• kaleenamadruga

God, I Love Myself

Updated: Jan 10, 2020

short story - fiction



“Now it came to be the day when the sons of the [true] God entered to take their station before Jehovah, and even Satan proceeded to enter right among them. Then Jehovah said to Satan: “Where do you come from?” At that Satan answered Jehovah and said: “From roving about in the earth and from walking about in it.”


Sometimes, when the cameras aren’t rolling and I’ve let all of my assistants take some time off and I’ve stuffed Cory’s limp body into my smaller closet, I decide to take off my skin suit and think about the wonder that is my life.


As the most hated figure in all of religion, media, and literature, it is often hard to believe I’ve accomplished so much greatness. You’d be amazed at how many people have tried not only to diminish my talents, but to eliminate me from the zeitgeist altogether. It’s honestly sad.


An important element of my personal journey is to shatter the visual representations and negative rumors in regards to my existence, because so many get it wrong. I’ve never had horns, I’ve never had a tail. The only reason I must put on the skin suit daily is because I cannot cultivate my own flesh from the blood of my enemies, a habit I relinquished when I became a mother. Do you think anyone ever gives me credit for that? No, they do not. Carrying around a pitchfork is also completely pointless, but my hands are never idle, you know this about me.


I live in Calabasas, which is a far cry from the desert heat or the depths of the underworld. I have to coexist on this doomed planet just like the rest of you; I’m being punished just like the rest of you.


It is my original sin, my Lust for power and corruption, that I must ignore. Every. Single. Day. Do you have a craving, a need that burns inside you every waking hour that you must suppress? It only made sense to focus all of my energy into the creation of an army. While my fledglings do provide a temporary release from my ultimate outcome, they have proved to be the most powerful, fabulous distraction I could have ever dreamed of.


Most people don’t know this about me, but my main function in this worldly body is to continuously perpetuate the OJ Simpson narrative into the American consciousness until I am granted permission to unleash my ultimate power. This sounds like an easy task, but in the past few years I have found myself grasping at straws. I am eternally grateful to our blood pact with the Bravo network, as their continued commitment to this goal has proven wildly successful.


Can you imagine coming to earth and being given this task? My ambitions are so much greater than reminding people of the most transformative trial in all of american history. It’s not that I don’t have an interest in brutal murders, racial profiling, or the “justice system”, one could argue that I actually live for those things. I simply have bigger fish to fry. If I was able to pursue my one true desire, the OJ Simpson story would be the smallest of blips on the universal radar.


It started with Kourtney. Truthfully, it seems unjust that my first creation would be one of Sloth, and I knew immediately after I had her, I’d have to keep trying. I was allowed six sins in addition to my own to create my clan. Together, we would rule the southwest hemisphere of America, by whatever means necessary. My rules were relatively loose: never let the world forget about OJ. They never said I couldn’t create my own empire.


Kourtney has problems with decision making, working, talking, and generally being interesting. She is not the ideal accomplice. The only thing she’s ever been good at is getting pregnant, but her choice in DNA blending was far below what I ever anticipated for growing our clan, so I often forget about her. Kourtney exists, I suppose, to balance out our power. In a different way than Rob does, Kourtney serves to remind the American public that every family has a boring one, which helps with our relatability ratings (they have a tendency to slip every year).


One of the most monumental things that ever happened to me was the cultivation of Kimberly. I knew instantly that she had immense potential and would serve me greatly in my quest for world dominance. Kimberly’s Pride not only in the work that we do in this lifetime, but in our end goal as well stems from a deep level of narcissism that many simply cannot match. Kimberly’s sacrifices are too numerous to count, and she is currently being held hostage by a Trump-supporting rapper who recently started believing in J***s just to keep us on track, and I could not be more thankful for her. It’s quite unfortunate, for Kim, that her youngest sister has usurped the seat beside me when the time comes, because we do make an incredible pair. I have found that Kimberly’s talents are best used in this superficial lifetime, though, and she may not be best suited for a leadership position in the wreckage that will soon follow.


Khloe’s birth was obviously monumental to my earthly mission, as she was fathered by OJ Simpson. Of course I want you to believe what the tabloids tell you. I invented tabloids. Luring him in was the easiest thing I’ve ever done, and lying to Khloe about the origin of her own maker is the oldest trick in the book, so we’ve achieved a lot of success with her. It was actually Khloe’s idea to create the Tristan Thompson robot replica after the fallout of Lamar. I’ve apologized to Khloe countless times for the part I played in that. As I’ve said, it’s very hard for me to control my impulse to destroy. Khloe has a deep Rage that burns inside her and I admire it greatly. However, to keep her focus on the fall of man rather than the destruction of me, we’ve used her strengths to craft and program NBA robots that have two functions: play mediocrely, and have sex with sluts. It’s worked out amazingly in the ratings for both us and ESPN.


No one was more surprised than I that Robert Jr. was such a failure. I have a heart, I’m sentimental. It was perhaps the greatest tragedy of my life to eat Robert Senior and use his blood for my year-long skin suit (please do look up photos of my physical form from the year 2003. I am immaculate). It was all done in support of my mission, but I did not enjoy it, and I still suffer greatly as a result. Robert, at first glance, appeared to be the perfect male addition to our quest. It is important for me to note here that this greatest villain of all time is not me, it is big pharma. They played a direct role in the advocacy and abuse of Robert’s Gluttonous tendencies as well as his hideous appearance. While it states in the rules that I am allowed to sacrifice one spawn for the cause, it seems unwise to remove the only male heir to the kingdom. We are by no means a patriarchy, but I do suppose I can see a use for him eventually. It is imperative that I remain focused on his sock line right now, otherwise I will be forced to cut off the bloodline at his expense.


Due to the viscous nature of an apocalypse, it was important that I crafted hearty, talented spawn. It only made sense to mate with an Olympian. I don’t particularly like to reflect on Caitlyn, and not because of her transition. Despite what anyone thinks, says, or writes about me, I am far more inclusive than the so-called “good one”. Caitlyn betrayed my mission, she got too caught up in what we had created in the interim. The focus no matter what must always be in relation to OJ, I told her this a thousand times. Did she or did she not sit beside me at the trial? I am not unclear with my instructions. Regardless, Caitlyn provided me with the most crucial element to my plot, and I have allowed her to keep her body and blood to show my appreciation.


Kendall is not the most crucial element, but she is nice to look at. Aesthetics are important to me. You’d be shocked to know that Kendall is actually the most passionate about our mission, far more than any of her siblings. But she’s just not equipped for it. She is dull and lanky and cannot run. She should be lucky that I let her try out modeling to keep herself busy, because she’s hardly worth the sacrifice. Her Envy towards the rest of the clan runs so deep you can almost see her skin melting off in those acne commercials I forced her to do for my own pleasure. Do you think I’m too hard on her?


It took six attempts and three mates but I finally got what I wanted: Kylie. She’s perfect. Not one thing about her is real. She barely has a central nervous system. She has no sense of right and wrong! The others took so much training, prep, and stun guns to get them to act right. Kylie hopped off my stripper pole and into the flames of Hell. I’ve never met someone with more Greed than I. It’s been a blessing to watch Kylie perpetuate a disgusting obsession with Western standards of beauty and consumerism. She is the ideal one to sit beside me on the day of reckoning.


I recently convinced Kylie to sell 51% of her company for a few million dollars. Human currency is of no value to me, I utilize it purely for entertainment. But, every single one of Kylie’s lip kits is actually a mini bomb, designed to set the earth ablaze. At exactly 9:00 PM central time at the completion of the final episode of the final season of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, every single Kylie Cosmetics product will erupt into a stunning explosion with the capability to wipe out 20,000 acres in five seconds. The Kylie Cosmetics headquarters is actually the new Pentagon, which is surrounded by an explosion-proof forcefield (yes, I did 9/11. I do not like traveling to New York! This is more convenient for me.). There I will be residing with my five remaining creations, and whoever else I deem worthy of new world order. Immediately following the bombing, our affiliates at the Pentagon (Kylie HQ) will release the remaining plagues to ensure there are no survivors. Depending on their behavior we will use them to breed more clan members, or they will be sacrificed for the cause. The entire thing will be streamed live on E! followed by a montage of my most incredible moments, but of course we will be the only ones watching.


We will take turns draining the blood from Kendall’s body as she screams and begs for mercy. We have cut her out of every single clip from the show and she won’t be able to stand it. We will laugh and laugh as Kim sews her flesh into my new coat, and our name will strike fear into every man, woman, child and extra terrestrial left, as we stake our claim on the barren wasteland that was once planet earth. Yes, I’ve decided certainly to sacrifice Kendall.


Together, we will create an army capable of entire galactic destruction. No one will ever be able to keep up with us.


I have only a few more years to go, and my body is warm from the inside out just thinking about it.


I relax into my chaise lounge, sip my tea, and watch the burning sun dip below the ocean.

As I look on all that I’ve created over these years, would I do anything differently? Alas, no.


No one works as hard as I do. And no one ever will.

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