Once upon a time, there lived a boy named Nume (nʊmɜ:). Since the day that he was born, all he did was count, and count, and count.
He counted, starting with what he was born with: 10 fingers, 2 ears, 2 legs, 8 lines on his palms, and slowly but surely, day by day, moving outwards to things further away from his eye and around him: 2 balls, a pineapple, 3 friends, 1 car, 1 machinery, and all the things that he can call “his own”.
Counting counting and counting, he realized that he needs some refreshments!! This is when the CokeTM comes in~~ He showered himself with it, as his friends woke him up from a slumber.
“Aaaah, so good to see my own people!” Said him.
His friends, his families, his lovers, are quite unsure of what to do with this counting addiction. One by one, they started moving away.
Numeric, who needs to find ways to switch his counting hunger, found a new technology called the "mirror”—“it will like you back!” they say.. with it, he believes that he can stop counting quantities of real things around him—that he will be free, and that he will be one of the greats, as long as the mirror say so!
He said: “mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the biggest of them all?” as he continue to grow everything: his body parts, his arms, his legs, eeeeverything that he thinks he’ll be able to use to make him the biggest of them all.
He said to his friends: “come hang! I’m sarsaparilla and coca cola blessed!” And he heard nothing back. He didn’t realize that he was talking to a mirror, and not to his friend. His friends have their own mirror.
Enraged by reality, especially after all his effort of becoming, he started blaming the mirror— he looked at his own reflection and realized that it started reflecting something new: the cape that he wears, the blue, the red, the diamonds, the muscles— and he believe that it’s a monster.
He called his friends, which are all centered in his mind, feeding his idea, and started to train himself to kill this “monster”.
He’d pay anything in this world to kill—blood, tears, gut, loyalty, money, time, pain, respect, pride, any possible way he’d pursue to kill this “monster” part of himself.
And he did.
He chased down this monster, killed it in a gruesome manner, put it in a bag, and threw him out in a ditch. He said “wake up!” to himself as he’s convinced that the monster is dead.
He forgot that this monster has always been a part of him. Killing it means killing him, and since he’s alive, the monster is also alive, dormant or not, awaiting for its roar to be heard sooner or later.
At least for a moment though, when the killing happens, he forgot how to count.
The end.
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