-Few things are so refreshing as getting a serious beating, The Sicilian said. But it seldom happens. Kicks are always hard to find. And yes, it’s my fault. Because in my darkest hour I scare the shit out of any Hulk. And trust me, he’s smart to back off. Because I hate to fight just to show off. I’m not strong enough for that kind of ‘fighting’. If you fight, you go for blood.
-Like a disciplined Mad Man, I replied.
-Controlled madness, he said. Like: give me some death, fucker! Yes, pain can be healing.
The great thing is that it’s in all of us, some voice in my head whispered. Pretty scary if you give a fuck about life. (And who doesn’t? Afraid of the unknown, would be my guess. Because so am I. For once.) Pretty awesome if you love death. (And who truly does? And why?)
Imagine The Universe. Like we all have done. At some point.
The forces are too strong. You knew it once and now you know it again. First you believe it, then you reason it away as the intellectual you are, then you realize you don’t control anything – that you’re not been giving these powers. We are just food for The Universe.
-The reason why I don’t like vegetarians is a mystery to me, The Sicilian continued. (I clearly missed a part of his monologue.) But I just don’t. I am always quite happy when one of them dies. What can I say?
-I understand, I said, like: don’t forget to drive your fucking BMW to the gym.
-What? (He obviously didn’t get it.)
-If you ever have the chance, look through LSD glasses and you will see the Dark Shadow all these worlds carry, I continued. Pain is a drug you get for free. No need to go and look for it. Just know how to handle it.
-You say crazy shit man. Not to mention the shit you write. Like that story about you (or whoever) cutting up that woman. It doesn’t work like that. I kill for food, not for pleasure. Unlike that bastard.
-Yeah well, I said, life nowadays has been reduced to a level in some PlayStation game. Besides, there’s nothing great in getting older (besides the fact you feel superior to all your friends that died). Teeth, certain organs that need to be replaced…. it’s actually a dark joke. To be honest, I envy the dead. It seems I am stuck in this level of the game that you call life.
-Put an end to it yourself.
-Yeah right. No, don’t have the balls. Anyway, that would be cheating. And after all, life is sweet bearable. You only need to realize you’re gonna die. Ignore the drumbeat that’s too fast and those people who are so scared they become impolite. And don’t build what you never will enjoy. Just bite in the lips of the one you love (if you’re that fortunate) and taste the blood. Sweet as chocolate, sour as hell. Do you get the picture?
(I guess the dominant color today is blood red.)