This is a little story I wrote during a small bought of insanity a while back. Don't worry, I'm fine now.



"Problems of a Common Man"

In a desperate attempt to retain any sight of sanity, I began to eat my eyeballs. Multiple problems of a quite severe nature began to arise once I allowed myself to realize that my mouth was no longer under the influence of my person. I grinned in sad amusement at my left hand flailing aimlessly in an attempt to retrieve pieces of me that had obviously grown up and left the house. Upon further assessment of the situation it became apparent that my right hand had noticed the steadily increasing level of entropy which was slowly but surely overpowering my current situation, and was poised with Boy Scout like preparedness: the bastard had a .44 Magnum revolver trained on my face, just in case things started to get too out of hand. I sighed in modest despair, disappointed that my own hand would resort to violence as a means of problem solving.
“Now," I began to reason with my right hand, (who shall henceforth be referred to as 'Righty' "Let's think this through." Righty nodded in a businesslike manner, obviously keeping the interest of the entire body at heart, yet refusing to direct the gun in a newer, safer direction. In a determined, confident, and scholarly manner I began my analysis. "Our situation is thus: at the rate things are going we'll end up a pile of polychromatic goop seeping over the floor within the hour. I don't know how this avalanche of disasters got started... nobody does. But our fate is inevitable, and we must accept it. Which means you ought to put the gun down Righty, as it is no longer our well being we must be concerned with. Instead, we should take into consideration the inconvenience we will be causing the poor soul whose shoulders shall have fall upon them the task of cleaning up our scattered remnants, and put forth every effort available into consolidating the mess into which we shall evolve into one form which can be conveniently and quickly disposed of. It wouldn't be prudent to go splattering ourselves about like a baby does with his food when perched upon his high chair.
Upon the conclusion of my analysis, my left hand ceased its feeble attempts at recovering my mouth and eyeballs and stared solemnly at me. "What?" I asked Lefty with an air of authority and indignation which assigned to him a general characteristic of stupidity. "If you wanted a more favorable outcome then you should have been a part of this discussion that Righty and I are having, rather than waving about like a fool trying to capture the very eyes that you require to see. How do you expect to get anything done like that?"
Still, Lefty stared at gawked at me with a look of horror and ignorant dissatisfaction.
"Oh come on man, maybe if you hadn't spent so much time wandering around and jacking off and all that other bullshit that you do, maybe you'd be a little more in tune with the severity of our situation, like Righty is." I glanced back at Righty only to notice that the mother fucker still had the gun aimed straight at our head. "God damn it Righty! I told you to put that fucking thing down!"
In a childish display of despised obedience Righty hurled the gun to the floor, causing it to explode with and ear shattering KA-BLOOM! We were lucky enough to avoid the bullet. However, a formidably sized ceiling fan directly above us had been hit and had taken critical amounts of structural damage. Out of necessity, we dove out of the path of the plummeting ceiling fixture.
After taking a few moments to collect my thoughts, I realized that my legs had already melted into the floor, limiting us to the sitting position. I glared over towards Righty, who had picked the gun back up, most likely in order to avoid dropping it again and sending another renegade bullet floating amongst our midst. I had to hand it to the son of a bitch, he was one smart cookie.
"So much for consolidating the mess you fuckin' asshole!"
Suddenly it occurred to me how rather unfortunate it was that I had to react in such a manner. His arrogant display of defiance at my initial request to lower the gun had led to my disgruntled attitude regarding his reaction to my aforementioned suggestion, creating a self perpetuating merry-go-round of hatred where guns were thrown with unrestrained enthusiasm by all the little children who rode the impaled ponies as their parents watched in horror, their children armed to the teeth and throwing things while participating in a form of leisure which is widely considered to be acceptable for children. I decided it was about high time to hop off this childish amusement metaphor and go for a nice grueling, thought provoking jog to a fast food restaurant.
Unfortunately I failed to remember that my legs had already melted and my attempt at jumping off my symbolic merry-go-round of thought (A train of thought would have been much more painful to jump off of, and merry-go-rounds usually have much more entertaining activities immediately awaiting you after you jump off of them... which is of course why I enjoy the merry-go-round.) resulted in my jogging plans being foiled. Instead I merely fell gracefully into a puddle of myself, no longer possessing the faculties by which to raise myself up again.
After painful deliberation I addressed ourselves. "Well gang," I began, "It would appear as if nothing makes sense!" I paused for a moment in order to lend a dramatic aspect to my speech addressed to myself. "Upon intensive review of our situation, we have concluded that there are but two options available to us. We can either sit here, and be unwillingly defiant of reality's sensible and reasonable rules," another dramatic pause, "or we can simply go to sleep and retreat to dreamland, where being nonsensical and ridiculous and silly and what have you, are perfectly acceptable and even encouraged in a majority of instances. In the first instance we are performing unreal feats in a real world. In the second, our feats are only allowed because that world is not real. The options lay before us, and only one thing is clear: That either way... we are ultimately doomed!
And without even waiting for a round of applause from my audience, I drifted off to sleep. I slept joyously, even though I knew that cuddled up beside me was the Teddy Bear of doom, (I always sleep with a Teddy Bear) a cute and innocent little object which would inevitably unleash our ultimate fate of destruction sometime in the near and/or distant future.