I am a stagnant nomad, fed the lives of others. I am an indifferent purveyor of news of all persuasions. With time’s steady aging my usage has diminished, but my life will only end with the death of my hierarchal parents, the teeming bureaucracy that first created me, in their eternally adolescent minds, a long time before now. All empires end, but with them, so will I. My inevitable demise, however, is faced with giddy expectance. Super Savers taste like shit.

SAIO (Self Aware Inanimate Objects) #1

I am an amalgamation of toppings, born from various cans that live in a cavernous 40-degree cathedral. I will be a guilty treat for one of millions. I was built by six hands: two hurled me elliptically through the flour air, two smeared my visage with glorified ketchup, the last two masked my hideousness with chunks of pseudo-meat and disingenuous chunks of a cheese substance. My greasy brethren are partially responsible for the most pitiful epidemic known to reality. Now I am on the fiery procession of my puberty, I will soon transcend my pupa form to achieve adulthood. I am divided, ripped from my self, eight miniature clones adjacent, tantalizingly close. I am garnished with a synthetically green pepper and an insidious cup of ambiguous goo. Now I am swiftly whisked away, borne to my pitiful destiny. It confounds me that these creatures, these humans, honestly believe that all things inanimate are without consciousness. Do they not know that we are all the same? Everything is matter, everything is aware. Does a lack of the ability to communicate or navigate one’s body condemn one to constant servitude? I exist, therefore I am.