Julio leaned in closer. Her beauty was stunning. The way the Kourtney ate popcorn on her couch was so captivating, so unparalleled by any other woman. Just as her lips closed around a kernel, the shrill hiss of Scott’s voice cracked through the otherwise sublime air. Julio hated Scott, the way he wavered in his loyalty to the goddess. As matriarch Kris’s voice concluded the episode, Julio sat back in the recliner as the credits rolled by on the screen. “I love you,” he whispered aloud. His voice, however, was muffled by a commercial for Kim’s new hairspray line, “SouthEast”.
Julio lazily stared as cans of hairspray rained down upon a group of screaming women. Finding little fascination in the mediocre models that the advertising agency had chosen, Julio walked to the kitchen to make himself some popcorn, hoping that the kernels would somehow bring him closer to the Kourney that he had just observed.
As he watched the paper bag slowly rotate behind the metal mesh of his microwave window, his ears fell back to the television. The final seconds of the commercial, featuring the serene voice of Kim, caressed his eardrums like a ray of sunlight on a nippy fall afternoon. Julio spoke the words with her, having memorized her dialogue like a monk memorizes the Psalms. “My hairspray will make your hair stiffer than Kanye after he didn’t win at the EMAs,” Julio said in unison with the voice of Kim. As he finished reciting the line, the microwave beeped to signal that his buttery delight was ready for consumption. Taking the bag from the steamy confines of the oven, Julio froze as Kim’s voice continued. His ears honed onto the vocals as a cougar tracks an opossum through the inky blur of the night. “I want you,” Kim uttered seductively as a tantalizingly icy chill ran down Julio’s back “To come see me tonight at Yellowstone National Parks’s Save the Polar Bears Charity Fundraiser.” Julio shivered as a wisp of a “Yes,” involuntarily emerged from the depths of his diaphragm.
Kim let out a sigh as she reclined her seat at 8,000 feet. North laid in the seat behind her, tenderly strapped into her Gucci travel seat. “I don’t want to go to Yellowrock to save some icy albino lump,” she moaned to her publicist. “Does Wyoming even have polar bears?”
“Kim, listen to me,” said the publicist, “Ever since you got together with Kanye the American public has been critical about his mediocrity rubbing off on you. You need this event to boost your public image.” Kim stared coldly at the Swarovski Crystal encrusted roof of the plane, knowing that the publicist was right. She downed another shot of cherry vodka as the plane descended towards the thick forests of Yellowstone National Park.
Julio’s hands were trembling as he carefully dialed his mom’s number into the home telephone. Because he was only twelve, he would have to convince his mother to drive him three hours to Yellowstone. He pressed the handset to his ear, each ringing tone taunting him that his matriarch had not yet answered his pleas. Halfway through the fifth ring, the smooth voice of his mother’s secretary greeted him with a pleasant “Hello.” Before she could start to say that he had reached the office of Cindy Xaxiscz, CFO of Valbert’s Imported Calzone Zone, Incorporated, Julio demanded to speak to Cindy. “Oh I’m sorry, she's in a meeting at the moment. Can I take a message?” Julio’s heart plummeted at the thought of missing Kim’s appearance due to his mother’s inability to provide transportation services, so he replied cooly,
“This is her son. I seem to have cut off my hand while attempting to reheat a calzone. I need her like, um, right now.”
Cindy was infuriated as she sent away the final paramedic from her house. Believing that her son had actually cut off an extremity, she had immediately called 911 before rushing home. When she found Julio calmly sitting on the couch surrounded by firemen and doctors, hands still fully attached, she realized that this was just another “Kardashian Spasm”. Approximately three times a year, Julio would fake a massive injury in order to get her to drive him to some event the trio was putting on. Cindy was having none of it this time. “Julio, you are never, ever going to see those hopeless hags you uselessly dedicate your life to,” she howled with the fury of a thousand Kanyes after his music video wasn’t nominated for Best New Drama at the Emmys. Julio recoiled as she spoke, her words like acid as they forced their way into his ears. Not wanting to listen to more of the low pH scum that spewed from his mother’s vocals, Julio leaped from the couch and sprinted for the front door. Grabbing the smooth brass knob, he ripped open the door and bounded out to freedom.
As soon as he reached the end of the street, Julio knew that he had made a massive mistake. Yellowstone was hundreds of miles away, and his nonathletic body couldn’t run fast enough to see Kim before she hopped back on her private jet to Calabasas. Julio knew that the only way he was going to see Kim was to go back to his house and face his mother.
Cindy was waiting on the front porch of the house as Julio walked up the driveway. A look of stern disappointment encapsulated her face, making it look like that of a lawn gnome after being repeatedly gnarled with a weed whacker. Without looking at his mother, Julio walked into the house. Kim would make her appearance in less than four hours. He had to do something quickly. As his mother began to cross the porch towards the door, a rush of adrenaline pulsed into Julio’s bloodstream. He grabbed the key to Cindy’s Mercedes, darted out the door once again, threw himself into the driver’s seat of the car, and locked the door.
His mother immediately realized what he was trying to do and ran in front of the car. As Julio started the engine, he stared into the icy tundra of his mother’s eyes. Distilled wrath passed through the windshield as Julio revved the engine, the crisp roar of the $400,000 car booming over Cindy’s demonic shouts. Using every ounce of experience he had from backing out his dad’s minivan from the driveway three years prior, Julio floored the accelerator pedal and the car shot backwards, leaving Cindy standing stunned on the driveway. Julio smiled as, for precisely two and three eighths seconds, he felt all the stresses of life fade away as the monstrous engine flung him away from his mother.
A gentle hum. A bright white light. The smell of Clorox. Julio slowly awoke in St. Bernadette Memorial Hospital. After two and three eighths seconds of freedom, Julio had forgotten to stop the car and backed into the neighbor’s Beamer parked across the street at 34 miles per hour. His mother sat by his bed, tears of regret and shock streaming down her face. As she watched him regain consciousness, she once again stared into his eyes, all of the cold and bitter now replaced with compassion and love. Julio returned this look, realizing that he had acted like a Kanye. As his eyes drifted around the room, he spotted another patient lying to his right. As the last bit of fog lifted from his still shaken brain, his eyes focused on Kim Kardashian.
Her perfect self laid still on the bed, unconscious. She had fallen out of a tree at Yellowstone after climbing it in an attempt to take an artsy Instagram. As she was trying to choose between XXPro or Valencia, she lost her balance on the thin tree branch when the heel of  her Stilettos lost traction. She hit the ground at full speed when Kanye didn’t feel like putting out his arms to catch her.
Julio sat up in the hospital bed. Because his injuries were miraculously minor, he gently stood on his feet and walked to where Kim slept. Her beauty was stunning. The way her autonomous nervous system controlled her breathing was so captivating, so unparalleled by any other woman. He reached out and laid a hand gingerly on her hair, feeling its tremendous softness. As Julio stepped back, he suddenly felt an immense pain in his left cheek as Kanye, who had previously been at the hospital bar instead of with his injured wife, clocked him in the face.
“I am the number one most impactful artist of our generation. I am Shakespeare in the flesh. Walt Disney, Nike, Google,” Kanye whispered. Julio, frozen by the suddenness of the situation, gazed up at the unremarkable man who had just torn him away from the goddess he so desperately craved to see. As his mind settled, he once again rose to his feet. He looked into the satanic soul that loomed behind Kanye’s muddy eyes. “Stay away from Kim,” Kanye growled. In that millisecond Julio’s heart fell from his chest. It hit the sterile linoleum floor and shattered into fragments so fine that the dust mites who escaped the room’s nightly Clorox cleansing would later use them as dental floss. Taking one last look at the divine being that laid drowsily to his side, Julio began to mope back to his mom. Cindy sat in shock, her already overworked mind unable to comprehend the gravity of the past five minutes. As Julio approached his matriarch, a faint feminine whimper emanated from behind him. He spun around to see the glittering eyes of Kim, radiating like one thousand stars on a warm summer eve, lazily gazing at him. A passionate grin grew on Julio as a faint glimmer of a smile flashed across Kim’s face. Before any words had the chance to slip from Julio’s lips, the gentle tugs of fatigue pulled Kim back to sleep.
“I’m ready to go,” Julio said cooly to his mother. As he walked out of the sliding glass doors of St. Bernadette Memorial Hospital, a sense of deep fulfillment arose from his soul. He had met Kim Kardashian.