The Devil’s Contract (Part II)

You get in your car and close the door; you hesitate to start that bitch up, but you know you have to. You turn on the radio and it’s on a station with political pundits talking about the vaccine and its effectiveness against fighting the disease. You know it’s bullshit because they’re essentially saying it makes no difference if you take the vaccine, the chances of it spreading are the same. What they’re not saying is that more people die from the vaccine than not, and that any complications that happen in hospitals is not due to the advertised disease but other diseases like cancer, malaria, HIV/AIDS, Tuberculosis, etc.

You sigh and change the station as media propagandist bullshit is not the first thing you want to hear in the morning.

The station you’re on now is some trash ass song by one of these new artists with a trashy ass name and you decide to turn the radio off as your morbid thoughts about the institution you have to trade your time away to are actually more entertaining.

You sit in your car and wait for that bitch to warm up because it’s an older model, but it gets you from point A to point B and that’s all that matters. You look around and you see a BMW drive by and wish you had enough money to get a car like that. Funny thing is, you’re not a BMW guy, you just want to be able to afford it to say you could. You lean back in the seat and sigh a deep, exasperated sigh. A sigh that encapsulates the phrase ‘I’m too old for this shit’ and stare into existential nothingness.

A couple minutes pass by.

When the car feels warm enough to drive, you put it in reverse and back out your designated parking spot, turn left, then turn right as you put it in drive and forge forward out of the apartment complex you live in. You look both ways before pulling out and you make a right to begin the arduous and painful journey toward the institution.

When you make it to the freeway, you stay in the slow lane as you’re not exactly rushing to trade your valuable time away for a bullshit paycheck, doing meaningless work just to pay the bills, to push a product you don’t give a fuck about and never heard of before you applied to the institution. The existential crisis is now well underway, and your thoughts are racing at a million miles a second, spinning their wheels more for their own entertainment than finding a solution to the existential problems of your life. Your brain does this because that’s what it always does, complains about the externals and absolves itself of accountability and responsibility for its own actions and decisions.

However, the thought of your current predicament being your fault and entirely self-inflicted is almost enough to make you swerve left and crash into the walk and take yourself out and the unlucky bastards that happen to be in the way at the time.

Thing is with your luck; you’d probably live and suffer from a sprained neck than sustain any life-threatening injuries. And you’d probably have to pay insurance of your bullshit car, if you even have insurance to begin with.

But who are we kidding? Insurance is a government enforced scam to rob you blind of your money, the same money government already taxes you before you even get your hands on the paycheck you supposedly ‘worked hard’ for.

Talk about highway robbery. . .

A couple minutes later you reach the exit you need to take that would put you within the direct vicinity of the institution you sold your soul to for $15/hr. You glance at the clock and see that you still have some freedom (time) left and decide to take a little detour and go to Starbucks, or maybe In-and-Out or Chik-Fil-A and get you something extra, maybe a snack, maybe a meal as comfort food is a must when dealing with existential crises.

You decide upon taking the drive thru as sitting in a restaurant of any kind with other people gives you a form of anxiety as the pandemic has actually blessed you with something called peace and quiet as everyone social distanced for a while and left you the fuck alone. To your surprise, it doesn’t take that long for your order to be taken and your food to be made. You grab your items, drive through the parking lot and look for a spot to eat in private.

After a couple minutes you find a spot where no one resides, and you park there. You put the car in park and open the bag and begin consuming your goodies. This is probably going to be the most joyful part of your day, so you make sure to make the most of it. That is until some asshole parks right next to you and ruins the moment of peace and quiet you were just having. This time, it’s an asshole that’s blasting some trashy rock music and bopping his head aggressively. You think to yourself ‘of all the spots in this parking lot, why the fuck did you decide to park next to me?’

Luckily, the douche gets out of his car and goes toward the restaurant you were just at and gives you perhaps a few more moments of peace and quiet.

You try to quickly forget about that and continue enjoying the food you were eating; however, when you look down you see it’s already gone in a flash. As if a ghost came through and picked up where you left off. Thing is you know that it was your training that kicked in, so you scarfed down your little meal without realizing it.

You want to blame the asshole that blasted his music so bad, but you know that it’s your own fault you’re int this predicament. That this position you’re in is completely self-imposed, that you didn’t have to sign up for that specific institution; however, you’re also painfully aware that it is not all your fault as that you give you something called power, something that tends to belong to so called ‘rich people’ and ‘high-class elites’.

You don’t have power though, you’re just a trained seal that clings to the illusion of freedom while in the midst of enslavement.

You slurp down the remainder of your drink and look at the clock and see its almost time for work. You put the car in reverse and back out the parking spot and put it in drive and finish off the painful journey toward the institution.

When you get to the building the remainder of your soul leaves your body. Just looking at the motherfucker is enough to make you break down and cry. If you’re in the restaurant business, it’s probably a lightly colored building that looks welcoming and light-hearted. If you’re in the corporate business, it’s a tall, glassy motherfucker that’s blacker than an anime’s darkest corners and on the inside is nothing but black, grey, and pale greens that make no sense as a color scheme.

Doesn’t matter what business it is, same shit, different day.

You look at the clock and you see that the end of your freedom for the day is nigh, and your head involuntarily sulks as you make that shameful walk and begin yet another shift at the institution.

To be continued. . .

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s