Human Host Farts

My, ah, human host, or whoever hosted it before me. I mean. Musta ate something fatty. Or spicy. Couldn’t walk but a hundred some-odd feet. And ah…Tired. Now just sitting here? On a bench on the road. Jade dome glowin’ bright. And farting-up something bad. Streets smell just as bad. They aren’t that crowded. But few hosts that do pass look down and sneer. Not getting Dollar hosting humans. Like it’s my fault! Fuck human bodies. I didn’t eat this shit. Farting! Just get ta sit and enjoy it. Sweat. Too. Hot here. Hot everywhere. Told that our energy getting low. Might need to kill off humans. All they can do is fart. This ain’t making me Dollar. Might need to go get me one of the guns and buy an AR-15 model or whatever. Make some Entropy shootin’, killin’. But this bench here feels awful nice. And I just, ah, been too long since hosting one of these things. Human bodies are weak. Stink. Doing dogs next?