Every day it's the same but not today because today is moving day! That’s right, the big day is finally here, the big day you move to The Big Apple; today you are moving to New York City! Finally you get to brush off the dust of your 1-horse town! Finally you get to go to art school! You rush up the stairs of your dorm to meet your new roommate. What will she be like? Will you be best friends?! You burst through the door of your dorm room to find your roommate’s corpse hanging from a light fixture in the center of the room, a note pinned to her breast. You cautiously approach the swinging cadaver…you snatch the note. It reads simply, “Life sucks and then you die.” Can’t argue with that. In fact, life DOES suck for you at your new school, even art school goths don’t want to get close to you after your roommate iced herself on the first day of classes. You suffer through 3 weeks as the school pariah before you give up and move back to your 1-horse town, cast out by the outcasts. As you ride your bike to your job at the bakery at 3 a.m. you listen to W3 Thr33 Tr0lls and ponder what could’ve been…

Every day it's the same: You march 3 miles closer to the grave, all alone as you feel your way through the darkness... Your parents don't understand you. Your teachers think you are a lost cause. Your preacher turns his back to you when you ask for his help. And your friends? What friends? You envy the West Memphis 3 because even though they spent decades in prison AT LEAST THEY HAD FRIENDS!!! Your only "friend" is your iPod. Your friend the iPod only has 34 episodes of a single podcast on it: W3 Thr33 Tr0lls. It's the only friend you'll ever need.

Every day it’s the same except today because today is your birthday! You’re 33 years old today. Jesus was 33 when they crucified him, how much longer until they crucify YOU...? You procure from your overalls the pocket knife your father gave you when you were 13. It’s the only thing your father gave you, besides a predisposition for blood cancer. You admire the blade for a moment. You bring the blade to your thigh & start slicing. You slice off a strip of flesh for every year you’ve been alive, 33 slices in all. You feed the slices to the feral cats who live in your barn...then you stumble out to the lake, iPod in hand. You hide under an overturned boat & wait for death to come get you as W3 Thr33 Tr0lls blares into your ears. Happy birthday to you!

It’s hot, feels like a sneak preview of hell. It’s so hot old people are dying from the heat. The sun beats down like a billy club. No relief in sight. No relief to be found anywhere, as every oasis has been burned to the ground. The murder rate goes up during the summer months because it’s so hot; this summer will be no different. You’ll have plenty of work to do before Fall saves us all. You hide in the freezer during your lunch. Your coworkers at the morgue call you a freak for that but whatevs, let them sweat it out in the break room while you laze in the frigid air with the recently perished. You take another bite from your bologna sandwich. You chew it up. You don’t need to eat lunch with your coworkers anyway; you’ve got W3 Thr33 Tr0lls to keep you company!

The wind howls, shaking the trees. The sky blackens like an all too ripened banana. Your face is momentarily illuminated by a bolt of lightning as it slashes the sky. It is Wednesday, hump day, your favorite day, for Wednesday is the day new episodes of W3 Thr33 Tr0lls are put online. You sit at your computer, refreshing iTunes over and over…thunder cracks the summer night like a whip as the lightning illuminates your face once again, revealing a single tear as it races down your pimpled puss…why must they make you wait…? Why must the waiting hurt so bad? You click refresh once more…success! Episode #31 is finally online! ‘Bout damn time, you think as the download commences and the tears dry up…you close your eyes and shut off your brain; W3 Thr33 Tr0lls is doin’ the driving tonight!

You’re 15 and you hate EVERYTHING. Every day it’s the same: go to school where everyone hates you then go to work where everyone hates you then go home where everyone hates you too. You are a kissless virgin in a world full of Chads. Your only friend is 4chan (8chan is too edgy for you). You use 4chan as a substitute for a personality. You use all their catchphrases as your own and anyone who doesn’t like it can BTFO and kys. You jump on the Trump Train, choo choo! Pepe speaks to your soul; you draw him on your notebooks, prompting the other students to call you a Nazi. Now it’s prom season. The prom queen only won her crown because she visited L.A. last summer and a video she made of herself tossing a used tampon on President Trump’s star on the Walk of Fame went viral…Trump defamed on the Walk of Fame AGAIN, how low will these people sink? You decide to teach all the haters and losers a lesson, you decide to do some IRL shitposting: You decide to wear your Make America Great Again hat to the prom. You’re going solo, of course, but in a way you will be going with your friends from 4chan, as you have promised to post updates throughout the night. You only post 1 update that night; in fact, you don’t even make it into the auditorium! In the parking lot you are surrounded by 3 thugs in full Antifa garb. You stutter, “Hey, relax, fellas, I’m not even old enough to vo—!” You don’t finish your statement because a bike lock breaks your jaw in 3 places. Long story short, you are beaten to a bloody pulp and left for dead by your assailants, who become folk heroes at your high school. You’ve been in the hospital for 3 months now and have received exactly zero visitors. Everyone on 4chan who egged you on to wear the hat is indifferent to your plight. You’ve gone completely blind in your right eye. Just for wearing a hat. The morphine drip drips and America is made great again as you slide the headphones over your battered ears and W3 Thr33 Tr0lls pummels your drums…

You’re the king of the campus! At your high school you are a god: girls want to fuck you and, tbh, you’re so fucking hot the other boys want to fuck you too! Your dad does something in banking; you’re set for life. Nothing bad or sinister could possibly happen to you in any way in this story. You bully the weaker students because FUCK THEM, they’re weak. If they have a problem with it, they can take up with God, it’s His will after all. You like to pick on one spazz in particular; he always wears a trenchcoat and he never takes his earbuds out, not even in class. Everyone else leaves him alone because they’re afraid he’ll shoot up the prom but you do not let his weirdness go unpunished. You hate him because he’s an individual; he thinks for himself and that threatens you so you throttle him nearly daily. His free spirit is attractive to you so you beat him harder each time. Every day it’s the same: spazz rolls into class wearing earbuds, refuses to answer when you ask him what he’s listening to…what IS he listening to anyway?! You’ve asked him 3 days in a row now! You’ve got to find out. Next time you pummel him you rip out the earbuds. You pop the earbuds into your ears. You hear W3 Thr33 Tr0lls for the first and last time! Later that evening you hang yourself in your closet; the only way you’ll come out of the closet is dead. W3 thr33 Tr0lls, children: NOT EVEN ONCE!

Summer’s here! The days have gotten longer, the skirts have gotten shorter and it seems as if an ice cream truck’s song can perpetually be heard no matter which way you turn. Street carnivals are popping up everywhere and the beaches are overcrowded with frolicking families. But not your family...your family forgot you existed ages ago. This summer will be just like last summer, just you alone in your mother’s basement with your hobbies, your comic books, your junk food, your childhood obesity and your bitterness, just like every summer come to think of it… Everyone is having fun, enjoying their summer vacations, but not you, never you, you’ve got the summertime blues and there ain’t no cure for it, a bullet in the head notwithstanding. Every day it’s the same: You microwave all your meals. You play vidya and shit-post into the wee hours. You hate women and women hate you. Truly desperate you send a fan letter to W3 Thr33 Tr0lls; they seem to understand…they understand, all right: Wub wipes his ass with your missive and mails it back unread. You have no one. You are no one. You’re one of us now. You are our plus one in hell, you’ll dine at our dinnertable for all of eternity!

Every day it’s the same except today because today is July 4th! Lady Liberty’s b-day! The old gal don’t look a day over 30! And you’re ready to celebrate Lady Lib’s birthday in style, for just last night you took a ride out past the county line to procure yourself an assortment of fireworks. You got firecrackers, black cats, bobcats, zipperheads, wailing wheels, poppers, felchers, sparklers and, your favorite, roman candles. You light the first Roman candle from a safe distance…it doesn’t catch. You move in closer to light it again; this time the wick catches fire but burns out at the base of the presumably faulty firework. You pick up the Roman candle. You peer into it as if it were a periscope. Suddenly a blast of scorching hot fire breaks free from the candle and goes right into your left eye, effectively melting it. You scream. You cry. You gnash your teeth. You are given superpowers!!! Just kidding, your left eye is permanently blinded and you have to wear an eye patch to work every day and your coworkers give you a new nickname: buttpirate. But, hey, at least you have W3 Thr33 Tr0lls to keep you company as you eat your lunch alone for the rest of your miserable life!

Every day it’s the same: You walk alone to school, sit alone at school, walk home alone from school. You are hated by all and most intensely by yourself. Then one day Alexandra appears. Alexandra moves into the house up the block and she walks to school alone every day too. At first Alexandra leaves her house well after you leave yours, silently trailing far behind you along the route to school but as the months wear on, Alexandra times her exit to coincide with your passing of her house. You start walking together and a wholly wholesome friendship grows. Love blossoms not long after. She calls you her secret boyfriend. You are happy as a clam. You're on top of the world. You gladly give her your soul and Alexandra laps it up hungrily. Then one day Maureen Tucker sees you and Alexandra together and she blabs it to EVERYONE and your secret affair is a secret no more and Alexandra's so embarrassed she tells her parents you raped her and you’ve been in juvy three years now and still haven’t made a friend in the whole stinking place, rejected even by the rejects now. Thank God for W3 Thr33 Tr0lls, they’re the only friends you need anyway you tell yourself as you slip the earbuds in and the tears slip down your face.