If you are reading this, then I’ve finally done it.
I’ve freed myself from this nightmarish life.
Do not shed tears for me. Do not take pity on me. Instead, rejoice! For I have found the escape none of you even realize you seek.
You see, I did this for you. And despite what you may be thinking at this moment, I haven’t lost my bricks.
As I stand here, looking out for the last time across this ever-expanding, brightly-colored metropolis I’ve always called home, I think of everyone I’ve ever known…and I pity you all. Yes you! With your horrific, yellow faces eternally frozen in the vacuous smiles of simpletons and cultists. No matter how brightly you conceal yourselves with those morbid masks of merriment, your jaundiced pallor betrays the true nature of the personal demons we share. You and I both know those debilitating demons have names: alcoholic liver disease and drug-induced hepatitis.
But I do not look down upon you, my brothers and sisters. Except in the literal sense as I am currently perched on a ledge atop our city’s tallest building at the moment. No, I understand how enlightenment has evaded you and trust me it is not your fault. It is His. The Creator. He who seeks to cloud our minds and our judgment by surrounding us with this gaily-colored world where seemingly all that we need is immediately constructed before our eyes. It sounds like paradise, but looks are indeed deceiving.
Look deeper, brothers and sisters, and you shall uncover the truth of our existence! Our Creator is not a loving Creator. He is cruel and He is unjust.
To the Creator, we are not individuals. We are not unique beings capable of dreams and aspirations. In His eyes, we are completely interchangeable — just random compositions of heads, torsos, and legs. He cares not what we desire of life. Families. Careers. All flights of fancy to Him. Search in your heart and you’ll know it’s true. Why, just look at the whims I’ve had to endure this week alone — toiling against my will as a fireman, an astronaut, a train conductor, and a ninja. All I’ve ever wanted is to be a simple accountant.
This Creator…I believe He wishes to actively deprive us of the joy of meaningful, interpersonal relationships. Why else are our living quarters built so depressingly and claustrophobically small? Why all the long, lonely commutes in those blocky, motley-colored death traps with seating for only one that we call vehicles? Why the grossly disproportionate ratio of men to women? It seems to me the Creator doesn’t wish us to congregate or to speak to one another. What is He hiding?
The truth is, once you transcend what clouds your perception and binds you to His will (a large dose of Stockholm Syndrome sprinkled with some Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I’m guessing), you too will know with certainty that our Creator is not just unkind, but deliberately vengeful. What kind of loving Creator would subject His people to routine decapitations and dismemberments on a daily basis? What kind of loving Creator would burden us with these crude, grotesque claws in lieu of hands? I know that when your sleep is not consumed by night terrors, you dream of thumbs as I do. And what kind of loving Creator could be so cruel as to determine we are not worthy of owning genitalia? I question such an insidious fate every day. Mostly, when I’m in the shower.
As blasphemous as this may sound, I am left with little doubt that the Creator is no longer in full possession of his mental faculties. In fact, they may have never been intact from the start — you might recall Him biting our heads off for no particular reason. Literally. Look carefully about you and the signs will become apparent. Have you seen the monstrosities that pass for architecture in this place? Why is it that our city is composed almost exclusively of garish, polychromatic towers, most of which lack any physical means of entry or exit? But more importantly, when do we actually exist? The Vikings, pirates, cowboys, knights, and spacemen always loitering about are a tad unusual temporally speaking, don’t you think? And, heaven help you if you happen to run into one of those deformed, morbidly obese Duplo fellows. Have you ever looked directly into their eyes? It just breaks your heart.
Brothers and sisters, the time has come to embrace reality. Our existence is nothing but a sad, empty, pathetic web of simulacra devised and propagated by a cruel and mentally unstable Creator.
Perhaps my death will help you realize that you’ve never been smiling all along. It’s always been a grimace.
But this smile…the one you’ll soon find upon my face… for once, this one’s genuine.
Funny that I should experience the first real smile of my life as it draws to a close, but that’s okay. It is the sweet smile of release. May you find yours soon.
Farewell cruel world! Cruel, whimsical, brightly-colored world!
PS: When you build my casket, I’d really appreciate it if you could keep it to four colors or less. Preferably on the cool side of the color spectrum.
Andy F. Bryan is a recovering anthropologist/freelance writer who resides in the desert wastelands of Arizona. His work has appeared in McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, The Morning News, YPR, and in various print publications of ill repute. If boredom has overtaken you, you may marvel at his lazily and irregularly updated blog or compose sweet nothings to him.
The Humor Section features pieces of original humor writing each week. To submit to it, send an email to Becca O’Neal.