I stole a human body

 I stole a human body thinking it would be a joyride, but quickly discovered it was a hell ride. It was a baby human body and I couldn’t even steer it, and it had no brakes, but it had a hell of a loud horn when it got hungry, shit and peed itself, heard loud noises, got tired, cranky or otherwise upset, especially when its parents couldn’t find its pacifier. The only rest I got was when it was asleep. This human body was designed by the Genetic Corporation and came with weird features. But if that wasn’t crazy enough, it got trained, programmed, indoctrinated, brainwashed and propagandized by the Idiot’s R Us Corporation. By the time it was a teenager it was total mess (“What the hell did I get myself into?”). Aside from weird physical features, this human body came with three mental features. A memory bank, an information processor (both useful) and a lunatic feature. When this body’s mind is in lunatic mode even the devil runs like hell. It took a long time, all its teen years plus a few legal drinking years to train it a little bit (sometimes I wonder who is training who) but I’ve gotten used to this body, this wackadoodle vehicle with its, “What the hell are you plotting now,” mind and emotions. But even now at the age of seventy-six, I have to watch its mind like a hawk, or it wanders off, or it plays a song on eternal repeat, or wants to know why the hell it ever got born. I keep telling it the truth, but its not much of a believer. It wants to experience the truth for itself. I think its driving me nuts. But it’s sure been one hell of a ride so far, and I suspect the next few years are going to be dynamite, one mind blowing experience after another until I walk out of this body the same way I came in, excited just to be alive. At this point you might ask, “Who am I that stole this vehicle?” You could say that I am the ghost in this machine. Some call me spirit or soul. I prefer cosmic dude. My name is Nemesis (and I didn’t really steal this body. I was assigned to it by the people upstairs. I figure they know what they’re doing. If not, it’s still a hell of a joy ride).