Dumbfound

You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else.

~Albert Einstein

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Damien loved surprises. There wasn’t anything in this world, not one thing, that gave him such a thrill, a rush of happiness, as the look of pure shock. Give a startled jerk back, wide eyes, and features frozen into that universal expression of being caught completely off guard, and man, you just made this teenager’s day.

Damien had always enjoyed surprises as a child. He had loved surprise birthday parties, jumping out of closets and from behind the fridge to scream well-wishes in the face of the victim. He had loved to scare his parents as they came up the stairs, drawing his face back into a grimace-like grin, jump out and scream, “Boo!” with hands curled into claws by his face. Once Mommy fell back down the stairs and broke her wrist. Damien had apologized excessively, but later that night he had revelled in the glorious image of her look of shock as she had tipped backwards. She had had no clue. She had been at the highest point of surprise.

It took Damien a while to admit the truth:

He had loved it.

These days, Damien was done with happy surprises. Gone were the parties. He no longer jumped people on the stairs. He couldn’t find the strength to care about other people’s nice surprises, such as a new baby or a pay raise at their job. They didn’t effect him, and they didn’t give him the look of stunned astonishment. They didn’t give him the rush.

Damien had soon realized that the best surprises came hand in hand with fear. Happy surprises often gave way to laughter and smiles. Frightening surprises left Damien with a lovely, long-lasting image of the details of shock, and fear, in his mind.

Yes indeed. The worst were the best, Damien had since decided.

Damien was an interesting person, in the fact that he lived life as he wanted, not as he had been taught. He taught himself. He taught others what he thought, but he couldn’t force them to agree.

He couldn’t force them to be right, now, could he?

He had a philosophy, you see? Surprises were all in good fun, but if you wanted to be unique, if you wanted to be someone in this world, you had to make your own legacies. You had to work for them. You had to make people talk about you far into the future, never allow yourself to be forgotten.

Damien considered himself the teacher of surprise.

And he intended to make out his own legacy with a select collection of knives.

There was no better surprise than a sudden death.