This Puzzling Knot has Disturbed my Inner Well-Being

>Homer said he's bringing home a gift for me
>he says it's really cool
>pickle homer always gets me the coolest things so i’m really excited
>it arrives
>he tears open the package
>it’s wrapped up in crepe paper
>he presents it to me
>he’s so excited
>i tear it open
>it’s a rambo fly and itch hoodie
>my mouth drops open
>i’m gobsmacked
>i’m mortified
>he says “put it on!”
>i just..
>i don’t know how to tell him
>i can’t tell him
>the rambo fly and itch hoodie is a hate symbol
>he’s so excited
>he’s so happy
>ha ha i say
>yeah!
>thanks!
>i’ll put it on the bathroom!
>i get into the bathroom
>i throw the thing on the floor
>i just stare at it
>my heart racing
>i don’t know what to do
>i can’t wear this
>i’m thinking about escaping out the window
>i say to myself
>look
>this probably cost pickle homer a lot of money
>i’ll wear it
>i just won’t go outside with it on
>i put it on
>and i go back to the living room
>and my jaw drops
>my heart stops
>pickle homer
>is in the middle of the room
>wearing a rambo sweet itch with zebra stripes
>i think no no no no no
>no no no
>no no non no no nono onon on
>NnoN OON ONON ONONO
>he’s smiling
>he says he got us tickets to the insane colt posse
>i think
>no NO NO NO NO
>the insane cult posse are the roughest horse band
>they’re completely unpredictable
>their fans regularly tear apart audience members for minor infractions
>i’m going to die
>he says let’s go
>i’m going to die
>we walk out the door
>i’m going to die
>we walk down the street
>I”M GOING TO DIE
>we get to the industrial warehouse where they’re hosting the concert
>I”M GOING TO DIE
>we stand in line
>i can feel eyes from all over the crowd burning into me
>i just don’t look at them
>i can’t look at anyone
>i just look at the ground
>littered in cans of montucket cold snack
>WHAT THE FUCK
>broken amber glass from bottles of amyl nitrate
>WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING
>discharged canisters of nitrous oxide
>WHAT AM I DOING HERE
>every primal howl of celebration scares me
>every sudden action
>every shove
>or push
>seems charged with menace
>i say i’m not feeling good
>pickle homer says what are you talking about
>i say i think i smelled a marijuana
>he says you’ll be fine
>he’s so happy
>he’s so excited
>my blood has sunk into my feet
>all color and life has gone
>i’m in a cold, emotionless nihilist world full of menace
>i croak that i can’t feel God anymore
>he doesn’t hear me
>i can’t speak anymore
>my throats all closed up
>we get into the venue
>i find a spot that is as least conspicuous as i can find
>pickle homer says he wants to get closer
>i say i can’t
>he starts getting angry
>he says this is really important to him
>he says it costs a lot of money to get into this concert
>he says he wants to enjoy it
>i alpha tantrum
>he alpha tantrums
>i alpha tantrum back
>he alpha tantrums back
>he says FINE
>i can see his jaw clench
>he’s really mad at me now
>but i can’t help it
>he’s just watching the stage
>no one is even on it
>he’s just staring at it
>in quiet fury
>more and more people crowd in
>it starts getting really jammed in there
>we get pushed further and further back
>we’re pushed right up into a big trash pile where everyone is pissing
>he says he can’t even see the band
>the music starts playing
>it’s really loud but indistinct
>everything is muffled
>i’m taller than pickle homer
>so i can kind of see the stage
>they start the show with a lot of pyrotechnics
>there’s fire blasting all over the stage
>it’s actually really cool
>but it looks like one of the band member’s hair caught fire
>he’s running around
>he runs straight into a stage curtain
>the fire leaps onto the curtain
>it starts climbing up
>it starts eating up the musty old ceiling tiling
>which starts dropping down
>and starting more fires
>i say we gotta get out of here
>i grab pickle homer
>i charge us out of there before anyone else even thinks to act
>we’re out in the clean air
>i look behind us
>everyone inside got clogged up in the doorway trying to leave all at once
>they’re trapped
>like a ratking
>we start hearing their screams from inside
>we try and pull some of them to safety
>they’re totally stuck inside
>they’re all compacted in one big horse, horse-man, and human wall
>we back away
>smoke billows out from between them
>it's like looking into the gates of hell
>the firemen arrive
>the police arrive
>we’re just totally gobsmacked
>we’re totally astonished
>we’re tilted
>someone points a bright camera light in our face
>a woman with the evening news starts interviewing us
>she asks us what happened
>i think we're in shock
>i say we dunno
>i say there was a big fire
>i say everybody got stuck
>she asks me why i’m wearing the rambo fly and itch hoodie
>i say i dunno
>i say i’m a racist
>i say i’m a horrible and evil racist
>i can feel my ancestors turning on me
>i can feel them retracting their support
>i say i’m a horrible villainous racist
>she asks pickle homer if he thinks it’s okay to wear zebra stripes
>he can’t speak
>he’s white as a sheet
>his eyes are all glassy
>and he's staring off to the side into some vast distance
>she says she hopes we can put it behind us some day and we can get the help we need
>i say there is no helping us
>pickle homer and i walk home in quiet humiliation