[WP] You are absolutely immortal and indestructible, but the universe isn't, and that horrifies you.

They say don't cry over spilt milk. Well, I don't. I mean, not regular milk. Cow's milk. Or even goat milk. One time, I cried over some almond milk I spilled, but does that count? Shit's expensive. And then I went and slammed my fist against the table. Broke the table, and the floor underneath it. And the concrete slab my house sits on. And the ground underneath. And the mantel and the crust of the planet I was on, and yes, I'll admit it, ended up with a small crack in the space-time continuum. I'm sorry! I'm only human! An immortal human, with the strength to fracture reality, sure, but still a human!

I was having a bad day, you see. The Overgod of sub-dimension 12 was riding my ass about some loose fractals in the 10^412s of pi over 13, even though THAT IS NOT MY JOB, and Kelly X-9 m'k'kr#47 in sales wasn't answering my texts– hello, K, don't you think water SHRINKING when it FREEZES is MAYBE a PROBLEM? and my dog, Cantilever, had gotten loose the night before and totally F'd up my neighbor's Delta galaxy cluster… AGAIN! And so, I was just trying to keep it together, get myself a nice cold glass of almond milk…

And then the phone rang. I HAVE THE POWER TO CONSUME SUNS AND BELCH WHOLE PLANETARY SYSTEMS INTO EXISTENCE WHY DO I HAVE AN OLD-FASHIONED WALL-PHONE ON MY WALL? It startled me, and I dropped the carton. Almond milk everywhere.

It was the last straw, I guess. I started to cry. My tears, running down my face, evaporating, coalescing again in some alternate universe causing great floods and re-writing at least several dozen major religions, probably.

I slapped the table, like I said. Goodbye table, goodbye floor. Goodbye house. Goodbye Earth 3.42. Whatever. And then that high, whiny hissing sound. God damn it. Double god damn it! Kelly X-9 m'k'kr#47 wasn't answering my texts anyway, how was I supposed to requisition a super-space band-aid? It's not like I can just run down to CVS and pick up a box… THEY'RE NOT EVEN GOING TO BE SELLING THOSE FOR AT LEAST ANOTHER 6 BILLION YEARS!

Not sure what I should do. Maybe find that genie who granted me those wishes and fuck him up. Ha ha Mr. Genie, you got me good, didn't you. Fucker.