You Would Prefer to Think Otherwise

You Would Prefer to Think Otherwise….

Winter in the Midwest is a horrible time. While the snow might have the appearance of lending a calming atmosphere to an already bucolic scene, I knew better. The accumulation does odd things to men, each inch adding more madness to already wizened souls. The christians had come out to play in the long cold winter months and for the few of us left, it’s a dark time, full of tree trimming and other odd rituals that should have seemed archaic at one time or another in our great Western Civilization. The truly evil ones were winning once again, and with the writing on the wall, Alberto Gonzalez not recalling seemed to be the least of our worries. ‘It was him’ they would all shout while brandishing their pitchforks and torches, ‘Let the bastard pay for his crimes now.’ Yes indeed, it was a treacherous and vicious time, full of anguish at the thoughts of lost dreams and fears of what was to come. The Winter was like a great enveloping force, conquering anything in its path after rising from the squalid depths of whatever else gave spawn to the other evil little men of our generation like Tom Brokaw and Scooter Libby.

All of these thoughts seemed to resonate through my cranium at top speeds as I ventured out to my car for cigarettes. The time had indeed come for a test of true grit and valor; only the strong would survive this winter, leaving behind strewn wreckage in god-forsaken places like Wichita and Dubuque. As I walked out of my apartment, I tried to pass by my neighbor’s wide-open door quietly. The climate was not working for him; the poor bastard had taken to conventional methods of coping and the strong drink had reduced him to muttering wild and violent phrases under his breath and hollering at any weak-minded denizen who happened upon him in the dark reaches of this foul complex. I was in no mood for his badgering right now. Now was the time for answers and fast action, not reminiscing of times past. The fool would probably not last the end of the week before they got to him. It was only matter of time; behavior of those sorts was punishable to the highest degree and soon enough he would be hauled off to a processing center with other men of his kind. They would all be reduced to runny noses and groping themselves in dark and smelly places soon enough. As long as people of his ilk were off the streets and small children were safe once more, I saw no reason to get involved.

Somehow the pig had managed to knock the top hinge off of the door and it was hanging comically in the opening. I peeked around the frame and into his dwelling and saw exactly what was expected; the bastard had managed to throw everything onto the floor, and with Neil Diamond crooning softly in the background, it had the wicked appearance of some bizarre lost episode of the Twilight Zone.

“Yes! Let them buy me things” he shouted from his closet. “I will ask them for the receipts, and when I get them, they had better watch out.” He had fortunately not spotted me, but was simply yelling to the winds. “Lets all go to the mall and give them something. Something that they will not expect. Gift Cards!”

I leapt over the opening of his door, and slunk towards the exit. When I had safely reached the door leading outside, I turned and hollered down the hall at him, “You’re next, you crazy devil! They have got the place surrounded and are breaking down the back door right now. Save yourself, you swine!”

Let the bastard sleep on that. The only answer to my shouts seemed to be a low moan from the dilapidated entrance, an anxious plea against forces unseen, but present nonetheless…

I decided right then and there to venture out into the world and see the season’s true impact on this poor unsuspecting city. The Holiday sickness is a well-documented illness around these times. The panic that most people feel at this time is curable, but only by strong drink and remembering that each and everyone who becomes scatterbrained under this evil malady at one time didn’t always think of their fellow man in such evil terms.

The time for Christmas had past, it had begun in October and by the time December had rolled around we were all supposed to watch for shiny new exercise equipment for the New Year to loosen the pounds off the belly of the beast. Corporate America had poisoned the minds of thousands and an air of panic had descended upon the masses. No more were the simple pleasures of the season sufficient, instead capitalism determined that we were to be entertained by the giving of lead-tainted toys from little communist Chinamen and horrible fruit pies, baked with the intention of one-upping the neighbors. Somewhere Lee Iacocca is laughing fanatically and clapping his hands with glee….

The roads were terrible; none of the supposed Christmas spirits seemed to rub off onto the drivers. I was nearly knocked onto the shoulder by a leviathan SUV, “Pagan!” I shouted out the window at the culprit, “I hope a pack of rabid dogs gnaws your children’s presents and defecate on your walls.” I was in no mood to be trifled with. My doctor had recently refused to continue my prescription to anti-depressants and after I was subdued by two large orderlies, the quack had told me I was need of natural cures; something about how they were adversely affecting my liver. The whiskey was no good, he said. The poor fool failed to realize, of course, that I was a professional.

The mall was often a spot I went whenever I felt an uncharacteristic feeling of goodwill towards my fellow man. This was the ticket to cure any happiness. The packed stores were full of tidings of cheer and panicked shoppers who had come to the disturbing revelation that there was only one more day of shopping. An air of panic had descended upon the packed lines of crazed shoppers and snarling cashiers, which would all be reduced to a wild mob soon enough, and when the time came for anarchy, I was prepared. That’s where it would start; the overwhelming pressures of the season are sufficient to breakdown even the strongest christian, and mass hysteria would ensue. I had been quietly assembling the best arsenal money could buy and when the shit hit the fan, I would be ready. Who’s laughing now? Ho ho.