Roger: Tell me a sad story, so I can laugh again. Ah, ha, ha.
I’m kidding. I’ll never laugh again.
Neither the wind around my knickerbockers, nor old age usage of the word ‘gay’ could ever make me giggle. A crying child and an old lady who slips over could not trigger a titter.
Everybody and everything is a comedic failure. Endorphins are ineffective, forever more.
Oh why? Oh why, oh why, oh why?
A subsequent leaning toward a certain ideology which unfortunately for my delicate soul is not particularly mindful of the possibilities of hope and meaning in a life already subjected to the horrors of living has brought about my great depression! Subsequent to what? The horrors of living.
I have no reason. I don’t need a reason. I need drugs. Drugs will make me feel better.
But, I have no access to drugs (or at least, drugs that will somewhat help with my situation). Nor is my swift tongue as slippery as I would like. I cannot fake my way into getting drugs any better than I can fake happiness throughout my life without growing weary and aging early by way of straining muscles on my face when I smile and causing ugliness that may prompt my suicide. My God, what do I live for if I can’t get laid?
What do I live for? Now that I know I live for nothing (apart from getting laid) then why do I live? I already lived to ponder why I live; I cannot live through that again!
Oh my. Oh my, oh my, oh my.
My God, I’ve been standing here for hours. I’ve been standing here for days. I’ve been standing here for weeks. I’ve been standing here… for years! I’ve been standing through hours in a day while the days of my weeks have turned into months as I’ve gone through the years. My word, I’ve been wondering why I’ve been wondering and now that I know, I-I cannot even fathom what a waste of time it has been. Do I make the most of my time? Do I bother?
Is this right? Is it right to think like this? Am I offending someone? Am I afraid I will not get into a heaven that I’ve decided I don’t believe in if I offend a God I just recently convinced myself does not exist?
My God, I’m talking myself out of it. My word, am I talking to the God I don’t believe in? Oh my, I wonder. Did I go from irrationality to rationality or rationality to irrationality?
I’ve aged. All this time I’ve been rambling, I’ve been aging. I haven’t touched my gin and tonic.
My word, I haven’t touched my gin and tonic. The ice has melted – it’s watered down. What a waste. What new horror is to follow, world! What more can you do!
[Jacqueline enters]
Jacqueline: Hi!
Roger: Damn you, world!
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