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Something Wonderful is going to Happen! (Installment 3, Chapters 4 & 5)
The following is the 3rd installment of a larger work. It is a satire of sorts with elements of dark comedy. It follows a main character with a clearly defined morality that is well removed from normalcy.
This story and its subsequent installments are graphic, vulgar, and very likely per the definitions of some, blasphemous. IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED, DON’T READ THIS STORY!!!
The Book of Guy: Chapter 3
I had begun to think there were no kingdoms that were worth overthrowing that a guy like me could overthrow. I was thinking that I’d just give up and follow like most everyone and rent what pu##y came by when it did and be thankful for it. Then I turned the TV to old Hal Strong--a hero of sorts to me. He knew what it was all about. Having women on his show and judging them for what was important, and what was important almost always required they take their clothes off.
But this show, it was different. A guy had called in to talk about Hal’s wife leaving him. Hal wouldn’t answer--cut him right off. For the first time I saw weakness in the man, this self proclaimed King of the Airways. The shock jock was weak. This divorce had gotten to him. I could tell he just didn’t want to be there or King anymore. Of all the stupid things a man can do there is no dumber thing than letting a woman under your skin.
My mind raced. Was this Hal Strong a bona fide King? He was from a city. He commanded much pu##y. He had reached his position through confidence and self-proclamation. He followed many FCC rules, but look at all he had broken. Even the most powerful of Kings in this blasted democracy had to cow from time to time to get what they wanted.
Yes, a King, and now the current state of things, a lame duck ripe for dethronement.
It took only an instant for the caller to be dismissed, but in that instant I saw everything I needed to know. Kingdom’s come when we are strong and leave when we are weak. Hal Strong was weak, and maybe by usurping him and his little radio show I could move on to something bigger. Hell, it would have to be better than my current situation, flunking out of a thirty person journalism department, students included, at a college where ninety percent of the newspaper‘s articles were focused on cows or wheat. Maybe my harem wouldn’t be as big as I wanted, but I might be able to own a few pu##ies, maybe more than a few. It was a starting point, anyhow.
The whole thing was enough to get me going. I left for New York City the next day on a bus with $500 dollars in my pocket, a few things I’d written, and a duffel bag.
From on High: Chapter 1
It’s your hope that makes my life meaningful.
Do you really think I’m so trivial as to care what apples you eat? The whole thing was a farce. Of course they ate the apple! I would have eaten the apple in the same situation. Anyone that wouldn’t have eaten the apple is useless to me. A person who wouldn’t eat the apple is a person without hope, and people without hope are useless to me!
To those truly without hope, I try to give hope, because without hope you give up on making order, and when you give up on making order, there is no fun in the game.
For eons I made hopeless creatures large and small. At first watching them live and work was interesting, but in the end, it became the same old masturbation. These creatures did exactly as I scripted them. The fun for me is watching you place your order.
The Garden of Eden was little more than what you people would call a controlled experiment, similar to the rat given an electric shock when it eats the wrong piece of cheese. But humans, they put all this reason to it, try to make it meaningful. It’s not meaningful! Nothing you could ever do is meaningful! Yes I made Eve from Adam’s rib, but this is simply because I could. It is hap. I could have as easily done things the other way around. You are all equal--soulless, insignificant, clockwork toys. I little care what you do, as long as it is random and violent and you attach your foolish order to it.
If truth be known, I would have grown bored of the good couple in the garden eventually and destroyed or distorted them like I had so many of the others if Eve hadn’t picked that apple. That was the experiment: to see if I could make a thing out of my control somewhat--something I could laugh at for its stupidity and create, kill, and on occasion, make live again without remorse. You got to make them live again on occasion. Miracles are catalysts of hope, and when there is hope, there is hate and there is war and entertainment abounds.
A while back, a term of time that to you would have seemed lengthy, I wrote a book. This book in its entirety and unabridged no longer exists, at least not one that is in human hands. I think two or three may be scattered here and there waiting to be unearthed. I forget where. I have so much to keep up with that on occasion I forget things. At one point there were around a million copies, but most were destroyed after they were manipulated by people, primarily men trying to gain power.
To be honest, I don’t even have a copy of the original anymore, and much of its content is lost to me. But I am almost positive there are a few around.
But I digress. The point is that the writing served its purpose. It caused people to act terrible and fight and kill one another. People began adding sequel after sequel and even an occasional prequel. (People don’t like prequels as much. Just look at how Star Wars went downhill.) I especially like the ones that involve me sending down my only son. Those are especially ridiculous for reasons beyond your understanding. Not to say they are anymore ridiculous than the things I wrote.
And even when the authors of these texts, unlike me, had a goal of peace (I’m sorry. The word peace makes me chuckle--a made up concept by the long haired shapers of peaceful rebellion, an equally silly term. And you wonder why I find you guys so entertaining?)...anyway, even when the goal was this peace, the ultimate outcome was the same: hate and war.
So I have become bored again. And if you value your stupid life at all, the last thing on earth you want is a bored God. So rather than crush you all and start over again, I’ve decided to write a new book. One that should p##s off most everybody--really shake things up. Like the first there is little rhyme or reason to it, but I’m sure you guys will find order anyway. It is what you are programmed to do.
The meat of the story, which you have probably already gathered, concerns our freethinking young hero who will name himself at some point Guy Mann. I believe he really exists. There are so many of you guys, maybe I dreamt him. But because this is a religious text, his authenticity is hardly of importance. (And Mary never got f##ked? Hahaha!)
Whether he exists or not, he behaves in a way that much pleases me. I set the book in the good old US of A because the people there are so G##damned full of themselves. (I like that word, by the way. I consider it flattering.) People that are full of themselves are the best about insisting there is order.
This whole freedom farce was fun at first, so I let it pass, but all in all, if I don’t intercede soon we’re bound to have another Canada or Switzerland on our hands within three or four centuries. And I swear to God (This is especially funny when I do it.) I’m gonna destroy the whole G##damned thing if I have to deal with another Canada or Switzerland in the world.
So I’m writing this book to put out there for you guys to manipulate and add order to in hopes of rekindling the massive erection that watching all your hate for one another used to give me. And you better hope God gets wood. Your lives depend on it.