had to pee - too much root beer before I went to sleep I guess. I passed my parents room on the way to the bathroom. The door was open and I heard sounds so I looked in. It was grotesque. They were both naked. My father was on top of my mother and he was shoving his penis into her. It must have hurt her a lot because she was moaning. My Dad looked happy. He didn’t seem to care about her pain. That’s what’s wrong with the world. Nobody seems to care about anything any more, not even when they are causing someone else pain. I noticed his penis was really swollen. I couldn’t observe for too long. The scene was making me sick and I had to pee, so I went on to the bathroom. By the time I got there something was happening to my penis. It was getting swollen like my Dad’s and I didn’t have to pee anymore so I started rubbing it. That felt good. The more I rubbed the bigger it got, and then Oops, all of a sudden it exploded. White goo flew all over the toilet seat and the wall. It was the best feeling I ever had. It was my nirvana. It showed me how terrific life could be. It gave me hope for the future. I don’t know how I knew to do that. It must be the subconscious mind of a philosopher genius asserting itself, but wow was it great. Now I finally know I have a purpose. I wanted to do it again right away, but my penis started shrinking. We geniuses have to learn to live with minor setbacks. After a while I discovered I could do it again. I just had to give it a rest. If I had my way I would spend all day in the bathroom, but the philosopher genius in me took over.
“Johnny you can’t waste all your time having sex with yourself,” I said to myself. “You have more important things to do than to spend all your time jerking off. You’ll sap your strength, and won’t be able to invent the great philosophies you have stashed away in your head. You are something special. You have a contribution to make to society. You have promise.”
So I decided to ration myself to three times a day and no more than a half an hour at a time. We all have to make sacrifices for the greater good. Otherwise the world is going to stay in the crapper forever. It’s not my fault that I’m precocious and started to masturbate early. Philosopher geniuses are physically more mature then other kids their age.
“Mother I said I was coming. I just have to wipe off the wall. I threw up. I’m sick. I don’t think I can go to school today.”
“No Mom I don’t need any help. I can clean up by myself. I’m a big boy now.”
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