Today, in a hilariously ironic twist of fate, you’re going to crawl up the spine of Stephen Hawking and attach yourself to the motherlode of all fucking brains. You’re going to fasten yourself hard and fasten yourself fast and stick there and suck, suck, suck. You’ll suck so hard, in fact, that you’ll suck the neuro-muscular dystrophy right out of his body and have him up out of that wheelchair and dancing within a matter of hours.
Stephen will write a series of papers about how physics define just how great you are and quantify in a manner that makes it potentially infinite without necessarily being infinite in the even that a means by which to measure your awesomeness is devised. He’ll make you the toast of the town, with your name being sung and celebrated from every corner of the globe. You’ll have undone one of the greatest injustices that nature has ever visited upon the world, and you’ll have gotten fat doing it.
We just hope that tomorrow, when you send a copy of Time Magazine with your picture of it as “Parasite of the Year” along with a handwritten note from Stephen Hawking which reads, simply, fuck you old man, you’ll be gracious when your dad calls you and tries to make up with you. There’s no way of knowing if he genuinely feels bad or if he’s just trying to cash in on your fame, but you should let him in anyways. It’s not like he has a lot going for him right now anyhow.
Congratulations Brain Parasite!
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