madhatter's coffee.

Welcome to the rabbit's hole. A blog on pulp.

TODAY.

is the first day of the end of your life. grim fandango.
well. so let’s start, hell doesn’t look so bad. in fact, it’s a day with the sun so bright in the sky, that i rather wish, there would be no sun. i mean, well. everything keeps going wrong. as usual. again, there was no telegramm, telling me that some marvelous coincidence made me a ceo of this country’s fourth largest newspaper. and i was so intelligent to give fifty bucks to mister i-need-it-more ’cause me was too dumb too look at the right signs.

sometimes. sometimes, one wishs, he had never existed. do you know this feeling? sure, you know it, you’re the one who’s worse than me [remember?] well. sometimes, i just wish, i could simply walk away, starring pathetically at some distant point and mumbling “hey, what kind of cursed guy’s this? i don’t know him, no i don’t know him, yes i don’t know him.” yes, sometimes i wish i could be somebody else & i cannot.
yet, in meeting some of nastier customers, i tend to ask myself, if those strange figures aren’t actually some of those, who made my dream come true. maybe some ideosyncratic scientist, overwhelmed by an undeserved genius, invented a method how to leave your cursed body and let him suffer his pains, while you can go to some nice funeral and eat as much cake you could hold within your stomach… without anything deserving this naming.
well, and those contemporaries of mine are… or, well, are not those cursed bodies tumbling around, making hell a place, much more worse than … ahm. well. than hell.
the question is, what to do with this poor creatures, hanging around and talking very nice things nobody wants to listen to, while their egos hang around at a nice funeral? maybe, they are ruling the world already, and me for myself does not want to me ruled by some brainless funeral-missing creature. that could be, by the way, an explanation, why funerals are so expensive. ahm.
what a poor world is this, with such people ruling it and waiting for their funeral.

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This entry was posted on 05/10/2004 by in Stories..
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