showerhead

So yeah. Rose Cookies.

This isn’t your usual power fantasy or deep character study. It’s just… something that came out of my brain—and maybe yours too.

Keanu, the guy you’re reading about, isn’t really a person. He doesn’t have a personality, no tragic backstory, no moral compass. He’s just there. Walking, talking, smiling. And then suddenly—violence. Out of nowhere.

Why? Because sometimes, life just pushes people. You keep swallowing the little stuff—awkward silences, fake laughs, getting ignored, getting talked over, being the nice one. Over and over. And then one day, something in you snaps… or at least, wants to.

Not gonna lie, a lot of these scenes are born from real stories. Not the stabbings, obviously, but the feelings. Stuff I’ve gone through. Stuff people have told me. That quiet, helpless frustration when you just sit there thinking, “Why do I keep letting this happen?” And maybe, for a second, your brain throws out the worst possible solution just to see how it feels.

Keanu is that. He’s not a person. He’s an impulse. He’s what happens when all that built-up patience finally tips.

Some chapters will be hilarious. Some will be disturbing. Some will make zero sense. That’s intentional. Life doesn’t stick to genre rules, so neither does this.

Thanks for reading. Or hate-reading. Or doomscrolling (I sincerely doubt that) your way into this mess. I’m writing it like a fever dream and trying to surprise myself, so if it gets weird, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

– Sincerely,
Showerhead

Rose Cookies

Keanu opened his eyes. All around him: chips. Flaming Hot Somethings crunched against his ribs. A Mars bar was wedged inside his armpit.

A girl was poking the glass from the outside. Her mascara was running. "I said Sour Patch! Not Salt Patch! What the hell is this vending machine?"

Keanu blinked. Tried to wave. Hit his head on a KitKat.

"Oh my god," the girl said. "Is that a dude in there?"

Keanu pressed his face to the glass. She screamed. He smiled politely. Then tried to rotate. Twix avalanche.

He fumbled toward the bottom tray, feet kicking a loose Snickers. There was a little printed sticker. JAPAN IMPORTED HUMAN-SAFE VENDING v3.7

The girl stared at him, took a photo, and ran away yelling, "WHY IS HE KINDA HOT THO?"

Keanu sighed. He tried to remember how he got here. He remembered ramen. He remembered a guy with Bluetooth headphones. He remembered someone calling him, "a sigma vending machine of a man."

He tried to punch the side panel. A soda launched out of the machine and nailed a jogger in the ankle. The jogger screamed, dropped his smoothie, and limped away while flipping the machine off.

Keanu pressed his palm against the glass. Calmly. Thoughtfully.

"I'm stuck in a capitalist prison, huh."

He reached into the slot. Pulled out a little metal screwdriver. Perfect. Always check the coin tray.

Click. Clack. The front panel hissed.

He climbed out like a newborn convenience store gremlin. His hoodie was stuck to a packet of pretzels. He peeled it off, dignity already lost.

An old lady across the street clapped.

"I have no idea what city this is," Keanu muttered.

A man walked by. "Hey, vending guy! You still sell those pineapple gums?"

Keanu stared at him. Slowly, very slowly, he reached into his hoodie and pulled out a pineapple gum.

Then he stabbed the next guy who asked for change.

'Why am I attracted to vending machines?', Kenau wondered.

Inside a machine