Waking Up In The Waiting Room

From where I sit I fancy I can catch sight, ever so often, of the Great Evil One as he goes about his business. He’s bald and short, with an immensely wrinkly old face. He is ensconced as usual in his office, sorting out piles of paperwork, muttering away incessantly to himself under his breath. He is hard at work filling in forms. I was expecting to receive a compliment but it was the opposite I got. It was the opposite… ‘What is the nullity?’ I ask myself thoughtfully. ‘What is the nullity?’ I answer myself only after a while. ‘The nullity,’ I reply carefully, ‘is made up of all the doings of a person who has nothing else to think about other than themselves. The nullity is that self-perpetuating thought-form which is produced out of all the musings and preoccupations of a person who has only themselves to muse upon, only themselves to be preoccupied with…

 

I was expecting a compliment but it was the opposite I got – it’s always the opposite I get! Expecting a compliment, expecting a compliment – always expecting a compliment. From where I sit in the overcrowded waiting room I can hear the nullity muttering to itself in the shadows, muttering to itself in the hidden places. The nullity is always muttering to itself, always telling itself things under its breath. Its tone is accusatory. It’s always harping on about something is the nullity! It’s always harping on about nothing at all.

 

The mutterings of the nullity are full of tremendous evil. There’s nothing in the mutterings of the nullity except evil – what else could there be? What else could there be? The nullity is the repository of all evil in the world, after all. All evil is here, all evil is here. All evil is here and it never stops muttering to itself. Not that it’s ever got anything to say course – evil never does.

 

From where I sit I can catch glimpses of all sorts of things, but none of them are real. Most certainly none of them are real. I was expecting a compliment of course but it never came. All I got was dirty looks. All I got was a whole heap of shit, a whole truckload of shit. The nullity grows arms and legs in no time at all; it’s up and about before you can say ‘Bob’s your uncle’, or before you can say ‘Jack Robinson’, or whatever else. The nullity will grow arms and legs in a flash and then it’s up and running. It’s up and running the same as always. It’ll grow so many arms you’ll think it’s an octopus!

 

I fancy I can catch sight of the nullity in people’s faces and when this happens their faces all morph into the same face. All faces morph into the nullity’s face and I can see it muttering away incessantly to itself in its own private world. It is talking to itself – it is always talking to itself, even though it’s got nothing to say. The nullity is the quintessence of all that is petty, all that is futile, and it lives in all of us! That’s how I would describe the nullity. It goes about its business; it tends to its affairs. It goes back over old issues. It never tires of going back over old issues – that’s how petty it is. The nullity never tires of revisiting the same old ridiculous petty grievances and yet none of these petty grievances ever mattered a damn in the first place.

 

The nullity puts you under a spell. It puts you into a type of enchanted sleep. You’ll never notice the time pass but pass it will and then you’ll be like Rip van Winkle; you’ll be like Rip van Winkle with a beard that goes right down to the ground! You’ll be just like Rip van Winkle – waking up in the waiting room!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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