The Droll Side

First,

There’s Paul,

Pauls a bud, you’ll see. Except right now he’s standing over a rather bludgeoned corpse, slightly smiling with droll amusement

That is Jared, Jared is dead. Long dead. I mean, he couldn’t be any dead….er.

I mean, Charon must be having a bloody tedious time piecing the body together just to ask the mangled, clearly Shaken Jared, “What happened man?”

Of Course Jared will dish out the answer that all have before him, and all will afterwards, “It’s just death, small price to pay, for action without judgment, destruction with impunity.”

Of course, Jared is Dumb as sh*t.

He doesn’t know what that even means, no matter how many times he has repeated it, in front of the mirror, after taking a good old stare. His eyes claiming an ounce of power no man has perceived, but plenty have felt before him.

So now Paul is looking down at the poor creature, who has only molten eyeballs left. God knows what that junk is made of.

The dust and mire, of what one would have called a skull, covered in the most curious of substances, for dog and man alike,

And he has no face, only that rather grim smudge he had stared so long into for weeks. In the mirror I mean.

Jared is a narcissist.

This is the fate that befalls all of the Ehudite Order, beings whose fate is sealed on the adamantine murals of God. And that fate is:

I will achieve great power and then perish. As those with great power find fun in doing, when presented with the scenario.

And something around the lines of: All destruction is an alias of creation and let us salute those imposed and burdened with the devastation, only the bravest can be met to handle. The whisper and torment. All have felt it, but none have seen it. Birth’s callous counterpart.

Shorter than any breath, but longer than any whisper. That will befall the most everlasting of monuments.

Paul knows the contract. It’s quite fun really. He giggles. Then smirks at his college, Bill, I believe. Now Bill, Bill is a story worth telling. Young go getter, robust, likes to write the occasional horror story, of course it’s based off his own work as a detective and then one day he finds out that his wife is dead, and he is in the murder case. Its unsolvable of course. That’s the real mystery.

Our work of art is always irreversible filigree,

The play we ourselves star in is always endless, always.

Always.

Anyway, Jared was quite the bastard to track down. Paul knows it doesn’t quite matter, though. They always end up on the street after, who knows, spending some time burning up old ladies, shooting lightning bolts at dogs and simply having a gay ol’ time. Then they blow up and Its Paul’s job to look down and quite quizzically kneel down to say, “He Won’t be bothering us any time soon.”

He smiles after he’s said it. I mean, Jared didn’t really do much, just a few 3rd degree burns. So he tells Bill to have a nice day, take care of the missus, and rides off. Of course, all detectives, or men of service ride camels to work and would rather avoid the 6pm traffic.

These days, Paul likes to look up at the sky and wonder, has it always been green and if so, has it really been that bright. Wow, if Only Id stare at it more. Because when ya come right down to it, Staring is the human way of saying, you look pretty darn cool, and I think you’re hot.

So, yeah, Paul wasn’t thinking that at all, but he certainly was thinking how screwy it was to be one of the Ehudites, who scorn all those chances to stare at something. O yes, those guys, always doing stuff. Never quite just staring enough.

It can’t be good for your health, no not at all. Actually, clearly not at all. As recent evidence has a funny way of making obvious.

The Ehudites are people endowed with awesome power. Mainly power to seriously hurt someone, or the power to cause lots of property damage in an amount of time normal, staring people could only dream of. Such is the essence of power, in most cases.

Naturally it’s illegal for the Ehudites to exists, but they still do, coz if they didn’t, wouldn’t that be sad. Then we’d have to find something disgusting to do instead of staring and they’d be the ones blowing up on the streets…..Illegally, of course.

Of course, you know all that already and me saying it again is nothing more than a practice in futility.

Jared’s corpse isn’t picked up quite yet. The pastor, who had identified that the belligerent is “Jared Markinowsky, Ithyphallicon the First, is named Dave. He is a devout follower of the faith that all men who bare the name Ithyphallicon follow, like our dear friend Jared. The faith, of Nososoryanimore.

Dave gives the traditional prayer for the recently deceased, which goes as, follows:

“We weep for the callous dead, who saw fit to leave us.

And we hope there is either no pain or infinite pain for him in the eternal life.”

A new pastor comes afterward, An Ehudite pastor, one specialized in these types of death. I think he’s called an Enuidite. This is the prayer that has been uttered time and time again for those of the Ehudites, who chose borrowed time over the ceaseless staring, which, in my opinion, is countless fun.

“We, who have shunned God, and Man, and earth, and water but not fire, but creation and all spirits whom resent us so, especially that oddly coloured sky,"

Pray to nothing but those who would renew our ranks, join us brother, creators of destruction.

“Who tasted decency and thought, nah, Im alright, I think it’d be quite the same, if I were a jerk,

If I were a sorry drag

If I could bring just a bit of destruction

And become destitute of all respect, just for a little fire,

That would be fine

That would be kind, For god cant love us all,

And why not hate us, who feel fine being hated, if it means

People will stare. And kind of are.

Never said it was fair.

Welcome to the droll side.

We the ephemeral,

We the ethereal

We, the “No Longer there.”