Blindy drained another glass and turned his head. Next to him, half in shadow, sat Zeros—physically present, emotionally absent, Blindy squinted.
“So why the hell you even come here?
You don’t drink… not even moonshine.”
Zeros slowly scanned the room like a machine calculating humanity’s current decomposition rate.
“This bar contains the foulest, most pathetic organisms in the entire galaxy—a classification I refer to as Blindy-type.
Garbage of all garbage.”
Blindy raised an eyebrow, took a sip, waited.
Zeros turned to him, completely serious.
“And I hate humans.
So, logically, I come here to hate them more.”
Blindy spat his drink, bursting out laughing.
“Man, you’re one fucked-up-to-the-head droid! Zeros… like— professionally messed up…”
Zeros didn’t react.
His eyes drifted to a fresh fight starting nearby.
“And yet, I’m still the sanest mind in this bar.”
He closed his eyes, and a memory file opened:
"first-meeting-with-that-disgusting-ugly-filthy-pig – 03.16.3478—20:42:57 (SST)"Five months, four days, three hours, two minutes, three seconds ago.
Same bar—Three Tits.
The murderous droid sat at a table, arms crossed, wearing the expression of universal exhaustion.
Blindy—so drunk he couldn’t see past two feet—plopped down next to him and grinned.
“Name’s Blindy…
An’ you, bruh?”
The android—covered in blood, droplets still hitting the table—replied flatly:
“I don’t give a fuck.”
Blindy nodded solemnly.
“‘Don’t-give-a-fuck,’ huh…
Damn, that’s a weird-ass name.”
The android looked up.
“Blindy? You blind?”
Blindy gave a crooked, satisfied grin.
“Well, kinda… yeah.”
The then-nameless killer-droid slapped him so hard—
SMASH!
— the air squealed.
Blindy shot to his feet, whipping out a bluster:
“WHAT THE HELL— you metal shithead?!”
The android answered without emotion:
“You’re not blind.”
Blindy touched his cheek.
“‘Course I ain’t actually blind…
It’s… meta— meta-fucker-sistically—
Yeah, that—
I’m blind to everythin’…
‘cept hot chicks… good food… booze… an’… wait…”
He squinted, wobbling a little.
“Hol’up… there was one more…”
He squinted hard, like the answer might crawl out of the floor.
“Oh yeah. Money.”
The android, without even turning his head, stared into the void:
“You meant to say metaphorically.“
Blindy nodded a couple of times way too fast, then grabbed his jaw with one hand, trying to stop the spinning—otherwise he’d definitely puke.
“…Yeah, that’s the one. That word.
Dude, my tongue bailed on me while I was trying to sound smart.”
The murderous android looked at Blindy like the last kilobyte of respect inside him had just died:
“I. DON’T. GIVE. A. FUCK.”
Blindy shrugged.
“Alright alright, jeez. I get it. Your name is ‘Don’t-Give-a-Fuck.’
Kinda like mine.
You got a model number?”
The android lifted his head.
“Model number?
…yeah…
I have a number… for you.“
Blindy squinted hard, propping his face up with both hands like this was about to be some world-shaking secret.
“An’… what’s that?”
The answer didn’t come right away—just a cold stare that pinned him in place.
“Zero…” the android said, almost like he was talking to himself.
Blindy blinked.
“Wh—what?”
The android didn’t even look at him.
“Zero.”
Blindy shook his head.
“One zero… or two zeros?”
The android slowly turned, like he was about to kill someone.
“Zero… zero… zero…”
Blindy leaned back a little.
“Uh… buddy?
You good?”
The android paused—almost like he was actually thinking—then added, completely deadpan:
“…and another zero.”
Blindy burst into laughter.
“So lemme get this straight—
your number’s… zero-zero-zero-zero…
an’ then another fuckin’ zero?!”
The android nodded.
“Yes.
Zero-zero-zero-zero.
My model.
Because I give exactly ZERO fucks.
And for the STUPIDEST among us:
I don’t give a hot squirt of machine oil 5W-30 about you all.
Now—fuck off.”
Blindy’s grin only widened.
“Nice to meetcha… Zeros…”
The android stared at him as if he’d just discovered the worst creature in the Universe.
“Just leave, blind piece of shit.”
And yeah… that’s how it all started.
The first meeting.
The first punch.
The first “fuck off.”
From that moment, everything only got worse.
Or…
If you think those were sparks of a new friendship—
no.
Those were sparks from Blindy’s bent internal wiring after the slap.