2 Idiot Stories
The current idiotocracy roars on. Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing (but evil), fooling everybody that the rational rules the world.
Idiot Story 1
The devil was having a discouraging day. He just wasn’t getting anywhere, spreading hate, division, evil in the world.
Oh sure, there was the regular tragedies occuring but not on the scale of his liking. He sat down on a park bench to think things through and find a solution.
A dishreveled man sat down beside him. He looked like an idiot. After a few sentences, the devil recognized he was truly an idiot.
The idiot explained that he was having problems with his neighbor. His neighbor’s dog was always barking and keeping him awake at night. He said he couldn’t think, he lacked so much sleep, life was unbearable.
The devil realized this was his chance.
He instructed the young idiot to take his gun and shoot the dog. It would all work out. People would respect him for taking things into his own hands, handling his own problems, himself.
Of course, the idiot being an idiot, thought this was a brilliant idea. He thanked the devil and went back home to get his gun.
The devil rubbed his hands. He went home to rub his glass ball and watch the resulting course of events.
That rainy, stormy night the idiot went to his neighbor’s yard and shot the dog point-blank under the cover of the storm. The barking stopped immediately and the idiot felt a little less like an idiot immediately.
The next morning, the neighbor’s wife woke up and went outside to cut some grass for her rabbits. She saw their beloved dog laying there in a pool of blood. Silent as can be. Angered, she followed the footprints back to idiot’s farm and asked him why he had shot their dog.
The idiot replied that the devil had told him so. The wife, god-fearing as she was, leapt at the idiot and stuck her knife in deep, over and over. Then she went back to feed her rabbits.
A few days later the police found the idiot’s body outside in his yard. They went next-door and asked the wife if she knew what had happened. Of course, being a god-fearing woman she admitted she had killed the idiot but explained it was all for the good - he was doing the devil’s work.
The police explained that the law was the law and she’d have to come with them. Her husband begged them not to take her. The police wouldn’t listen. The man went and got his gun and shot both officers point-blank.
Maddened, he ran off, never to be seen again and this is how evil spread everywhere.
The moral of the story? Just like it takes just one match to light a fire that can burn down everything — it just takes one idiot to spoil everything to ruin.
Idiot Story 2
You were having a bad day. A truly horrible day.
You know, a day where you wake up from a nightmare and find yourself suffering from a pounding headache, an icepick banging on the soft part of the back of your neck.
You get up and splash water on your face and swallow half a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol. You pour a coffee and sink into your 50-year-old couch and wait for things to calm down. They never do.
Finally, sometime that morning, you go outside. You leave your phone on the table at home. You need peace and quiet. An attempt to not think about IT.
What you should be doing with your life? Who you should be making happy? Where you’ll get your next paycheck? And all that jazz.
The sun hits you like a brick but you keep walking. It helps keep you calm and in place. You walk and walk and walk. The numbness finds a kind of rhythm and hurts less.
Then, you remember you had a meeting at your place. Some famous professor wanted to interview you about what it’s like to be a poet. And all that jazz.
You high tail it back. You forget about that headache and all those questions you have no answer for. You arrive back, an hour late for the meeting. Nobody there. Just a note on the door, reading -
Fine. You missed your shot at the big time. So, you head back out, down the street and into a cafe. Maybe some caffeine will help.
You enter and order a double-double. Walk back to the dark part at the back. It’s calmer on the nerves there. You’re ready to hide and fight your demons there. Then, you see him. The famous professor who was going to interview you.
You can’t hide. It’s too intimate back there. In any case, he’s already spied you. So, you walk up to him and do the only thing right and proper. You apologize and beg his forgiveness. After all, you are an honest bloke, a nice guy. A truthful, truth-filled poet.
He’s angry, still angry after all your profuse apologizing. You can sense it, even see it. No matter how you put it, how sorry you said you were - this pompous ass still can’t forgive.
He asks you why, “Why weren’t you at home?”. He says, “I called and called and called you!”
You decide to tell him the truth. How you were having a bad day and went out into life, the streets, to find some semblance of balance and normalcy and then, you lost track of time. You left your phone at home.
You apologize for the umpteenth time, saying how you rushed to find him here at the cafe, after arriving home and being reminded of the meeting, after you saw his name tacked, to the door.
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