Dok Holocaust: will babble about his success in life.

Today at work, while doing menial paperwork in a trance state that I find helpful for doing menial paperwork, I thought back to my college graduation many years ago.  I had studied hard for years to achieve documented proof of successful higher education, and on that glorious day, as I walked back to the family car (mom’s Vibe, from back before she also had a convertible), I remember my mother saying “You had a pimple on your nose.”

There were no words of praise or celebration.  I was then dropped back off at the house and my parents went somewhere without me, and I was left to face the fact that the greatest achievement of my young life was completely meaningless to my parents.  It saddened me thn, and I was very depressed for several years about it.  At one point I confronted my mother, the great Vampire Holocaust, Queen of All Undeads, about her cruel dismissal of what was, at the time, my life’s only achievement.  Her only response was “get over it.”

I never did manage to get revenge on her, as she is an immortal creature of darkness that feeds on the suffering of others and highly proficient in the arts of necromancy and torture, but tonight I came to a greater understanding of this event.

You see, Vampire Holocaust has achieved success.  she is a leader in her industry, her skills are in high demand, and she has removed all opposition to her will by doing hard work for long hours.  She has a large suburban home and many cars and fancy pieces of furniture as a testament to her victories in battle, and I believe she has a secret collection of the adrenal glands tenderly removed from each of her foes with her own razor-sharp bone fingertips.

Needless to say, I inherited from this powerful necromancer I call Mom a capacity for similar success.  I was in fact invited as a child to study at a special school where I would live a highly regimented life of long hours and hard work to achieve success not unlike my mother’s.  Thankfully, my father intervened.

My father has likewise achieved success, but in a different way.  Unlike my mother, who learned powerful Italian necromancy at my grandmother’s knee, he was tutored by Mothman, The Jersey Devil, and other Appalachian sasquatch-folk in the arts of a different path:  the way of the Sagacious Donkey, known to the layman as “being a wise-ass.”

With keen powers of discernment augmented by his military training, he saw in the docile, somnolent demeanor of his ever-napping child a capacity for greatness, but not greatness hard-won by the long hours and hard work of Vampire Holocaust’s sorcerous ways.  My father, Nuclear Holocaust, saw in me a heroic capacity for leisure, the ability to lackadaisically achieve heretofore unimagined heights of goofing off, slacking off, puttering around, and couch-potatofication.

“Work smarter, not harder” he would often tell me, encouraging me to use my intuitive dislike of effort and movement to find the most time, energy, and resource efficient solutions to any problem so that i might return to a state of blissful inactivity as quickly and comfortably as possible.  It was this vital instruction that allowed me to discern a method of budgeting my time and energy in high school to get by with a B average while maximizing the time available for my leisure pursuits of the time such as comic books, role playing games, and horror movies.  This same technique served me well in college, allowing me to invest as much time as possible into the chasing of girls.

The chasing of girls is the one area in my life where I failed to apply this valuably slackful strategy of my forbears.  I had been misled by many romance-comedies to believe that relationships are things one must work at, even if one would rather be doing something else.  The identity of the girl I chose to chase more than any other is lost to history, but I recall that she was a powerful sorceress like my mother, with the same ability to induce crippling despair by merely uttering a word of power.  I was greatly impressed with her knowledge of black magic and sadistic demeanor, and even thought that by chasing such a girl, I could achieve the impossible and win my mother’s approval.

Fortunately, it was not to be.  One who follows the teachings of the sagacious donkey and acts like a Wise Ass may indeed live a life of great leisure and delight, but their friendly, slackful ways are often very irritating to those around them, and the girl I chased responded to my lackadaisical attitude with bone talons and shrill, ear-piercing cries as she attempted to conjure knowledge of a killing word from the depths of the void beyond hell.   It was her harpy cry that snapped me out of my foolish belief that the enjoyment of anything, especially the company of another person, requires work, and I was able to treat her with the same beatific indifference with which I regarded the rest of the world.

Pleased that she had taught me this vital lesson that reinforced my slothfulness, that I was now unflappable in my magnanimous lassitude and no longer capable of being tricked into working, she set me free to achieve the great leisure of which I have always been capable.  I later learned that she was a Leanhaun Sidhe, a species of vampiric gnome from the magical land of New England, and was an agent of my own mother’s patron goddess, Kali the Destroyer, sent to get my life’s journey back on track on the Path of the Wise Ass.

Since then, I have done as little as possible.  I have leisurely pursued various creative pursuits until they became too much like work, at which point I set them aside for the more purified leisure of raw consumption, and have indeed achieved the nest of comic books and horror movie dvds that i often dreamt of as a young wise-ass.  I have secured a job where I may achieve sufficient results with minimal effort and even dodged the mowing of grass and other chores i disliked as a boy.

sometimes, when I think back to the years I spent working at having fun rather than achieving fun by not working, i do pine for the company of someone to share my treasures with, someone who will appreciate my relentless pursuit of gluttony and sloth, someone who enjoys my goofy nature and will pay a high premium for my chaste yet whimsical company.

I know, however, that such a person does not exist in the world, that there is no sense in paying to watch someone else slack off when they could just keep their money and do their own slacking, so I do not bother to try to meet new people, and merely delight in the various on-again off-again friendships I have held onto for years, alienating my boyhood companions with some fit of despair or paranoia then celebrating the restoration of our friendship when they are bored and want someone funny to talk to.

Tags: childhood, gnome, Kali, lich, necromancy, nostalgia, reminiscing, sidhe, slack, vampire