My Desires Exposed, So There

You know what I’d love to do? You know what I’d really love to do?

I’d love to kill a man.

Yeah. You read that right. Man, that’s gotta be sweet.

To take a man, an ordinary man, and just, you know, KILL him until he’s dead, just take my bare hands and kill, kill, KILL!! Tell me that wouldn’t be the best thing in the world.

Man, if I wasn’t a pacifist!

Then you know what I’d love to do? Do you? Well, I'll tell you. I’d love to take that man I just killed with my bare hands and I’d love to bury him, just bury him in the ground till he’s all gone!

(Let’s call him Jim.)

Goodbye, sucker! Goodbye, Jim! Oh man, oh man, to kill Jim and bury him---I am itching for this, man!

Then, check this out, I’d love to invite Jim’s family to stand over the grave and say to them, "Hey, grieving losers, it was me who killed Jim! Right here! Me! What was the reason, you ask? Why, none at all! He was just standing there in Ben and Jerry’s! I took Jim and I killed him just to show it could be done, baby. Put THAT on your Crispix and eat it!"

Then you know what I’d love to do? Yeah, you guessed it, man. I’d love to build a serene and tasteful monument to Jim, just build it right there over the grave I put him in---or perhaps hire a reputable contractor to do the job, so as to ensure there would be no problems with zoning or seepage.

(I suppose a scholarship in Jim’s name would also be a nice gesture. Perhaps through a local school that teaches the handicapped or something. Though of course Jim himself was not necessarily enfeebled.)

And I’d just laugh, baby, because I killed that man!

Then I’d love to endure incredibly intense feelings of guilt over my part in Jim’s death. You know, total Bergmanesque self-doubt stuff, maybe followed by a public breakdown in the cafeteria of the Air and Space Museum or something, the whole kit and caboodle. That would be so cash, man, that would make. And even sweeter would be when I’d spend a blustery winter's twilight visiting a Unitarian clergyman in my area and confessing on my knees what I’d done, only to have him refuse to forgive me in a shocking act of uncharacteristic cold-heartedness brought on by his own recent personal tragedy. And the best part of all, man, the best part of all would be when, finding myself in abject solitude and in gnawing fear for my immortal soul over my failure to make peace with my God, I’d just take my own life by eating too many grapes.

Can you imagine how intense that would be? Hot damn!

Anyway, I forgot why I started writing this. I just wanted to mention that I started taking this new anti-depressant, Cerebrumel. Works great. Really, really good stuff. Recommended.