The Story of an Object - This Does Not End Well

Humans really are terrible people.

I would know.

After all, they made me.

And I blow.316Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH8cXIjubJl

Up, that is.

Hah. I made a joke.

Is it morbid to make a joke about blowing up?316Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyJTEzlXRHc

Odd.

I didn't used to think about these things.

I didn't used to think.

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Ow. What's that noise. It's really loud, and super irritating. And these red lights are flashing everywhere. And these humans dressed in simple gray outfits are running about everywhere.

They are really very silly.

But that doesn't make them any less terrible.

Or does it? Were they silly enough not to know what I could do?

Does that absolve them of making me?

Of making a thing that's entire purpose was destroy?

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I'm flying.

I've always wanted to fly.

And now I am.

They pressed a button, and I flew.

Like an angel of death.

A Little Boy soaring through the air.

A Tsar of deadly force.

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I see them. They look so happy, dancing. It's a festival of some sort. They're short, with almond-shaped eyes.

And I'm flying toward them.

Fast.

And now I land.

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And -

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BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!

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Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds.

ns216.73.216.32da2

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