I'm a Loser

There is no escaping it; I'm a loser.  In fact, my memoir is called American Loser, and it is here on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HQSO9RO In America (at least), white males are supposed to be successful.  They aren't discriminated against; women and minorities are.  As I've documented here, it is very difficult to be a loser in this society, where winners are always rubbing it into the faces of losers like me.  Turn on the TV, and you'll see plenty of them: successful TV personalities, actors, athletes, entrepreneurs, etc.
I write eBooks, and nobody cares.  The last one really hurts.  I think it is very funny.  I got the idea to tweet jokes from it: trying to attract attention to it.  No one has bought it.  It's a failure, and so am I.  Lots of people don't want to read.  I use the library a lot.  People very rarely put holds on books; I'm virtually always able to renew them.  People put holds on DVDs, because most humans want them more than books.  And I've read some great books lately.  Though they weren't new.  Maybe I'd have had trouble renewing them if I took them out when they were new.   
I am a loser.  There's no separation.  I'm not reading, or watching, the story of a loser.  I am living that story.  It's not fun.  Much has been written here about what it's like to live the life of a loser: shitty, boring menial jobs, living in apartments instead of houses (and having to hear your neighbors as a result), not having much money, and being alone, because it's harder to attract women.
Lack of money means a lot of things.  It means I'm less likely to treat my depression and OCD with medication, because it is so expensive in this country that has mastered greed.  And, yes, my mental issues are untreated, and it has been that way for far too long.  It also means I'm less likely to have a pet (I don't.), because of the extra cost involved (Pets aren't allowed in my apartment complex anyway; not having a house means less freedom).  And dogs make me happy; I know they do.  It means that my home is depressingly messy, because I hate cleaning.  I'd pay someone to clean it if I could afford to.  There are all sorts of safety features that other people have on their cars.  They are less likely to get into an accident, and they will be protected better than someone like me in the event that they are involved in an accident.  I don't know how much longer I'll be able to live the life of a loser.      
 

Let's Go to the Beach: Part Deux

It's Rusty (Lucinda's son) and Daisy (Bumpkin's daughter).

I opened the car doors and flipped the levers so the front seats would move forward and allow my groundhog friends, Sloopy and Lucinda, to climb into the car and onto the back seat.  Bumpkin sat up front with me.
"All right.  I guess we're ready to go to the beach!" I said.
Sloopy and Lucinda squealed with excitement, and we were off.  I couldn't help noticing that Bumpkin had used her superpowers to open the car's passenger-side window all the way.  I was hoping that she did that for the fresh air.  However, she raised her front left paw and launched several fireballs from it, in rapid-fire succession, that slipped right out the window she had opened.  Boom!  One of the fireballs hit a gas station, which caused a massive explosion.  Sloopy and Lucinda loved it.  She also destroyed some cars, and more buildings, with the first fusillade of the day.  Her actions surprised me, but I said nothing.  Bumpkin had said she was going to wage war against humans for control of the world this spring, and, obviously, she meant it.  At this point, fireballs were popping out of her left paw like popcorn.  One after the other they came.  Again, they hit cars and buildings: stores and houses alike.  The war had begun.  I looked at Bumpkin.  She appeared to be as cool as a cucumber.  Her mastery of the fireballs of destruction is complete.  She wasn't even breaking a sweat.
After causing much destruction, we arrived at the beach.  I got out of the car, opened the doors, and moved the seats forward so Lucinda and Sloopy could get out.  We walked toward the beach.  I suppose it's a bit of a strange sight to see a human walking to the beach with 3 groundhogs, so people did their share of staring.  Unfortunately, for them, Bumpkin was in no mood to be stared at.  Everyone that pointed, stared at, or talked about us got their buns toasted by one of Bumpkin's fireballs.  I saw some boats on the lake.  Bumpkin saw them too.  She sent at least one fireball to each and every one of the boats we saw.  The fireballs detonated on the boats.  There were explosions, fires, and boats were sinking.  She even flung one at a passing plane.  She nailed it.  It exploded and suddenly fell from the sky.  It crashed into the lake.
War has begun.  People get ready for a new world leader: a groundhog named Bumpkin.