a quiet life (part I)

Is it possible to write a story that lacks conflict, heroes, or villains?

Let’s find out

****

My guts were boiling.

I climbed out of bed, dropped my pants, and evacuated my bowels. It was a good shit.

Afterwards, I shaved my balls. And ass. I climbed in the shower and measured my penis: 3.5 inches soft, 5in hard (5 1/4in from the taint).

I shoved some eggs and toast down my throat and grabbed a coffee. As I was walking out to the driveway, my neighbor confronted me.

“If you blast your radio at 2am again, I am calling the cops!” he said.

I pulled out my Glock. “Look buddy,” I replied, “you’re on my property. That means I have the right to unleash holy hell right into your skull. So don’t fuck with me!”

Then I got into my car and turned up the radio. I bounced up and down all the way to work to the sound of ‘Big Fat Funky Booty’ by the Spin Doctors on repeat.

When I arrived, I walked into the office. “Hey baby,” I said to the receptionist, “when are you gonna give me a shot at those titties?”

“I’ve already reported you to Human Resources,” she replied. “Please don’t speak to me.”

“You don’t have to be such a bitch, sweetheart,” I said.

I went to my desk and pulled out a bottle of scotch. “A little early in the morning for that, isn’t it Bill?” my boss asked.

“You know I’m never sober before 8am, Dick,” I replied.

“Damn it Bill! I should fire you but you always do your best work drunk.”

“Thanks Dick. Say, when am I getting that raise?”

“Once when we get those lawsuits settled from all the faulty products you designed, you’ll get a 20% raise.”

“Fuckin snowflakes,” I said. “A little cancer never hurt anyone.”

“I think the judge will agree,” Dick replied. “He should. We paid him enough money.”

“Thanks Dick. You’re the best.”

Dick went back to his office and I pulled up porn on my work computer. It was a productive day.

TO BE CONTINUED

hard work has killed millions of people

I once knew a psychopath that loved saying “why do tomorrow what can be done today?”

Nah.

More like “why do today what can be done tomorrow?”

As my father always said: “if you want something done right, get someone else to do it.”

Allegedly William James said “act as if what you do makes a difference.” But the truth is you should “act as if what you do makes absolutely NO difference.” Because it doesn’t.

You’re only here for a small blip in humanity’s history. And humans will only be around for a very short time in comparison to the immensity of the universe. So don’t worry about it, nothing we do here matters 😎

Even the history books will return to dust.

“Falling down is an accident. Staying down is a choice.”

And a good choice 👍

Looking Down the Barrel

So I was watching porn on my work computer when I heard the sounds of death blasting from my co-worker’s phone.

I said, “Dale, what are you watching?”

He said, “It’s a documentary about the Battle of Tannenberg during World War I. It was a nightmarish time in global affairs. Men were senselessly butchered for the sake of gaining a few yards on the battlefield. How callous were such leaders? To permit the deaths of so, so many people? Is human life that meaningless to those in power? How could god permit such suffering? Have we been forsaken?”

“We’ll keep it down over there,” I replied.

So I went back to minding my own business when I heard Dale loading his Colt Cobra.

I said, “Dale, so help me god, if you don’t quiet down I will grab that gun and use it myself.”

“Sorry,” he replied “I’m just a little suicidal from my multiple bankruptcy filings and sexual assault charges.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I said

Finally when there was a little peace and quiet, Dale comes around the corner pointing his gun at me and crying profusely.

“I’m sorry Jim”, he says. “Everyone has abandoned me. My wife left. And my kids won’t talk to me.”

“So what do you want from me, Dale?” I replied. “My wallet? The keys to my car?”

“I want someone to listen to me for once in my life! I had a very lonely childhood. My parents never listened to me, I had no friends. I suffered from dyslexia and all my teachers thought I was stupid. Just absolutely stupid! I’m not a bad person. I’m just misunderstood and have been my entire life. Just for once, I want someone to understand me! That’s all I’ve ever wanted!”

Out of frustration, Dale fired his Colt directly into my computer. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, not knowing what would happen next. As I looked into Dale’s eyes in terror, I knew that he didn’t have the heart to shoot me. He was just a broken man and out of options.

Finally, he laid the gun down and sat down then buried his head in his hands. We both sat in silence for a few moments.

“Well,” I said. “How about I just give you my wallet.”