In 2026, the world officially entered the terminal stage of convenience.

People no longer cooked. No longer went out. No longer talked to each other. They didn’t even break up anymore.

They delegated.

Food arrived at home. Medicine arrived at home. Clothes arrived at home. Even dogs were chosen online.

Only one sector was still inefficient:

love.

That’s when a few former Amazon executives reached out and asked me how I had done what I had done.

The question was so twisted that even an idiot like me found the answer obvious:

“Found a revolutionary startup called PUSSYZON. Just don’t tell Jeff Bezos I gave you the idea — or he’ll call me too.”

At first, nobody took the project seriously.

Then came a second call.

“How do we launch the first global ad campaign?”

They had prepared the usual corporate nonsense:

Bronze Package Silver Package Gold Package Platinum Package

I stopped them immediately.

They knew I grew up in the Bronx. Real ideas always answer the moment — never the goal.

Three products. Order now.

Sold out in three hours.

I decided to buy the cheapest package myself, just to see what I’d get.

MENTAL PEACE — $9.99 Delivery: 12 hours.

The courier arrived on time.

I opened the door.

He handed me a small instruction sheet.

The rules were simple:

I had to use every breath I had to inflate a plastic doll and then select the desired behavior.

Then came the premium package — included by mistake:

an Argentine psychologist, a depressed cat, and a bottle of Portuguese wine.

I looked at the courier.

He lowered his eyes and said:

“Sir… this is the best we could find.”

I accepted the delivery.

And today she’s still sitting in my armchair.

She’s beautiful. Elegant. Silent. Doesn’t ask for money.

An ideal presence.

Too bad she doesn’t cook.

Nando

I never questioned my place: seated where elegance and class belong, even in poverty.