The Malignant Me

Will they be punished for their vile and unspeakable stupidity, I wanted to know. Will they be compelled to see the error of their ways? I wanted this very badly you see. I was beside myself with indignation. There was me – the regular me – and there was a new, super-indignant me, hopping up and down like some kind of mental bastard. Hopping up and down like a demented grasshopper. Like a demented grasshopper with the head of a man. The head of a very strange man – a man with wild staring eyes, wispy hair and a weird pointy head. They don’t call me Zippy the Pinhead for nothing, you know! Tell me how they shall be punished!’ I demanded to know. I would not rest until I heard the words. My self-imposed torment would not end until I heard the words, spoken as they were by the Infallible Oracle. ‘No they will not be punished,’ the Oracle told me eventually, after I had done a good deal of hopping up and down, ‘but you on the other hand will be. You will be punished for being a twat….’ Do you ever catch sight of yourself in the mirror and give yourself a fright? I do. I think ‘Who’s that freaky looking bastard and why is he staring at me like that?’ Then I realise of course that it’s me. That de-escalates the initial aggression obviously, but then the anger turns into a different emotion, an emotion that’s a lot harder to handle. We all know what that emotion is of course. So there’s no need to go into it any further. Enough said, as the man said. A word to the wise is enough. The least said the soonest mended, isn’t that right? Will they be punished, will they be punished. I wanted to know. Will they be punished? There was me – the regular me – and there was the new super-melancholy me, the me with a long, long face and the gaunt staring eyes. People often comment on my eyes, come to think of it. ‘You’ve got such gaunt staring eyes,’ they say. ‘Such haunted eyes. How come you look like such a freak?’ I’m very bitter of course. So, so bitter. I’m thinking of all the people out there busy enjoying themselves, having a great time. I’m thinking about all the people out there who are experiencing complete and total egoic fulfilment. I can’t even imagine what that must be like. I can’t even imagine, I can’t even imagine. Can you imagine? Can you imagine what that must be like? So so sweet. It must be so sweet – as sweet as syrup. Syrupy sweet. Sweet like syrup of figs. It’s the sad fact that I don’t even know what that sweetness tastes like that cuts me so deep. When the pain becomes too intense, too close to the mark, I have to cut and run. I go into distraction mode in a big way then. We all get sad sometimes, we all get sad sometimes. There are lots of sad things to think about, aren’t there? So many sad things to think about. Not that we ever do think about them of course. I don’t anyway. I’m looking for ultimate egoic fulfilment. I’m on the quest. On the quest, nothing but the best. I am thinking about all the people who are out there having great lives, and it’s like a poison dart hitting me in the heart. I am beside myself with indignation – there is me – the regular me – and there is the new, super-malignant me. Will they be punished, I want to know. Will they be punished?









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