Stupid Duke.

Stupid Mint.

I hate them.

I came home with a firm resolution regarding them. I'll go on with my life, and they can kill each other if they want.

Yet, here I am, in the middle of the night, a few hours after the meltdown of my life, and I can't sleep. No matter how tired I am, sweet dreams evade me. All I can think about is stupid Mint and stupid Duke.

They are out there. Alone. In the big, dangerous world. On their own.

Out there, with their underdeveloped little brains. Doing dumb things, like they usually do. With no one watching over them.

So unprotected and vulnerable.

Just thinking about the dangers they must face makes me want to tap my forehead and breathe out. Especially because the worst threat they face is each other, and I can't come up with anything more dangerous than these two.

Stupid Duke.

Stupid Mint.

My mind doesn't let me rest. It's showing me pictures of them, dying in the most unexpected ways. Decapitated by a helicopter. Run over by a cargo train. Sizzled by a ball lightning. Swallowing a deflated balloon animal. Falling off of a jungle gym, head first.

I turn on the TV. I need something to help my brain to relax.

I count the lies in the news for a while. It's like counting sheep. Sooner or later, it will lull me to sleep.

Except that sheep remind me of lambs. And lambs remind me of...

I groan in frustration.

Stupid Mint and stupid Duke.

The virus still didn't hit the headlines, while it's quite evident, to me, at least, that nothing could be more important than that. It's very dangerous. Almost as dangerous as—okay, I'm not going down this road. Three taps on the forehead, and I breathe out. I'm not thinking about those two. No lambs, no dead faces. I'm only thinking about the pandemic. It may sound a strange way to relax, but a virus is almost comforting compared to those stupid— no, I refuse to repeat myself.

But my renegade brain, sadly, is too good at finding possible connections between separate topics. And it informs me that the chance of a worldwide pandemic is elevated to 94% if Mint is the one who wants the vaccine.

I choose another channel. It's a documentary about modern warfare. The third sentence the narrator utters in a bored voice updates me about the gradually increasing role of mercenary armies.

I choose another one. It's nice. And relaxing. There's a helicopter exploding after a very long and pointless car chase. I enjoy it until it becomes evident that the suave man with the annoyingly self-righteous smile and the perfectly fitting suit won't die as I hoped. And he reminds me of—no. He doesn't remind me of anyone. Still, I choose another channel.

It's porn. Something calming for my poor, worn-out nerves, finally.

I watch it for a while. Just when I almost fall asleep, a commercial interrupts my peaceful dozing. There's a woman, dressed as an angel, wearing huge wings and a fishnet tank, with a whip in her hand. She's ready to take care of naughty men, at least that's what she boldly states. I wish she were serious. I'd have a job for her.

I snort, and I change channels again.

It's a cartoon. Exactly what I need. Three colorful, furry animals are jumping around on the screen. I can't tell what kind of creatures they are, but they are cute. They are hugging each other time and again, though, and that's a bit scary. But even with the hugging part, it's a 67% delightful and a 33% uncomfortable experience to watch them.

Until they turn on each other, without reason. They're calling each other names in a childish way, and I hate to hear the small orange furry to be called annoying. It causes an unexpected tightness in my chest. She doesn't deserve it. Or he. I can't tell why, but I go with she.

I've had enough for tonight. I don't feel ready to face another horrendous show. They would only remind me of—

I grind my teeth and turn the TV off. No sleep for me, I'm afraid, no matter what I do.

Stupid Duke.

Stupid Mint.

I hate them.