Consultation 53.

"God, how do I become a normal waifu?"

“Look, do you know who you’ve booked a consultation with?”

“Yes, of course I do. You’re God, right?”

“Yes, I may be God, but my full title is God of Shitty Life Counseling for Defective Washed Up Waifus. Do you really think asking a god with this sort of title can lead you down the correct path toward becoming a normal waifu? Why is it that every single one of you take this title as a joke? This title is dead serious. You see that Washed Up Waifus in there? It’s there for a reason, you got that?”

“I understand... but, I believe in God! I know a god like you who has seen countless washed up waifus like me can lead me down the path of a normie. All you need to do is tell me the things not to do that you’ve seen in all the other washed up waifus you’ve encountered before and I’m sure to become a normal one.”

“Hah? Are you crazy or just really stupid?”

“Really stupid and crazy.”

“Ah. Sorry I asked, I forgot you were one of them.”

“Hehehe. No problem. Now, God, answer me. How do I tread the path of a normie?” She asked with dead serious eyes filled with high expectations.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Normie? She wants to be a normie? Of all things, why’d it have to be that? My sense of normality has honestly dropped too low after all the crazy bitches I’ve counseled. It’s reached a level where I can’t even tell if my standard of normal is correct these days.

“Look, if you want to be a normal waifu…”

“Yeah.”

“You just need to…”

“Yeah!”

“... not go stabby stabby in the back.”

“And!”

“And… not do anything weird with fetuses.”

“What else?”

“Never become a zombie.”

“Uhuh!” The look on her face was clearly demanding more.

“Stay far away from tentacles, slimes, and insects. Don’t try to fuck everything in existence. Eat apples and chocolate how they’re supposed to be eaten with your mouth and not anything else.”

“Okay… and...” She gradually lost the enthusiasm she started out with.

“Abide by the law and respect your government. Don’t kill everyone you see.”

“Abide by the law… respect the government… and don’t... kill anyone? But where’s the fun in life if you do that? Aren’t the opposite of those things pretty normie to begin with? Actually, all the things you’ve listed actually sound pretty interesting. Why would someone not do these things?”

“You don’t need to know. Just trust me and follow the things I’ve told you and you’ll be a normie fucking every chad hero in no time.”

“Okay… if you say so. Are there any other things I shouldn’t do?”

“Yeah. You must follow this one at all costs. It is the most important point of them all. Never, I repeat, NEVER become a story writer. If you do, you’ll be the farthest thing from a normie. Every possible fucked up thing imaginable will suddenly look pretty tame to you. Eventually, you’ll reach a point where feeding a fetus to their mother isn’t even a big deal anymore.”

“I… understand. But… feeding a fetus to a mother… isn’t that a bit…”

“Horrible? Evil? Yeah, it absolutely is.”

“Eh? Horrible? I was going to say underwhelming for an example that’s supposed to demonstrate something atrocious about being a writer.”

Ah. It was at that moment I knew... 

I wasted my god damn time. 

There’s no hope for this bitch.

No matter what I told her not to do, this bitch would never become a true normie. 

She could gallivant around looking like a normie on the surface by following the things I instructed her on, but at her core, she’d forever be a fucked up defective waifu at heart.

“Is that all I need to follow, God?”

“Haaaaaah. Uh… yeah. Sure, I guess.” 

“Alright, I’ll work hard and do my best to be a normie waifu.”

“Yeah, you do that.” You’re destined for failure. It’s true what they say. Once you go defective, you never can correct it.

“Thank you for your guidance, God. I’ll be sure to come back if I still need help.”

“No problem.” Please don’t come back though.