Nowhereland-Fiction books/Nowhereland
Where the fun it doth begin within the gift that so be-eth life
All Books Available as ebooks at Amazon
I always do all my own covers. I don't want someone else's art on them. Same goes for my tattoos, I draw them myself, because I also don't want someone else's art on me.
The Books Available For Purchase Dawn By Xavier Cockroachal Damon Dawn and What a Wonderful World and Xavier Cockroachal Damon's, Um, Entirely Fictitious Autobiography: Includes The Missing Years and Welcome to the Idiot Box: Stories, Essays, Self-help Wisdom and Love Is What Will Make an Immortal Die: Also Includes Waiting for Godotal and Future Uncertain, Self-sedition, No Reason, Rhyme and The Mystery of the Missing Dead and Sojourn Within the Shadow Night and Dog Years Within the Curse of 7. Seven Plays And By Aaron Aaronson Postcards from the Wasteland and Welcome to Nowhereland (5 Stories). and. Self-extermination. Sounds Like a Plan: Also Includes Give Me Burger and Hold the Fries and Brain Circus and (3 Essays About Donald J. Trump) and The Adventures of Man-Man, Episode 1 and Soliloquy to My Soul and The Adventures of Man-Man Defender of Man:: (Episodes 1-10) and John Harrm, Private Detective. The Case of the Evil, Global Shadow Conspiracy: Also Includes Disgusticon the Transformer and The Heist of the Century + Bonus Track! and Where in the World is Xavier Cockroachal Damon? And by Mark Comstock Drowned Beneath a Bleeding Sky and Diary of a Man Who Set Out to Prove the Earth is Flat (And Other Stories)
Little, old me. With fuckin flames coming out of my head. And I'm turning into a cockroach.
The name I called my five day, ten year old daughter, as presented in, "What a Wonderful World". She's mentioned about half way through.
Melancholy Mel. He of, "Ode To Valentine's Day" infamy.
There won't be a happy, satisfying resolution, just because you want there to be. There is only one, true ending for any specific tale.
Oh, they so cute. You think they're vermin but now you know, you're wrong. They're cute!
They say it is a good idea to post some of your own published writing on your own site to give the reader an indication of your style. I am now going to present to you the short story, "Waiting for Godotal" from the book, "Love Is What Will Make an Immortal Die: Also Includes Waiting for Godotal and Future Uncertain, Self-sedition, No Reason, Rhyme and The Mystery of the Missing Dead and Sojourn Within the Shadow Night" by Xavier Cockroachal Damon.
I
Waiting for Godotal by Xavier Cockroachal Damon
I sat by the phone and I waited…
And I waited…
And for that ever refreshing change of pace, I waited some more…
And waited…
And waited…
And waited…
And waited…
Then…
I waited…
And waited…
And waited…
It was seeming obvious to any with a lick of sense, something both the blind and dead could see, quite apparently, Godotal might not be calling this night. I drank from a cup of vodka as I sat there by the phone.
And so…
I waited…
And waited…
And waited…
For, if salvation was to call you on the phone, how stupid you would be to not have been home.
So, I waited…
And I waited…
And waited…
For, a fool, not am I, Godotal was certain to call, and so end the wrecking ball, grab you in mid-air from the fall, illuminate the darkness, revealing the light of a brand new day. And so, I waited for the words that he would say.
And I waited…
And I waited…
And waited…
And then…
The phone, it rang…
A wrong number from someone trying to sell me life insurance from a company based in Bangalore while also offering phone sex services from him, a teenage girl, even though it was abundantly obvious he was an elderly man. He also tried to enlist me in a timeshare money making scheme for not yet built condos in Finland while also inviting me to join him in his knitting seminar of how to knit the best knitted presentation of Catholic saints wearing cowboy hats. “Great fun.” he said it was, then adding, “So, you like my tight 17 year old ass, baby? Wanna party.” No. It was not Godotal. But, I knew, Godotal, he would most definitely call or arrive in person this night, and when he did, all would be right. No more hell to have to fight. I drank from my cup.
And so…
I waited…
And waited…
And waited…
The hours added onto themselves, million times viewed movies on their respective shelves. The door opened and there then walked into the room…Oh, Christ, a pack of elves.
“We are here on our quest for the holy grail, travelling from the land of Barfadale, upon the ocean we set sail, knowing that in our task we would prevail! No hardship could stop us from reaching our goal, no wyvern, nor bridge guarding troll! On we will roll and onward march, never to be deterred, for no matter how much adversity is placed in our way, through it we will push until arriving in that blessed day!” The elves then just stood and stared at me as I stared back at them, as well, “So, um, you wouldn’t happen to know where the holy grail is by any chance, would you?” one of them then asked.
“No.” I answered, sitting in my chair.
“Shit. Well, hey, we tried. What else can we do? Guys, let’s return to Barfadale. Nice meeting you, bye.” The elves then filed out through the open door and closed it behind them.
No, it had not been several mini, pointed ear Godotals I had just encountered, but, I knew, Godotal, this night, he would show himself.
And so, I waited…
And I waited…
And waited…
And then…
The doorbell rang. I raised from the chair to answer the door, carrying with me the cup of vodka I was drinking from. I opened it and standing there was a man, majestic in appearance, wearing large framed glasses, several necklaces, dime store magic tricks hanging from an elaborate belt, long flowing cloak trailing behind him, two body guards, part of his entourage, one on either side, himself holding an ornate staff bedecked with many different colored rhinestones.
They all just stood there, staring at me, the leader of the group eyeing me with a look of pageantry. I pulled out and lit a cigarette, awaiting a conversation to at some point begin unfolding from its current air tight silence. “Um, and you would be?” I asked.
One of the bodyguards answered back, “Wait, are you saying?” he then turned to the group’s leader, “Sorry, boss.” then turned back to me, “Don’t you know who this is?”
I drank from my cup. “Yes, of course I do which is exactly why I just asked who he was, seemed a logical step to reinforce my admittedly scant knowledge base.”
“What did you just say?” the other of the body guards asked.
I took a drag from my cigarette. “Guess you’re hard of hearing, allow me to repeat it, then. Yes, of course I do which is exactly--”
The bodyguard cut me off, “No, I mean, really, what did you just say? I heard you but couldn’t understand a word of it.”
I took a long drink from my cup then a long drag from my cigarette. “I said, no, I don’t know who he is.”
The bodyguard reacted, somewhat aghast, “How can you not know who this is? Why, this is the great--”
The man with the staff raised it, signaling for the bodyguard to stop, then he spoke, “Why, it is me.” He then paused with his palms turned upward, dragging the pause out ridiculously long in a failed attempt to elicit the most effect, when, to be perfectly honest, it really just made me want to exit to the other room and take a nap. I took another drink and continued smoking my cigarette, awaiting the completion of the sentence. “The great!” Having found myself entrapped in another lengthy pause, I finished my drink, cigarette as well then walked across the room to my chair and put the cigarette out in an ashtray, refilled my cup with vodka, then returned with the cup to where I had been standing and lit up another cigarette. The remainder of the response consisted of three words, each separated by what was, thankfully considerably shorter pauses, “blind…seer…Tiresias!” These words were also accompanied by piano music and a chorus of oohs played by one of the bodyguards on a very old, portable cassette player.
I took a drink. “The great, blind seer, so, what, you’re saying you look at big venetian blinds, or something?”
“No, a seer, as in I see.” responded Tiresias.
“And are also blind.” I added.
“I don’t mean physical seeing, of course I don’t do that, I’m blind. I mean I see oracles, the future, what will happen.” Tiresias clarified.
“But you can’t physically see?” I questioned.
“No. I’m blind. The blind seer, kind of catchy, isn’t it?” Tiresias noted with self-adulation.
“Yes, quite cute.” I drank from my cup and took a drag from my cigarette, “But, you say this, of course, while texting on your smartphone and wearing glasses that obviously have two clear lenses.”
Tiresias put the cell phone he was holding away in his pocket. “Um, ah, well, the glasses I need, you see, for in my old age I have become somewhat nearsighted.” he explained.
“So then it is your contention that you’re a nearsighted blind person.” I observed, taking a drink.
Tiresias nodded. “Um, well, yes, indeed.”
“My, you certainly are quite the seer.” I took a drink and a drag.
“Ah yes, I am a seer and a seer who sees this.” Tiresias did a funky hand gesture while swaying his head.
“Boss, you got the moves.” commented one of his guards.
“You’re the king, boss!” declared the other.
Tiresias turned angrily to him. “No, I am not the king, I am the counselor to kings. That is who I am, that is what I do. I am a seer and I advise. You know my body of work, Oedipus and Creon, didn’t stick around to see how their reigns ended, but very successful, I’m sure they were.” He turned back to me, “So, tell me then, sir, might you, yourself be a king in need of a blind seer’s assistance?”
“Well, I suppose you could call me a king. A king of nothing, forever sitting on his throne of shit, tending to his empty, forever crumbling kingdom.” I took a drink and a drag from my cigarette.
“Throne of shit, you say. I imagine that could get rather messy, um, this robe is genuine suede, you do realize. Hmm, let’s see, let’s see. Now, does the shit adhere merely to the throne, itself or does it expand to other areas of the kingdom? Because if it didn’t, then certainly I could just stand at a safe distance and speak loudly with my blind seer counsel.”
“It covers every square inch of the entire kingdom.” I answered, taking a drink then a drag.
“Aha. Ahum. I, ah, well, I suppose, hmm. One moment, will you, while I confer with my associates here.” Tiresias and his bodyguards huddled together for only a few moments then Tiresias turned back to me, speaking, “Yes, then, very sorry, sorry indeed, but I’m afraid we can’t do business together. You see, from the way you describe your kingdom it certainly sounds like I’d be covered in shit, and you see, as said, this is genuine suede. Feel it, come on, feel it.” Tiresias held out part of his cloak.
I refused the offer, “Yeah, you know, I tend to believe petting animals should be reserved for those that are still living, not their dead carcasses adorning bodies other than their own.”
“Very soft, very squishy.” Tiresias again offered a touch of the cloak, he himself rubbing his cloak with his fingers.
“No.” my curt decline.
Tiresias nodded his head once. “Yes, well then, as said, sorry, but you’re on your own. Rocko, Vinny, let’s get out of here, and sing the song as we walk.”
The three of them then exited, the two bodyguards singing as they walked away, “If you really need a seer, you want one who is blind, this seer such a seer he’s gonna blow your mind, the best, greatest seer you will ever find. Tiresias, Tiresias, your future he will kiss. Tiresias, Tiresias, the blind seer who doesn’t miss…” Thank the lord their shouting voices had ventured too far away by this point for me to have to endure any more of the song.
But, no, none of the three had been Godotal. But, I knew, I knew Godotal would be here sometime this night. I walked and put my cigarette out in an ashtray then paced through the room, thinking, drinking from my cup.
So, I waited…
And waited…
And waited…
I had forgotten to close the door and there then came bounding into the room a metal garbage can that bounced several times until coming to rest upright. Immediately the lid shot off from the top and a furry, green creature poked its head out and spoke, “Oh motherfucker I am so sick to death of all the stupid motherfuckers, motherfucker. I mean, the Goddamned crap I must endure and shit I have to put up with, up to here, fuckin over my eyeballs so that all I ever see is shit and man, how I’m so fuckin sick of it. And I have to perpetually listen to all these dumb motherfuckers laughing and singing, ‘Sunny day, everything is a-okay’. Go the fuck away. It’s not a sunny day. Darkness reigns eternal. And absolutely nothing is O-fuckin-K! Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street because I want to nuke the motherfucker! I am so Goddamned pissed off about each and every fuckin thing in this incessant, disgusting stupidity without pause that is life, I just want to punch my fuckin hand through a window, that is, if I even have fuckin hands. Really, what the fuck even are these things at the end of my arms? More like fuckin mittens, for Christ sake. And what the fuck is Snuffleupagus? I always ask him that, dude, what the fuck even are you? Damn douche never even bothers to give me an answer, just some fuckin creation in the mind of how existence will be joyful, wonderful, have meaning and be happy and great. It’s bullshit, just a delusional construct to get you through the day. What came first? A Snuffleupagus or a need for a Snuffleupagus to con weak minds into a belief that all of the shit somehow had meaning just to get you through your days with some idiotic fairy tale that if only you believe then one day you’ll be rewarded and can enter the gates of the kingdom of Sesame Street. Well, guess what, there is no fuckin Sesame Street, and dumb motherfuckers believing there somehow is leads so many fools down Poppy street with a fuckin needle in their arm, searching for some utopia that doesn’t and can’t fuckin exist. Sunny day? Oh, no, motherfucker, the day is really going to suck and you all piss me so much the fuck off, I really only hope you’ll all just get the fuck out of my sight and fuckin die!”
I stared at the green, furry thingamagig creature a moment as he protruded from the garbage can with a bitter, sullen look on his face. “Um, want a cigarette?” I asked.
“Yeah, actually I could kind of use one, thanks. And you got any booze?” the green, furry thingamagig replied.
I smirked. “Duh. What are you drinking?”
“Don’t care, just something strong.” Green, furry thingamagig shook his head, a disgruntled look on his face, “Don’t even try and give me wine. Fuckin hate wine, and what, it has about the alcohol content of fuckin baby food.”
I spoke with a mocking tone, “Where’s the new wine, dying on the vine.”
Green, furry thingamagig then declared dismissively, “Egotistical, self-absorbed douche. Damn straight I’ll light your fire when I pour a can of gasoline over your head and light a match.”
“I have some absinthe that has actual wormwood in it that I only drink for special occasions, want that?” I offered.
“OK, that’s just fuckin cool, yeah, give me that.” declared green, furry thingamagig.
“It’s also like 140 proof or something.” I added.
“OK, that’s really fuckin cool, definitely give me that.” eagerly proclaimed green, furry thingamagig.
“What’s your name?” I asked so that I would no longer have to refer to him as green, furry thingamagig.
“Oscar.” he answered.
And so, I returned to my chair, poured Oscar a drink, gave him a cigarette and lit one for myself. And then, Oscar and I just sat there, smoking our cigarettes and drinking.
“Pretty fuckin crappy, fuckin day, isn’t it, Oscar?” I exclaimed, taking a drink.
“Really fuckin crappy, fuckin day.” said Oscar, taking a drink, as well.
“Completely, really fuckin crappy, fuckin day.” I then announced, taking another drink.
“Completely, really fuckin crappy, fuckin day.” Oscar echoed with a groan.
“Whatever, fuck it.” I stated, taking a drink.
“Yeah, fuck it.” grumbled Oscar, putting his cigarette out on the inside of his garbage can as he did. He finished what was in his cup and dropped the empty cup into his garbage can. “Well, gotta go, got a bunch of bullshit I have to do. Fuckin bullshit, it’s all fuckin bullshit. Whatever, fuck it.”
I put my cigarette out in an ashtray. “Ah, um, do you need some help, ah, I mean the garbage can, you know, getting it out of here?”
Oscar responded, exasperated, “Fuckin thing just bounces all over the fuckin place. Bounces up, crashes down, bounces back up, crashes back down and how the hell do you think it feels to be a green thingamagig trapped within the damn can, crashing around inside, like a fuckin supposed sail boat crashing around in a fuckin bottle. But, bottle him, so it’s declared by the powers that be. Fuckin bullshit!”
“It’s all fuckin bullshit, isn’t it.” I declared.
Oscar shook his head, a very beleaguered look on his face. “It is all fuckin bullshit. Well, I’m off.” With that, the lid leapt from the floor to once again cover the garbage can and then the garbage can launched off the floor and out the door.
No, that had not been Godotal in that garbage can. But, I knew, Godotal would indeed arrive here this night, I knew it. Um, probably not arriving in a garbage can, I imagined. But, he would show himself this night and all my questions would be answered, all my problems solved. And so…
I waited…
I waited…
And I waited…
And then…
Having again forgotten to close the door, there then entered into the room, two men, one wearing a ridiculous looking top hat, the other, shorter, wearing glasses, following dutifully behind. The shorter man then spoke, “Good day, sir, it is my pleasure to announce the arrival of the renowned Dr. Squoosh. I am his loyal assistant and we are here today to present to you with word, the wondrous glory and beauty and wonderful splendor that is life. Oh, he of written word of magnificence, dear Dr. Squoosh, please begin. It is your time on the stage, good man.”…
DR. SQUOOSH: Serenity, harmony, serendipity, another step in the life of me. Sever dreams to set myself free. Freedom a word, the concept absurd, most ridiculous notion I’ve ever heard. Forever marching down your path, suffering your hate filled wrath, drown down within your bath, misery and pain, need to do, cannot even try to feign, chapters from the memoirs of the insane. My life it is an open book, so sit back, get comfy, take a look. Sit gently upon thy toosh. To hear the tale of Dr. Squoosh.
ASSISTANT: Um.
DR. SQUOOSH: The sun rested gently up in the sky, so many worms upon the ground, it did fry, of course. But it also cast its gaze upon a horse, who actually kind of liked the sun, thought it was fun, just batted its tail against itself, a thousand uncruel lashes, actually soothing, to pass yet another placid day, tied to a post. Of course, the worms on the sidewalk, they did roast, get turned to toast. Shriveled, wrecked carcasses of the worms they used to be.
ASSISTANT: Ah, Dr. Squoosh, let’s see.
DR. SQUOOSH: Birds gently perched up on a tree, looking around, chirping, so they could see, the procession that passed them by, but inside the birds did secretly cry, and they indeed knew the reason why. For, as mortals walked, in hearts the mortals did fly, while the birds knew they were only born to die. The last images the birds did see? Smiles, as they dropped down dead from their tree.
ASSISTANT: Um, Dr. Squoosh, really.
DR. SQUOOSH: Yesterday was fun, yet done, so let us start another one, stare up into the blessed sun, and then go and buy a gun. To put a bullet through my fuckin head. Motherfucker, how I wish I was dead.
ASSISTANT: Um, OK, forget the words just said. Dr. Squoosh, start again.
DR. SQUOOSH: I woke up with a smile, which I will wear all the while, as I suffocate beneath the pile, of all life’s shit pouring down on me, my only remaining dream is to no longer be.
ASSISTANT: Ah, um, ah, let’s see. This is not starting very well. Seek to reveal a picture of heaven, showing instead a glimpse of hell. But, you are Dr. Squoosh! And so I say, Furkumsqiclalyhoosh. By the end, I do declare, all will sit and stare, at the glory and wonder and greatness of life. For each day it be a blessing, happiness doth abound. Just take a look around.
DR. SQUOOSH: Then die in hell without a sound.
ASSISTANT: Oh, so help me. Dr. Squoosh, you are not doing your job well, so begin again your story to tell. One of optimism, hope and of glee, not of emptiness and misery. There is a canvas presented before your eyes, your brush strokes determine if nightmare cries or smiles of happy, so stop speaking words so bleak and crappy. Optimism is your friend, so travel with it to the end. So, find your bearing, for our goal here is to be sharing what we know unequivocally to be true, and so now that is what we will do. We are here to put on display the wonder and glory of life. For everybody has a life.
DR. SQUOOSH: Think you should analyze that statement, because some do not have a life, instead some have a knife, by their own hand or the powers that be, at their wrists, at their throat, fighting to get up from the ground, their heart buried at the tomb above their bloody knee. The way it shall forever be.
ASSISTANT: Oh, so help me. Dr. Squoosh, what the hell is wrong with you? Put your foot in the other shoe. You know damn well what to do. All bad thoughts thou must eschew. Life it be a grand, jolly stage, so merrily exit from thy cage, and so create a brand new page, with words of wisdom for the masses, me thinks, sir, you might need glasses, for thou art failing miserably to see the glory that life so be. So let us begin again, shall we.
DR. SQUOOSH: Mindfucked misery, drowning beneath a sea, of that which shall never be, rot perpetually throughout dream of hell eternity.
ASSISTANT: Dr. Squoosh, what the woosh! Shushamushafushamoosh! Dost thou know not, a better way to look at life, there is, or hath thou just forgot? Please, dear Dr. Squoosh, see things in a different light than what you spout, this hopeless, nightmare, broken night. That is what you need to see. For if you do it then you will be, happy. So, Dr. Squoosh, let’s begin again, shall we.
DR. SQUOOSH: Mothefuckers, fuck you all, so motherfuckin sick of the motherfuckin wrecking ball, just wish a motherfuckin end to it all, so fuck off, motherfuckers and fuck off, all y’all.
ASSISTANT: Oh, Jesus Christ, Dr. Squoosh. Do you not know what you are? You are Dr. Squoosh. Your role in life is to rescue sad souls from doom and gloom, unlock their tomb, lead them from their coffin, do so often, so all may smile and see the day, and play, upon the land, directed by your hand, maestro of loving life, so stop jabbing them with a rusty knife. Life…is…good. Preach that wisdom, and let all know, the way things go, as great as today was, tomorrow will be better because…In other words, stop screwing around, Dr. Squoosh.
DR. SQUOOSH: Merrily, I verily set outeth uponeth my way. Happy for the gift of a brand new day.
ASSISTANT: Better, Dr. Squoosh.
DR. SQUOOSH: I laughed, I don’t know why, laughed so much I began to cry.
ASSISTANT: Easy, Dr. Squoosh.
DR. SQUOOSH: And the tears they then did stream, as I tried to remember a forgotten dream, fell to the ground and began to scream.
ASSISTANT: Getting off track, Dr. Squoosh.
DR. SQUOOSH: And on the ground, oceans I did cry, wishing only that I could die.
ASSISTANT: You know what, screw you, Dr. Squoosh! You are messing this up! Don’t you realize, understand, life is what you make of it, you just have to guide it by your hand. And if you do, you shall not be buried beneath the avalanche of a barren sand. Bootstrap pull up I believe is called for, for if you do, life, it will be an open door, so that thou might make thy exit from the land of nevermore. Re-enter the haven that you swore, and all the trappings that it bore.
DR. SQUOOSH: And how the heart and soul, it did tore. And what for? To stare up blindly from the earth, dreaming of a never had birth. Wondering why the fuck why, life never the bedtime story lullaby. So, on your bed, alone you cry. Rivers, torrents, endless screams, the dead they know forgotten dreams, endless, brutal escapade, life’s ever wondrous dumbfuck parade.
ASSISTANT: Oh, so help me, Dr. Squoosh, what the hell is wrong with ye, dost not thou know if you choose, happy thou can be. So set thyself free, life is wonder and glory. That reality please do see. So, let us please begin again, shall we.
DR. SQUOOSH: They say life is what you make of it. So I set out this day to not make shit. Was progressing actually swimmingly. But, alas my goal was not to be. Around four, accidently kicked the door, broke a toe, shortly after, had to go.
ASSISTANT: You’ve got to be kidding me, Dr. Squoosh.
DR. SQUOOSH: I, Dr. Squoosh, sat back and upon life reflected, all of the reasons I had to smile. I could not think of a single fuckin one.
ASSISTANT: Look, Dr. Squoosh, I give up. You are beyond hope.
DR. SQUOOSH: I couldn’t agree more.
ASSISTANT: No, Dr. Squoosh, your words are supposed to bring laughter and smiles. You know, talking about breakfast choices and hats and shit.
DR. SQUOOSH: I talked about shit. Did you not hear the sentence just a little while ago?
ASSISTANT: No, that’s not what I mean! Look, Dr. Squoosh, a shooshaplooshamoosh!
DR. SQUOOSH: OK, time out, what exactly is this inane gibberish you keep spouting?
ASSISTANT: Why, it be the musings of the trangloffeter, the wumpafofteffefer!
DR. SQUOOSH: Not that inane gibberish, I’m referring to the crap about life being a gift, good, wonderful and grand, how it is what you make of it, can be happy if guided by the correct hand. Dude, that’s just bullshit. Life is but a broken hourglass, sands spilling into nothing, silence, inner violence, screams echoing without a sound, lost souls never to be found, buried nowhere, wrapped in your shroud, the sun smiles behind a cloud, grey the color of the sky, released upon the canvas to forever die. And why? To try is a lie. So certainly apply, a new school of thought. For what the hell has it ever brought. But failed dreams, sickness, misery, the only picture you will ever see, the only world that will ever be. So, by all means, stare out through the broken looking glass. And so declare--
ASSISTANT: Dr. Squoosh, thou be an ass.
DR. SQUOOSH: Insane barrage of all the garbage. Victim of the triage to save the soul, powerless who wish control. So let the dice roll. And take your second chance, fuck off to circumstance, why not begin the dance, with life your ever partner, so embraced, fuck off to hell you’ve faced, make it replaced with a smile, to be worn all the while, as you eloquently glide through life’s glorious ride. What the fuck do you think you could possibly say to lead me to not see a broken day? What could you possibly think you could impart to me, to make me see a new reality? So shut the fuck up and back the fuck up. I will drown within my burning town. The final flourish of the moron clown.
ASSISTANT: Dr. Squoosh. Look, Dr. Squoosh, your optimism level is off the charts but only because it never even made it onto the charts. I believe there might be some confusion as to what our purpose is here. We, Dr. Squoosh, are here to follow in the footsteps of the great Seuss, be an instiller of spiritual glee like the great Zeus! Strike mantra bolts of heaven down from the sky. Make all thoughts go by and by. So, let us work together, Dr. Squoosh. I’ll begin with a line and you take it from there. Now then. The cow with the fiddle and the happy monkey in the middle…Your turn, Dr. Squoosh, your time on the stage.
DR. SQUOOSH: The cow with the fiddle and the happy monkey in the middle, you’re motherfuckin crazy if you think I’m going to fuckin sittle here and listen to this dumbass shit.
ASSISTANT: The cow with the fiddle and the happy monkey in the middle, here is where I’ll sittle and figure out the riddle of the meaning of life. A riddle easy to see, only one answer it could be, life is filled with glee, isn’t it great to be me!
DR. SQUOOSH: Dude, shut up.
ASSISTANT: Life is looking ever up, half full, it is my cup, fubbily, wubbily sluckety flup.
DR. SQUOOSH: Shut the fuck up.
ASSISTANT: No, why don’t you shut the fuck up, Dr. Squoosh.
DR. SQUOOSH: Oh, I’m sorry. Pardon me, but I was under the impression that your goal here was to get me to speak and in so doing have me spout such idiotic nonsense as life is good, be happy, fa la la la la.
ASSISTANT: Yeah, it was but you’re doing such a horrifically bad job, at this point I just don’t want you to say another word.
DR. SQUOOSH: Another word.
ASSISTANT: Don’t say another word.
DR. SQUOOSH: Another word.
ASSISTANT: Dr. Squoosh, what did I just say?
DR. SQUOOSH: Another word.
ASSISTANT: You’re trying my patience, Dr. Squoosh.
DR. SQUOOSH: Yeah, I’m trying it but to be perfectly honest it really isn’t working.
ASSISTANT: This is not working, Dr. Squoosh!
DR. SQUOOSH: I couldn’t agree with you more.
ASSISTANT: What the hell is wrong with you, Dr. Squoosh?
DR. SQUOOSH: Many things.
ASSISTANT: How, how can you not look out at this glorious creation that is the world and not be happy for the gift of life. Why do you remain within the prison of gloom and doom, refusing to see that the door to your cell is open and you are free? Free to be, verily, happily, a sailboat gliding merrily upon the sea. You must always look on the bright side, always up, not down.
DR. SQUOOSH: Give to me one reason I should not put down the moron clown.
ASSISTANT: Contrary, you should indeed put down the moron clown so someone with a smile can take its place.
DR. SQUOOSH: I would never wear a smile upon my face.
ASSISTANT: Then, the moron clown you must erase!
DR. SQUOOSH: Then that, indeed I’ll do. (DR. SQOOSH pulls out an eraser and starts vigorously rubbing it on himself.) Not working.
ASSISTANT: For God’s sake, Dr. Squoosh, I, I, I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or get angry.
DR. SQUOOSH: Why not laugh at the fact that life will only ever give you reasons to cry and get angry.
ASSISTANT: You know what, I’ve had it, Dr. Squoosh! Screw you, Dr. Squoosh! (the ASSISTANT grabs a full length mirror and smashes it over DR. SQUOOSH’s head. DR. SQUOOSH just stands there with no expression, blood pouring down his face.) Oh my God, what have I done? (the ASSISTANT starts crying) I’m sorry, Dr. Squoosh, so very sorry!
DR. SQUOOSH: There, there, not to worry. “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened”.
ASSISTANT: Thank you, Dr. Squoosh. I feel better now. You’re the best!
(DR. SQUOOSH and the ASSISTANT turn and exit out the door.)
(Blackout)
The End
No. Neither of the two men were Godotal. But, I knew, I knew Godotal would appear this night and his words of guidance would lead and so rescue me from the seemingly inescapable pit I found myself in. And so, I paced back and forth within the room, holding and drinking from my cup and…
I waited…
And waited…
And waited…
And waited…
And waited…
And then…
You know, I really needed to remember to close the damn door. There then entered, a man wearing a loincloth. He then, after closing the door behind him, began to speak, “Deliverance unto me an end to all of suffering. Suffer not, end the rot, make it something you can say you have forgot, so tie the knot spiritually, with that which will set you free. Lead all suffering unto me for I am who will set you free. From sufferance will come deliverance. So, say your penance, and forever faith have thou, for life is never about the now, always of the tomorrow, so push yesterday back into its sorrow. So wipe the sweat of your toil off your brow, and declare, fuck off to the here and now. It means nothing, it’s all about what one day will be, the beauteous future that you will see, and from your horrors you will be set free, and all of this because of me.”
“Yes, and you would be?” I asked, taking a drink.
“Why, it is me, Joseph Christ.” as these words were spoken there was also the sound of a chorus sounding off Hallelujah, played on a very old tape recorder carried by Joseph Christ.
I drank from my cup. “Joseph Christ, and your claim to fame would be?”
“Well, I am the brother of Jesus.” Joseph Christ stated proudly, smiling.
I scrunched my face. “So, what, expect some sort of appreciation, adulation, or guilt by association, do you?”
“But, I am the brother of Jesus, Jesus’ brother, so you know I’m the real deal, the genuine article, the prime minister of party land, baby.” Joseph Christ boasted.
I took a drink. “Prime minister of party land, is that your actual job title in the administration?”
“You know the prime minister is way up there in the cabinet, baby.” Joseph Christ arrogantly stated.
I drank ftom my cup. “What, so you’re saying you were tasked with the so important errand by your superiors of retrieving some old tupperware and got stuck.”
“The prime minister don’t ever get stuck, not when he’s driving his macho statement truck. Ha, Ha!” Joseph Christ raised his hand for a high five, “Come on, hit me up high, you know I’m the man, Stan.”
“No.” my succinct refusal.
“You won’t give me a high five or you don’t know I’m the man?” Joseph Christ asked.
“Both” I declared.
Joseph Christ’s face then snapped into a look of offended condemnation. “Sir, thou hath just cast an inexcusable arrow at my ego and for that grievous sin I will now deprive you of the pleasure of my presence. Kindly open the door so that I might now leave.” he demanded.
“Open it yourself.” I replied.
“Hmph. I find you to be highly disagreeable and morally offensive and repulsive.” Joseph Christ took out and dropped a handkerchief at my feet.
“Why exactly did you drop your handkerchief at my feet?” I inquired.
“To prove to you what a despicable mongrel you are.” Joseph Christ stated with a sneer of indignation.
“Hmm, yes, consider it a success. In fact, let me get the door for you so that you may now leave.” I walked over and opened the door.
“Ha!” Joseph Christ walked out the door then turned and faced me, “You can’t put one over on the prime minister of--”
I shut the door and walked back to my chair and sat down.
No, that had not been Godotal. That was actually the prime minister of party land. But, I knew, I knew, I was certain that Godotal would indeed reveal himself this night. There was no doubt. My confidence was unbreakable.
And so…
I waited…
And I waited…
And I waited…
And I waited…
And then…
The doorbell rang. I raised myself from my chair, cup in hand, sipping from it as I walked. I opened the door and immediately outside was a large video screen and the sound of pounding drums and crashing cymbals and a bellowing voice, announcing with a roar, “I am the all powerful Oz!” Drums rolling, strobe lights flashing, me closing the door, returning back to the chair, taking a drink.
And I waited…
And I waited…
And I waited…
And then…
The phone…
It rang…
It was…
It was…
It was Godotal…
And then, Godotal spoke his words of wisdom I had so been awaiting, the answer to my prayers, “Child, it is me, Godotal. And suffer no more for the answer I indeed do have. Child, from your darkness just turn and face the sun, for then all of life will be fun, and misery will be so undone, and then, indeed you will have won, the war, regardless phyrric or complete battles lost, a never ending holocaust. Bear truth to this wisdom I now here bore, open the door, to a brand new day, and all that is bad will go away. All you need to know is this, and then the goal of happiness, you shall never miss. Become ringmaster of the happy times parade, and when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”
There was then a lengthy pause as I reflected on the words thusly spoken…
“Are you motherfuckin kidding me? What in hell is this idiotic charade. How about, when lemons give you life, make lifeinade.” I responded.
“Oh, no, no, no, must make lemonade.” declared Godotal.
“I don’t even fuckin like lemonade.” I snapped back.
“Well, how about pink lemonade?” Godotal suggested.
“I don’t like pink lemonade, either.” my voice became confounded, “And, do pink lemons even actually exist? What the fuck even is that stuff?”
“Why, it is a lemonade that is pink.” announced Godotal.
“So, it’s still lemonade so how exactly does that help me?” I challenged, frustrated.
“Life is only ever what you take from it. You can make a gallon of shit that you then swallow as you wallow, but is there not a better elixir to be made? When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” so proclaimed Godotal.
I drank from my cup. “Really, that’s the fuckin best you’ve got. Excuse me, when exactly was it I enrolled in the culinary institute of life?”
“Why, last September to be exact and I must inform you that your payment for the past semester is far past due so if you wish to continue as a member of the college you will need to pay up, post haste, a check is perfectly acceptable, now then, here’s a pen.” answered Godotal.
“You are aware you’re talking to me on the phone.” There was then a knock at the front door, “Look, Godotal, someone’s at the door so I gotta go. I can’t fuckin believe I was waiting around for the wisdom that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I’m hanging up now, Godotal, bye.” I hung up the phone, lit a cigarette, refilled and grabbed my cup, took a drink, carried the cup with me and went to open the door. I opened it and standing there was Godotal.
Godotal spoke while holding out a pen in his hand, “Here now, take the pen, please make the check payable to Godotal Culinary Institute Of Life.”
“Keep your fuckin pen, and a go fuck thyself to your university, your fuckin college never actually taught me how to make anything that didn’t make me want to fuckin vomit.” I acerbically replied then took a drag from my cigarette.
“Hmm, child, you seem to be a bit downtrodden.” Godotal held up his index finger and spoke with revelatory purpose, “You know, I think you could really benefit from some inspiration and words of wisdom from the real Godotal.”
“I thought you were Godotal.” I responded with confusion.
“Tell you what, let me go get him, be right back.” The man I thought was Godotal then left as I stood there, taking a drink from my cup, smoking my cigarette. I was actually relieved that had not been Godotal, himself for it meant I still had hope that when the actual Godotal revealed his wisdom to me, all would indeed be well, and I could indeed bid good day to hell, and I would be truly done with it, and so would finally end, all of the shit.
The man who I had originally thought was Godotal returned, but this time he was wearing a baseball cap and glasses though it was unmistakably obvious that it was, in fact the same person. “Greetings, child. Worry no more, I am here to open the door, to happiness, with my saving grace. For, I am Godotal. Remember this and all will be well, life every moment swell. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Um, but bear in mind, last semester’s tuition needs to be paid. Here’s a pen.” He held out a pen.
“Keep your fuckin pen, you douche. And you do, of course realize I’m not actually enrolled in any fuckin actual physical culinary institute. It was a fuckin metaphor, a sardonic joke.” I took a drink.
“Oh certainly, we do teach metaphor at Godotal-U, and jokes, why, yes, indeed, Comedy 101 is one of our most popular comedy courses, this course, of course, being of course the only one. Oh, I think you’ll fit in well here at Godotal-U. Now then, about the first semester’s tuition. Here’s a pen.” He held out the pen, again.
“There is no fuckin Godotal-U, and I don’t want your fuckin pen and I’m not writing you a fuckin check!” I barked.
Godotal shrugged. “Certainly, a credit card would be acceptable.”
“You’re not getting any fuckin money, you douche!” I angrily shouted.
Godotal put his hand to his chin and nodded his head. “Hmm, I am definitely detecting that you are in distress. You know what I think would help you?”
“Let me guess, words of wisdom from the real Godotal.” I cynically guessed.
“Exactly! Now then, just let me go and get him. One minute.” Godotal then exited as I stood there and smoked and drank. After about a minute, Godotal returned, only he was now wearing a straw hat and had thrown a poncho over what he was wearing. He outstretched his arms and spoke, “Child, it is me, Godotal!”
I took a long drink, then a long drag. “Oh joy, my salvation is finally here.”
“Child, I want to personally invite you to Godotal Universidad, located in sunny Mexico. Where, to get away from the heat of the sun, you can reflect on our motto as you sit in the shade. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” Godotal held up his index finger, “Of course, as for the tuition, cash is preferred, American dollars, but pesos would be possible.”
“Look, drop it, already, I’m not going to give you any fuckin money and just stop saying that damn useless line. It was in no way helpful the first time, less and less so with its repetition. So what you’re doing is bringing me to less than nothing. Thank you oh so much for your unquestionable wisdom.” I snarled with an absolute heaping of unmistakable sarcasm.
Godotal nodded his head, a pensive look on his face. “Hmm, I am picking up on a possible hint of maybe some slight smidgeon of dissatisfaction. Hmm then, let’s see, lets see, let’s see. Oh, I think I have the solution. Let me go get the real Godotal. Just hold on a moment, this will solve everything. Brilliant chap, he is. Hold on now.” Godotal walked away from the door as I stood there, drinking from my cup, smoking my cigarette. Godotal returned a couple minutes later. He was no longer wearing the straw hat and poncho. Instead, he was wearing a beret and an obviously fake, thin moustache. “Why, bonjour, child, it is me, Godotal!” He spoke with what was most likely the worst French accent ever attempted.
“Why, Godotal, how hath thou been? It truly has been so long.” I took a drink.
Godotal smiled. “Oh, been well, been well, tres bien. Tres bien, certainmant.”
“Opening a branch of Godotal-U in France, are we?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
But, Godotal answered dismissively, “Oh, no, no, not at all, campuses just in the United States and Mexico.”
“Hmm, I’m actually surprised.” I drank from my cup.
Godotal shook his head. “No, no, no, no campus for Godotal-U in France, no, no. In France, we are just christening the maiden voyage of Godotal cruises!”
I took a drink from my cup and a drag from my cigarette. “My, you certainly do wear many hats.”
“Why, yes, indeed, I do. Why, I’m actually, aside from the owner of the company, the pilot of the cruise ship, itself.” Godotal announced.
“Are people who are actually controlling the ship actually called pilots?” I asked.
“To be perfectly honest, I really don’t know.” answered Godotal.
“You don’t actually know but you are one?” I observed.
Godotal nodded his head. “Yes, indeed.”
“Lovely.” I took a long drink then a drag from my cigarette..
Godotal spoke with a momentous tone of importance, “You see, Godotal Cruise’s goal is to set sail with its occupants to the island of happiness, the voyage that is life. For sometimes you will hit choppy waters but when upon Godotal cruise ships you can weather any storm adversity could possibly throw at you as you calmly, smoothly sail to that blessed island, always remembering along the way, when gone awry, your best plans you laid, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”
“Will you stop fuckin saying that, if you don’t, so help me.” I shook my head, feeling a seething anger, “Christ, I put all of my hope in your hands that you would impart upon me wisdom and a meaning to life, a reason, peace and happiness, and all I get out of you is that damn phrase. That is the extent of your wisdom and life guidance? That is somehow supposed to solve all my problems and vanquish hell. You know, to possibly believe that useless crap you spout has the slightest iota of meaning, think I’d first have to drink the Kool Aid.”
“Um, no, it’s lemonade. Though, what if Kool Aid made a lemon flavor?” Godotal took on a ponderous, contemplative appearance, “And I must admit, I am actually quite fond of the aid spelling, makes you feel like it is really helping you, Yes, yes. The ever wise guide that is Godotal has just deciphered another of the mysteries of the secret to life, prosperity, happiness and peace, which I will now share with this memory tool you need to remember to forever keep you on track to this blessed existence, guided by my benevolent hand. Now then.” he cleared his throat, “When life gives you lemons. But you want life to be cool. Drink the Kool-Aid.” Godotal paused then nodded his head contentedly with a beaming smile, “There, there, child. Did I not tell you that all would be well, that I would sweep in and save the day, make all pain and misery go away, ensure that glory, beauty, wonderment would forever be there to stay? Drink the Kool-Aid, my son, drink the Kool-Aid. But, now, I must be off. For there are other lost souls I should attend to. I am merely happy I was able to help.” Godotal waved his hand in a magnanimous fashion, “No, no, no, I do not wish gratitude. If though, you do wish, for you, to express your appreciation then by all means buy a round trip voyage on Godotal Cruises. Very reasonable rates, let me add, an abundance of entertainment options, and quite roomy cabins with free continental breakfast. And next time you are feeling down, please, just remember, when life gives you lemons but you want life to be cool. Drink the Kool-Aid. Godotal has spoken, so let it be written, so let it be done. Good day, son. May your day only be fun. Ah, but how could it not be.” Godotal chuckled three, self-satisfied, little laughs then walked out the door, pulling it closed behind him. I walked over and put my cigarette, which was at its end, out in an ashtray. I filled my cup then took a drink, then another, then filled it to the top again. I sat on the chair. I pulled out and lit a cigarette and took a drag. I drank again from my cup…
So, exit the stage, or vent your rage, or continue to rot within your cage, you’ll never turn the story to a new page.
Wait just another moment more…
And within your room, stare at the sealed door.
Then try, if possible, to realize something not completely fuckin dumb.
Godotal. He ain’t ever gonna come.
Goodbye. Good night. And, God bless.
The End
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