Formerly titled “chicken soup for the nonexistant soul”
By Pascal Clark
“Goddammit, what the fuck…”
“Hello?”
“…Hi! Is your mom or dad there?”
“They-can’t-come-to-the-phone-can-I-take-a-message?”
“That’s ok. Is there a time when I can call back?”
“…”
“Hello?”
“…Just a minute. Hold on.”
“Thanks.”
“…”
“Little fuck.”
“Hello?”
“Hi, is Mrs. there?
“Speaking, who is this?”
“My name’s , and I’m with , Inc…”
“What are you selling?”
“I’m selling my soul, ma’am, a little bit at a time.”
“What?”
“I’m just kidding. I’m actually selling subscriptions…”
“No, I’m not interested…”
“… to National Pornographic. It’s only…”
“I’m really not – what?”
“I said it’s only nineteenninetynine per month, ma’am, and for that…”
“What did you say? The name was?”
“Pardon?”
“What is your product, sir.”
“Life insurance, ma’am.”
“That’s not what you said earlier…”
“… Afterlife insurance, that is. Have you accepted Jesus H. Christ asyourlordandsavior?”
“ – I…”
“His love has changed my life, ma’am, and I just wanted to share his gospel with…”
“Right.”
“And I would like to know, have you accepted…”
“Yes, yes, I have, actually, now…”
“So glad to hear it. Now, would you be interested in that credit card?”
“What?”
“We can take care of that right now… what is your address?”
“You’re peddling credit cards now.”
“Yes, ma’am. You’ve been pre-approved for the fast-track to debt. Now…”
“I’m really not interested.”
“Wait! Can’t you squeeze in just this one…”
“…No, and right now, you’re pushing me.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m trying to reach my goal of 5 sales today…”
“I can’t, sorry.”
“It’s just that, if I don’t reach my goal, I’ll have to kill myself. So can you just…”
“What did you say? ”
“Just…”
“Is this a joke?”
“… listen to me…”
“Who is this?”
“Hello?”
“I’m hanging up, now.”
“And please put me on your do-not-call-back list.”
Click.
“If you would like to make a call, please hang up and try again…”
The camera turns on, but he isn’t there. The presidential seal hangs on a blue curtain behind the podium.
He walks on screen, shifting into view, anchoring his hands on the edges of the lectern, swaying slightly, then going rigid as a bayonet…
Michael Durham. 45. White. Male. Raised in a middle class home, learned cynicism at a very young age. Over-protected, came to grips with life when he volunteered for the Army, half-way through college.
Until then he had a very good sense of the hopelessness and meaninglessness of the world that seemed to exclude him. Until then he could only whine about it. But the military gave him another chance. Another release. He was quite the marksman, yes, I believe he was…
He was wounded many times. He feels like his bones are made of lead. He must set off metal detectors all the time. He probably still can’t clean some of the blood stains off. They say the only thing holding his guts together is that tightly-buttoned suit.
He had no glorious war stories, no heroic deeds. He went there, fought, and came back. There are rumors, of course. Most of them about war crimes, though.
When he came home, he went into politics and we learned what happens when…
He glares at the camera.
“Good evening. There have been some serious charges leveled against me recently. It is clear that you no longer consider me to be your representative; the polls show that much, but the protests were a dead give-away.
“I hereby declare my resignation from the presidency, and simultaneously establish my life-long dictatorship. This may come as a shock, but you knew this would happen. And it is everything you deserve.
“After all, Isn’t this what you wanted? Why do you think you voted for me? Did you think I would save the environment? Fuck Mother Nature. If she can’t defend herself, then we’ll rape the whole goddamn planet.
“Or because of my foreign policy? Fuck the Middle East. Fuck the UN, fuck China. And fuck France. We’ll nuke them all to hell, those bastards. Turn the world into a glass marble.
“Or because I was right or left handed? Conservative or liberal? Fuck the Republicans. Fuck the Democrats. All I have to do is throw one miserable scrap of meat between you and you’ll tear each other’s throats out. Save us all a lot of time.
“Did you think I’d fight your holy war? Fuck the religious opiate. Fuck your God, fuck your Christ, fuck your Messiah. Fuck your Allah, your Mohammad, your Vishnu, fuck your Buddha. Fuck your Bible and your Koran.
“And fuck the economy.
“You knew this would happen. This is what you wanted, even though you’re convincing yourself otherwise. You’re animals. Hate, war, and power mongers. Somehow, deep down, you needed me to tell you this.
“If there is truth, you can’t see it. You never will. In the meantime, you just argue, and debate, and fight, and cling to your make-believe morals and ideologies.
“To hell with it. Logic had no power in the first place. Not when everyone has their own fucking reality.
“You knew this would happen. You’ll deny it, of course, and keep fighting and dying. Just don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.
“One last thing. Fuck every son-of-a-bitch out there who thinks he knows everything. Or even thinks he knows something.
“Because you don’t. Do you even know whether you exist or not? How can you be so sure? What about after the Bomb falls, and your body turns to vapor? Do you think you’ll know then?
I tell you,
There isn’t enough space in a room for two people
“I believe,” we each say.
“I believe we were created by god. But that’s just me…”
“I think there are a million ways to interpret scripture, you know,”
“It just depends on (yeah)…”
“I think it’s a fairy tale.”
“Well, I think it’s ok for people to disagree on these things…”
“… Because no one really knows, you know?”
“I believe,” we each say.
What’s the point in believing something
If you can’t really believe in it?
Or are we pretending to be open-minded?
Because you know I’m wrong.
And I know you’re wrong.
The Darwin fish eats the Jesus fish eats the Darwin fish eats…
Until they all get swallowed by the shut-the-fuck-up fish.
But Jesus Christ, I just know it.
Everything in my life has been pointing to this one truth.
You can think what you want. But I believe…
…I don’t know how I know. I believe it…
Wait, did I just hear an echo?
[Weary sigh] Ah, will the world ever be freed
From the tyranny of religion? All these conformists,
All these sheep. Believing whatever their told. My
Wishful thinking is far superior to yours.
That’s just sad. I feel really sorry for you.
We’re all so cynical nowadays, I just hope
You find something to believe in.
(Because I believe in belief)
Yes, I wish I could find the moral high-ground in this argument, too.
Instead, I’ll take you down to hell with me.
The only reason you believe is because you’re weak.
… I’m sorry, I meant to say we
and we’re