Sarah Imani

Not so funny ha-ha is about Baby living life in Dimmersdorp. If she’s not working at Sven’s Survivalist Shop with a looksmaxxing wannabe vampire and Noshferatu, she will most likely be found either at the nightshop, where the shopkeeper is a faerie who knows many guys or chilling at home with her bestie, or well, the decapitated head of her bestie, which Baby has put in a fishbowl (which technically is not a fishbowl, but also don’t think too much about it). Don’t worry tho, Bestie is still alive, or perhaps I should say she’s alive again? If this sounds quite bizarre and perhaps a bit unbelievable to you, then perhaps don’t read this story since this is just the tip of the iceberg taking place over approximately 3 days. 

I’ve finally made it back to civilization or some cheap imitation called Dimmersdorp, my hometown. I get to the bus stop, which is not necessarily a bus stop, just a pole in the middle of nowhere along the only road that seems to want to lead into this so-called city. There is only one bus that drives past here. That’s not a problem. What is, tho, is that it doesn't stop here, ever. 

The only one standing there waiting with me is a cow in one of the many meadows behind. Not the majestic beast you occasionally see hopping through the meadows when you ride past deserted stops on the train. No, this bulky beast is just standing there. Looking with her big, bulging eyes at me, and I look at her. I move towards her; she doesn't move. I lean forward on your hands. She hangs her head down. We’re both at eye level. Separated only by the barbed wire. A low humming sound, as if she wants to convey a secret message. What does she want to tell me? Do cows think? If so, what are their hopes and dreams?

Slowly she sticks out her tongue and slides it right into her nostril.

Maybe I will meet in a next lifetime where you will be the cow peacefully grazing in the meadow whilst my children are being brought to the slaughter until someone decides it’s my time and she will be the zombie. 

After a while I check the bus schedule, since I honestly don’t just want to sit around waiting for something if it has no intention of showing up. It might be better to walk anyway. It’s very cringe (derogatory) to sit in a public place with a plastic bag filled with the body parts of your bestie. I guess I’m just gauche like that. 

name: sarah imani

pronouns: depends on the situation

age: at the time of writing 20 seconds, 19 hours and 27 years old (middle european standard time) and if allowed I might grow even older

star sign: the two-faced, gossipy, moody, thieving, superficial, indecisive, unstable and outright lying bitch also known as the geminini 

writing: poetical, feverdream-ish, horror, kinda funny, kinda not, but mostly involving the internet and experiences of being black and queer in the netherlands 

name of work made: not so funny ha-ha

hobbies: eat hot chip, lie and exist on the internet

insta: @sarahimani37 (mostly used for sending reels)

hotel: trivago