Two men sign on for firing squad duty, because they need the hours and all the plum warehouse jobs have been plucked. They arrive half an hour late, which is a full hour earlier than the experienced squad members. As the wait drags on, the loudmouthed one turns to his semi-friend.
“Ever heard my favorite joke?” the loudmouth asks amicably.
His semi-friend ignores him.
“What bothers a nihilist?” he says unabated.
His semi-friend continues to ignore him.
His semi-friend puts out a cigarette on his arm.
Time for a fresh start with an empty bank account, no computer, and a wrist that makes an amusing clicking sound when pressed. The two roads open to me from this point are reckless ambition and making a strong impression on the evening news. Since I can’t find my bugout bag I’m forced to settle for ambition.
I’ll supplant my annual waxing about myself, the world, and whatever happens to be on the news with something new: a plan. A promise. A bona-fide update schedule. I know that’s a touch out of character, but change strikes when the mood strikes it.
On Mondays, there will be a thing from me. Whether it’s typed, photoshopped, or written on my skin in Braille, it will be there. On Thursday, there will be a thing from Mute Monkey. He is less reliable. If he proves otherwise, it is purely to spite me.
Here’s to free time, one-liners, and undiagnosed mental disorders.