The Dinner Party of the Damned

Having said what needed to be said I was silent. Silent and glum. Morose, even. I had nothing more to say, you see. I had nothing more to say and I was even starting to regret the little bit that I had said – I couldn’t help thinking that I would have been much better off keeping my mouth closed. It’s always like that isn’t it? Words slip out so very easily, but once they are out there out then there is no rewind button! That’s the Irreversibility of Life of course, you can shoot forward with the greatest of ease – sometimes without even knowing that you have done so – but you can’t take even the tiniest step back. That’s the Irreversibility of Life right there my friends, and it can get you into an awful lot of trouble! No end of trouble in fact. It’s frightening how much trouble you can get into in life, isn’t it? So very frightening. When you get to think about it it’s actually paralysing. You just want to curl up into a ball and start shaking. If you thought about it too much you would curl up into the faecal position and that would be that. End of story – you’ll never stir again and that’s why you’re so much better not knowing what happens next! If we knew in advance what was in store for us then life would immediately become impossible. That’s my thinking on the matter anyway. For what it’s worth. Which probably isn’t very much, you’re probably saying to yourself. Only at the same time you know that it’s true, of course. Only at the same time you know bloody well that it’s true, as do we all. You know that damn well. The restaurant was closed until further notice, the sign on the wall said. It was closed for refurbishment. It wasn’t an ordinary restaurant of course – it was the Restaurant of Pain. It was the Restaurant of Suffering and it was famed far and wide. It was famed far and wide on account of how you could obtain any type of suffering you wanted. The very rarest, most exotic forms of suffering. All around me people were laughing and talking and shouting and bawling. They’re a very exclusive clientele as you might imagine – a discerning and sophisticated clientele. Gesticulating and posturing, each trying to outdo the other in their conversational skills. The wit was as sharp as a knife and the banter was as light as helium. “Exceptional circumstances call for exceptional measures”, I offered, keen to offer up whatever wise advice I could. “You are laughing now”, I told them, “but it won’t last – you can be very sure of that.” No one took any notice of me however – the party continued full swing. The party continued without a break. This was the Dinner Party of the Damned but no one wanted to admit it…








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