I guess it all started when I was a kid. I mean, Doc, you’re looking at the original case of a traumatic childhood. And I do mean the original in the strictest definition of the word. You think it’s traumatic when a kid’s dad hits him because he takes a cookie before dinner? Pheh. You don’t know the meaning of the word traumatic. Now eternal banishment to a lake of fire, that is a mentally scarring event. And let’s not even mention that goatee-wearing little Daddy’s boy. He was always the favorite, so he got all the cool stuff. Did I ever get to turn water into wine, or have all the fish I could eat? Hell no. I was always the black sheep, so nothing but horns, a tail and eternal torment for me. Talk about favoritism.
If you ask me, the Old Man himself is the one who should be in this office, not me. You may have dealt with some control freaks in the past, but have you ever tried to reason with a guy who would flood the frickin’ world just because of abandonment issues? I thought not. We’re talking anger management problems like you wouldn’t believe.
But hey, that’s not so bad. My old man’s not on trial here, it’s me. I’m just saying that having an all-seeing, all-powerful deity for a father figure does not lead to a very healthy childhood. Talk about pressure, jeez. Like I’m ever gonna be able to live up to that. And friends? Forget em. The second I did anything he didn’t like, like maybe stay out too late one night and Blammo! Rain of fire, maybe a plague or two, and that’s it. No friends for me. But when little brother wanted to go out and party with his twelve little stooges, did Pop say a word? Of course not. He even paid for their banquet hall.
So I guess that a split was pretty much unavoidable. After all, the guy’s omnipresent; it’s not like I’m gonna be able to keep anything from him. Though it’s not like I did anything really bad to set him off. What teenager hasn’t thought that maybe he could do the job better than his old man once or twice? I guess I just caught him at a bad time is all. He’d had a rough week at work, what with making all of creation, and I was feeling pretty lousy over the whole apple thing. I just wanted to have a little fun, and I never expected those morons to actually eat the damn thing. No offense, Doc, but your ancestors weren’t exactly the brightest bulbs in the shed. Anyway, Pop and I started fighting and the next thing I know the whole thing escalated and I wound up roasting in that pit for the rest of time.
In hindsight, I should have set out on my own long before all of it even happened; it was clear from the get-go that we didn’t work well together. Sure, it was traumatic, I probably still haven’t gotten over it completely, but things have cooled down a bit. We don’t talk anymore, since he doesn’t like my particular career choices, but that’s probably for the best, too, since we’d only end up fighting anyway.
Which brings us to my current job. Let me tell ya, Doc, it is one sweet set-up I got goin for myself. I mean, look at it. I make my own hours, have a nice office south of the border, and the perks are endless. See this suit? That’s pure silk, baby. Red, my favorite color. Some things could be better, I mean the medical coverage isn’t too good, but there’s not an insurance company in the world that’s going to give a good policy to a guy who works in constant inferno, so I’ve learned to just let it go. And you know what the best part is, Doc? At the end of the day, I can look in the mirror, and really feel like I’ve helped people. I mean really made them feel good, given them what they wanted. Sure, my services come with a price, but don’t everybody’s? I just look at myself as a shining beacon of capitalism.
Unfortunately, not everybody looks at in in quite the same way. In fact, come to think of it, nobody does. But I try not to let that get to me too much. “Turn the other cheek,” y’know? Only sometimes, Doc, sometimes it does get to me, to where I think I’m starting to get paranoid. I know this is probably all in my head, but I can’t help but think sometimes that, well, that people just hate me. And I don’t mean just a strong dislike or anything, I’m talking hate, pure and simple. Maybe I’m making it up, but do you know that I haven’t been able to have a civilized conversation with anybody in at least a few hundred years? That’s enough to make anybody a little paranoid, I think.
So I guess that’s more or less why I’m here. You’re the best, doc, and I mean the very best, I’ve done my research. And because of that, I think that maybe you can help me cure all these demons that’ve been hanging around for so long. Sure, I tried to do the “manly” thing, and bottle it all up, but now I’ve just got a million years worth of anxiety weighing on my mind, and I gotta release it somehow. Confidentially, I think that the last time I really let myself go, and got my frustrations out, well Hell, that’d have to have been the time that I took out the dinosaurs. And yeah, it made me feel good, but it sure screwed things up pretty bad, didn’t it? I’m just afraid that if I don’t get this stuff off my chest, I’m gonna do something else, and it ain’t gonna be pretty.
So what do you think, Doc? Am I crazy?
Doc?
Hey, Doc, for a professional, you sure are quiet over there. What’s the matter?
Wait…what’s that around your neck? Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Is that a crucifix, Doc? Please, tell me that’s not a crucifix. Not you too, Doc. Not you too.
Now c’mon, Doc, stop crying. I just wanted to talk a little, get some things off my mind, y’know? I just wanted a friend here. I swear, I’m not a bad…hold on. Doc, you put that Bible down. You put that Bible down RIGHT NOW, Doc, I am SO not kidding. It shouldn’t take a psychotherapy PhD to tell you that I do NOT LIKE THE BIBLE, Doc. You should have known better. All I wanted was a friend, but you had to go and bring the Old Man into things, and now, well, now I’m just afraid that I’m gonna have to do something mean.
And don‘t let my nice exterior fool you, Doc, I can be mean if I want to.
Alright, so I got a bit bored in Creative Writing class. Comments? Questions? Smart-ass remarks? Any and all are welcome.
sigh Damned if you do and damned if you don’t, right man?
I like.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
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really great - haven’t laughed that hard in a while - thx
Twelve little stooges…heh, I like that!
The whole thing is a very interesting take, Jester.
I would add only one friendly comment for your next story (and I know you have many more in you): break up your paragraphs. It tends to make screen reading easier. 
Very good. Very good indeed.
yeah, yeah… everybody likey jester…
damn that satan… he get’s all the luck…
“Maybe you can help me clear these demons”…
Priceless! 
So, can you explain the part about “troubadors who get killed before they reach Bombay”? Is it part of the ‘Paul is dead’ thing?
Wow. Well, thanks everybody, I’m glad you liked it. Dire Wolf, advice noted. And I might have a few more up my sleeve.
Cranberry sauce
Obviously done by somebody with a shitload of time on their hands.
I liked it clayton. Wish I had enough creative gumtion to create something similar with the time I am idle. Thanks for sharing it, Jester, and I for one, am looking forward to anything else you “have up your sleeve”.
So, um, did you fall or is it true you were pushed, man?
And did you ever notice your name is an anagram of Santa, that’s frikkin’ cool.
snicker, snicker, snicker
i’ve GOT to show this to my friends… this is just too good to waste…
goes off, prints a few copies
one of those friends come over
glance
ohhh!
must pass it on!
Dragon Shadow, Cougarfang, pass it on as much as you like. But if you sell it, I want some royalties.
And clayton, I can assure you, as many problems as I may have currently, too much free time is most certainly not one of them. Like I said, the piece was for my Creative Writing class. I’ve got a number of others, as well, but I don’t think I’ll post em quite yet.
Good stuff, Jester, thanks for sharing.
Put me on the list of people waitng for other stuff you might have up your sleeve.
Ah. Of course.
