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Post by Francis Fortunato on Sept 8, 2020 7:55:00 GMT
Malcontent nurtures evil. Evil is in the hearts of all man, a great and terrible tree with constricting roots which knot at our hearts, and malcontent nurtures it’s saplings. Vile boredom allows it grow and flourish, flowering buds of terror and unspeakable actions. Boredom allows one a certain clarity. Both a haziness and a clarity. A clarity in the nature of the universe, how awful and unyielding the forces of nature are, but a haze which blinds the mind’s eye from knowing life and love and happiness. This dreadful malcontent with the world as a whole is like a poison, which rots the mind and mangles the emotion. A life of privilege often breeds a life of boredom, and thus a life of malcontent, and eventually the tree of evil will flourish. Many “great evils”, that is, some of the most vile creatures spawned by man and spurned into the pits of hell were plagued by boredom and wrought with an insatiable gnawing for something more, something they did not know, a void which needed filling. But, it was insatiable, for they knew not the contents which fill the void in the happy and the healthy. Warm and loving relationships, friendships and families. Trivial delights which the nameless heaps of sheeple so often neglect. Boredom is the enemy of all mankind. Boredom is a fate worst than death, and on this silent dreary night, Francis Fortunato wished for death. He was bored, and weary, disgusted with the world as a whole and feeling quite unfulfilled. He dredged amongst the sheeple, the animals, the creatures beneath him. That great tree had ahold of his heart, and it festered by the minute as boredom flourished.
University, and the supposed pursuit of knowledge and a better life, at first seemed like a grand and exciting venture. Something bold, brash, and new. Nay. He should have known better. He was a smart fellow, how could he have been so.... Blind? College was a tool. It was the wrench which fixed faulty cogs in the grand and hideous machine. The clockwork monstrosity of society. College was meant only to brainwash the masses. To obliterate aspiration. It was here to tell you “you can’t achieve anything grand. You can’t achieve anything glorious. Here’s your engineering degree. Now, off to work!” It was horrible! He hated it! He hated the people, despised them, loathed them, wished death upon them. He saw the same, miserable delinquent children, toiling away with vain aspirations of being better than the sum of their miserable lowly parents, for careers which paid little more, or even less than their forefathers. They were nothing, and they would go nowhere. It was horrifying... God.... He was like them! Perish the thought! Woe, cruel irony, why must fate deal a dirty hand? Damnable luck, Lady Luck, the b!%&# always did know to beat the tar out of him.
In this silent night, this unholy night, he needed an escape from the drudgery and disrespect. From the hell, the merry-go-round of madness. Most college lads spent their nights in the club or at parties, boozing away and dancing badly. True, he was a popular charming fellow, and did such things, but they were not entertainment. In fact he despised such things, only committing to such fruitless pursuits for the sake of vanity and appearance. No, he had a terrible hobby. Not a hobby, as he saw it. He saw it more as a way of life, his dreams his aspirations his anguish and hate. The Last Laugh. His parents were in hell, his friends were false, and his dreams were naught. This was all he had. This was all he wanted. To make the world burn. To make it suffer, like he has. Like he does. Make it pay, make them all pay for his misery. He smiled, a grin broken and vengeful.
Work felt so eery that night... This was the same tale, that of boredom, evil, and nihilistic horror, but told from a different perspective. A guard of one of the local museums, name of Ray Dougherty. He always hated having to creep through the Egypt Exhibition. The air was so cold, and the aura so foul. The corpse of some long dead pharaoh seared through the back of his mind like fire burning through tarp. Black lidless eyes, like a void, so dead as the shriveled up husk lay there, limp and dead. It’s skin, rugged and dry like a hairless mange riddled canine. Jaw agape as though it died screaming indecipherable cries of horror, anguished and terrible. Then it’s subjects, nameless faceless skulls sealed within a case of glass and nestled cozily on a blanket. A dozen eyes watching, watching, forever watching. Glaring at old Ray as his flashlight glimmered across the halls, fanned too and fro in search for an intruder he knew did not exist. It was true, more often than not the intruder did not exist. But tonight, a boring dull night, was different. A creature ambled in from the skylight, dropping from above with a slight jingle and a grin. With a crack against the back of his head and thud to the floor, he fell, not dead like the other corpses in the room, but unconscious. There was a grin.
Boredom wrought about an act of evil. That of the sin of sloth. A vile and grotesque act, lounging about with not a care in the world as the universe crumbles around you. Ed Grems, a fatty fellow ensnared with the same hideous rut day-in and day-out. Wake up at 3:00 PM, shower and coffee at 4:00, leave at 5:00 be at on the clock at 6:00 for a dreadful and dreary overnight shift with little of event or note. Employed at this god-forsaken hellhole for ten years, but at least it was a stable income? He did so loathe the job, but he needed it. Tonight, for him, was a night of bad luck... His sloth would cost him dearly, for on that night it was fated that his employment be terminated. Ray Dougherty collapsed into unconsciousness on screen 4, the Egypt Exhibotion, but Ed did not notice. He lounged cozily into a swivel seat. A bowl of popcorn nestled within the fatty lump of his stomach. His eyes glued on screen 20, which had none other than Bea Arthur as Dorothy Zbornak from the Golden Girls within. Ed chuckled quietly with a crunch of popcorn as Dorothy prattled on with her usual dry wit to Betty White as Rose Nylund. A pale mask with a horrific grin smiled cruelly at Ed from screen 4. A snap of the finger, and the screen went black. Then another, then another. A stroke of bad luck for poor old Ed, especially bad as he did not even notice.
The cameras are out, but the show goes on! For The Last Laugh is not here to entertain the ramshackle bumf#%& guards of these halls of history! No, no, no! Do not delude yourselves, for he is here for you, and I, and himself! Let’s talk about this entertainment... His shimmering magnanimous gaze cast off into the shadows, joy swirling around the room for it was time for the show! He danced and he skipped as cameras went out with but a snap of the finger, falling limply, screens gone black. The Judas jester moonwalked out of the Egypt Exhibition, pixie shoes sliding backwards with the tingle of bells. Another camera went out in the neighboring corridor as The Last Laugh moonwalked in, and with a euphoric rush of adrenaline, he kept into the air with a spin, arms and legs spread into the shape of an X as he lightly hovered for but a moment, and confetti thrown out all sides. He stuck the landing, colorful glitter trickling down all around him like rainfall. He clasped his fingers behind his back, dauntless grin glancing and admiring all around. Francis stepped forwards jovially, jester bells all a tingle. He admires the art, the architecture, the pizazz! The wow! It was all so very gorgeousbut not as gorgeous as himself, of course! Ensnared by the beauty of it all, the Last Laugh could not help but dance... His fingers curled delicately into the air, clasping his nonexistent partner, and like that, the Last Laugh performed a lonely tango. Hand to air, he swayed forwards, them swirled around, a ballroom dance alone forever. The final room, held a new showcase item for the museum. A massive glistening gem, one with a bizarre and horrific history. Legend says you could hear screams and laughter abound when near it. No one ever did, but the opportunity was far too juicy... Francis’ desires and inner machinations were an enigma, but they made sense to him, and said inner machinations desired this, the Giggling Gem, a glorious green emerald like none other. He lurched towards the casing, the glass reflecting ten figures left to hover above it. He smiled at his own reflection, eyes roaring like fire. The glass shattered, and it was his, his gleaming jovial mask glistening from all angles of the gem. Euphoria tingled down his spine, and he knew he needed to celebrate. The gem was his... So who cares what gets broken and shattered!? The room shuttered and sputtered, and with a horrible dance, the devil made vases shatter, paintings rip, and baubles explode. He danced and he twirled, expenses CRASHES and SMASHES spattering all around him. He twirled and he spun, confetti spraying all over as displays crumbled and objects toppled over. "It’s mine! It’s mine!! UEE HEE HEE HEE!!!”
University, and the supposed pursuit of knowledge and a better life, at first seemed like a grand and exciting venture. Something bold, brash, and new. Nay. He should have known better. He was a smart fellow, how could he have been so.... Blind? College was a tool. It was the wrench which fixed faulty cogs in the grand and hideous machine. The clockwork monstrosity of society. College was meant only to brainwash the masses. To obliterate aspiration. It was here to tell you “you can’t achieve anything grand. You can’t achieve anything glorious. Here’s your engineering degree. Now, off to work!” It was horrible! He hated it! He hated the people, despised them, loathed them, wished death upon them. He saw the same, miserable delinquent children, toiling away with vain aspirations of being better than the sum of their miserable lowly parents, for careers which paid little more, or even less than their forefathers. They were nothing, and they would go nowhere. It was horrifying... God.... He was like them! Perish the thought! Woe, cruel irony, why must fate deal a dirty hand? Damnable luck, Lady Luck, the b!%&# always did know to beat the tar out of him.
In this silent night, this unholy night, he needed an escape from the drudgery and disrespect. From the hell, the merry-go-round of madness. Most college lads spent their nights in the club or at parties, boozing away and dancing badly. True, he was a popular charming fellow, and did such things, but they were not entertainment. In fact he despised such things, only committing to such fruitless pursuits for the sake of vanity and appearance. No, he had a terrible hobby. Not a hobby, as he saw it. He saw it more as a way of life, his dreams his aspirations his anguish and hate. The Last Laugh. His parents were in hell, his friends were false, and his dreams were naught. This was all he had. This was all he wanted. To make the world burn. To make it suffer, like he has. Like he does. Make it pay, make them all pay for his misery. He smiled, a grin broken and vengeful.
Work felt so eery that night... This was the same tale, that of boredom, evil, and nihilistic horror, but told from a different perspective. A guard of one of the local museums, name of Ray Dougherty. He always hated having to creep through the Egypt Exhibition. The air was so cold, and the aura so foul. The corpse of some long dead pharaoh seared through the back of his mind like fire burning through tarp. Black lidless eyes, like a void, so dead as the shriveled up husk lay there, limp and dead. It’s skin, rugged and dry like a hairless mange riddled canine. Jaw agape as though it died screaming indecipherable cries of horror, anguished and terrible. Then it’s subjects, nameless faceless skulls sealed within a case of glass and nestled cozily on a blanket. A dozen eyes watching, watching, forever watching. Glaring at old Ray as his flashlight glimmered across the halls, fanned too and fro in search for an intruder he knew did not exist. It was true, more often than not the intruder did not exist. But tonight, a boring dull night, was different. A creature ambled in from the skylight, dropping from above with a slight jingle and a grin. With a crack against the back of his head and thud to the floor, he fell, not dead like the other corpses in the room, but unconscious. There was a grin.
Boredom wrought about an act of evil. That of the sin of sloth. A vile and grotesque act, lounging about with not a care in the world as the universe crumbles around you. Ed Grems, a fatty fellow ensnared with the same hideous rut day-in and day-out. Wake up at 3:00 PM, shower and coffee at 4:00, leave at 5:00 be at on the clock at 6:00 for a dreadful and dreary overnight shift with little of event or note. Employed at this god-forsaken hellhole for ten years, but at least it was a stable income? He did so loathe the job, but he needed it. Tonight, for him, was a night of bad luck... His sloth would cost him dearly, for on that night it was fated that his employment be terminated. Ray Dougherty collapsed into unconsciousness on screen 4, the Egypt Exhibotion, but Ed did not notice. He lounged cozily into a swivel seat. A bowl of popcorn nestled within the fatty lump of his stomach. His eyes glued on screen 20, which had none other than Bea Arthur as Dorothy Zbornak from the Golden Girls within. Ed chuckled quietly with a crunch of popcorn as Dorothy prattled on with her usual dry wit to Betty White as Rose Nylund. A pale mask with a horrific grin smiled cruelly at Ed from screen 4. A snap of the finger, and the screen went black. Then another, then another. A stroke of bad luck for poor old Ed, especially bad as he did not even notice.
The cameras are out, but the show goes on! For The Last Laugh is not here to entertain the ramshackle bumf#%& guards of these halls of history! No, no, no! Do not delude yourselves, for he is here for you, and I, and himself! Let’s talk about this entertainment... His shimmering magnanimous gaze cast off into the shadows, joy swirling around the room for it was time for the show! He danced and he skipped as cameras went out with but a snap of the finger, falling limply, screens gone black. The Judas jester moonwalked out of the Egypt Exhibition, pixie shoes sliding backwards with the tingle of bells. Another camera went out in the neighboring corridor as The Last Laugh moonwalked in, and with a euphoric rush of adrenaline, he kept into the air with a spin, arms and legs spread into the shape of an X as he lightly hovered for but a moment, and confetti thrown out all sides. He stuck the landing, colorful glitter trickling down all around him like rainfall. He clasped his fingers behind his back, dauntless grin glancing and admiring all around. Francis stepped forwards jovially, jester bells all a tingle. He admires the art, the architecture, the pizazz! The wow! It was all so very gorgeous
| Akira Hayashi |
