The Greater Good

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                            ONE

Vision hindered, the young man groped around in the blindness. In circles or squares; how many or where, he wandered this infinitesimally vast expanse of nothingness, or rather the feeling of, bereft of...

"This is it"

"This is what the whole world really is!"

Mumbles Sauzu to himself. Glasses perched snugly on his crooked camel-hump of a nose, feet outstreched, propped up on a wooden bench facing the window blinds, at 2:01 AM on Monday, November 17th of the year two thousand and eight.

"But what if I'm the only one who thinks thats the right interpretation of my, thence ours, existance here."

"Should I carry the torch into the void not knowing what's waiting for me there?"

He lets out a squeal as his left toe slams straight into the corner of a 600 pound mahagony dresser. Toes cant see if the eyes cant see! And yet there was Sauzu, face all crumpled up, cursing away his left toe. Blind as a car without headlights in the night, he was. And still, contradictorily enough, the irony was that Sauzu was the destined "torch bearer", the giver of light for the rest of the world, yet he had none for himself. A tragedy if you will, of him who gave out to the world, what he needed the most.

Aristotle pops up like a spec in an ocean of darkness. "Virrrrtuouss be this man. For he sacrifice willingly his sight for yours, his light for yours. Give him not your watch or your wallet, my friends, because he asks none of that. Give him but the affirmation of your realizing that his heart, and yours, along with your neighbors, boss, dog's, that guy across the room, those guys across the parking lot, the pandas in London, the bamboos in China, the prostitues in Bangkock, the monkeys in the zoo, the late Steve Robert Irwin, The Backstreet Boys and all of them mediawood swingers, Dolly the Sheep, the Pope, all of the Popes before him, and the rest of the world that I have decided NOT to mention for the sake of my sanity, its citizens, past, present and future, that they all - we all - are united deep down under, deeper than even our seemingly abysmal subconciousness, so ridiculously deep down are we tied to each other, that logic simply ceases to exist, for the subtle reason that logic is irrelevant there, it is not needed; and laspe of a need fills the need for logic to exist, which is why it doesnt. So when we stumble upon the precious truth, the only truth, in fact it would be heresay to even call it a truth, because choosing to follow this dichotomy of language would imply the presence of false, or lies, whereas in reality, there are no other truths, no other lies, just 'that' 'fact', if we could call it one."

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                                                           TWO

Neelok stares intently at the doorknob. Behind him the atmosphere is a gloomy 33F Monday afternoon. Timidly, his right hand moves towards the door. Just when its about a quarter of an inch from the knob, a blitz jumps right up from the shiny bronze knob and pierces into Neelok's index finger, migitating towards all corners of his body on the super neurotic highway that was his spine.

It always jumped. 'Do I have such a magnetic personality?' he mused, tapped the doorknob a couple of times and wrung open the door.

'He miss class again?' Neelok speculated, looking at his roomate's limp body on the couch. 'What's wrong with this guy?' 'Should I wake him up?' 'Nevermind. Lets give him a chance to regret his nocturnal lifestyle; none of my business'.

He walks up to the window, draws the shades apart. The whiteness outside glows an unearthly white through the panes. 'Whats wrong with this place? How can people live in such snow? Only yaks, and yetis, are fit for such desolate climate.' Neelok then proceeds to grab a cup, fill it 3/4 with water and 1/4 with 2% skimmed, 2 tbsps sugar, a tbsp of Nestcafe coffee, stirs it well and pops it in the microwave for 80 seconds.

His roomate stirred, probably distracted from his sugary fetishes and fantasies by Neelok's coffee-making process, rather the sound created from it. 'About damn time' Neelok muttered while looking at his watch.

'Coffee for you?'

".....MmmmhhmmMmmm....."

'Ok, give me 116 seconds'

"...mmm What? 116 seconds???....."

'Nevermind, just wanted to get your brain started'

"Oh thanks! Thats much better, I'm awake now. I guess my mind has a mind of its own."

'It sure does.'

".... O.o ?"

'Bet I got you thinking didn't I? No need to thank me.'

Beep! The microwave cried. Beep! Beep! Neelok tended to it promptly and delivered the coffee to his roomate. 'Nescafe.'

"Oh! I thought it was NesTcafe"

'What now?'

"Like with a 'T' in the middle of 'nes' and 'cafe' 'nesTcafe'"

'You're trying to tell me that the coffee I've been drinking for the past four years suddlenly has a T in the middle of it that I didn't realize or see before?'

"No! I didn't mean that! Offcourse there's no tea in Nestcafe, dont be ridiculous. I'm just saying that its spelt that way"

'For all you know dude, it could be spelt Nestcaffeine, now drink up like a good boy should and go to school.'

"Ha. Funny. What time is it?"

'Time for your ass to wake up and clean this joint'

Both of them look around. The room reeks of cigarettes. Its not a very big room, You could probably fit two Toyota Landcruisers, if you got them squeezed in just right. Or maybe not quite. Lets agree that it is the size of half a tennis court. Almost. There's a study desk in one corner, near the only windows to the room, and on the opposite corner sits a plywood desk, if there is such a thing. Next to the desk were the dresser, above which was stacked a TV rack with six or seven compartments, but no TV. A Yamaha classical acousitc guitar stood proudly next to the desk, supported by its stand, and there was a couch facing the windows, in front of which was a small plywood bench probably for propping one's feet on it for more comfort while sitting on the couch watching movies.

[..will be continued..]

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Last edited: 18-Nov-08 03:57 AM

Last edited: 18-Nov-08 04:01 AM

dekchidriver

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