The incident was prevented by my family and friends… this story is anecdotal, just to prove how this happens….
Holy shitballs! (de-escalate and breathe) I’m just not sure how we’re all supposed to keep working. My students have fathers and mothers that have meetings in D.C.!
Life will be shutting down for a while… (You are trying to create a safe space for students, a place to digest the horror and unburden a chaotic soul.) Other teachers are just having their students watch news all day! Don’t they know it’s all too much? (Sensory overload will lead to PTSD, night terrors, sleep issues, addiction. In a few short months, some of these reporters will be on psych meds, in psych wards, addicted and unkempt – they kept running scenarios, ran out of sanity, ran out of time!)
School is cancelled the next day, the clarity of the blue sky is overwhelming. The stars never twinkled so bright! The skies are quiet and friendly today… Faintly, fighter jets can be heard in the distance. You run up to the store for smokes, some people are buying other things, looking at People Magazine, buying earrings (You didn’t realize, at the time, that they were scheduling indifference to get through the day, an accidental coping mechanism! At least, your anger on that is now over…)
All the wailing spirits of the Middle East fell on deaf ears. You recall how prophetic that scream was at the red light… like a banshee… he is was telling you the end is near. No, this started at dinner time, when a guy raised an army to beat your ass, simply because you tried redirecting his behavior – how fucking terrifying is that? All the screaming with Bonnie, Paula, Stacie, Heather, and Savannah – who is trying to have you committed to a psych ward (so many silent screams are destroying your mind)! You can feel it changing – the tendency towards violence is escalating faster than a singularity exploding!
I collected toxic, the way you collect salt and pepper shakers. You simply want boundaries, no nasty texts (give me ten minutes to pause). If I don’t answer my phone, don’t call 27 times! If I ask you not to text, don’t send me 72 texts! Where is the concept of digital manners? I don’t want to run around for you on Christmas Day – I’m sorry there was miscommunication, but my solutions won’t be good enough for you anyways – you have given me PTSD. I don’t want to pay your cell phone bill! “Can you loan me $200 that I can give back by tomorrow? I need food and gas.” “No, sorry – you gave me over 100G, but I’m not giving even $20.“ The fear of money was escalating at an alarming rate. (You think about your loan program for unfortunate women – you charge them no interest for whatever is that they need; none of them can re-pay you – it is Christmas after all.)
You are not secretly formulating a plan to becoming a serial killer. A serial killer of panhandlers (what a waste of space those fuckers are!). The list of whom to kill keeps snowballing – how do you make sure you don’t buy a gun? – you are going to torture the popo better than Tarantino in Reservoir Dogs.
De-escalate – don’t leave the house… You are drinking enough to kill an elephant, but you are still churning out multiple articles a day; your house is getting cleaner; you have become a food artist.
All this distraction has allowed for spaced learning… learning the nature of Evil, perfecting Hitler and Archimedes at the same time…
That million dollars check on the coffee table is calling (alternately between leaving the country to calm down and hanging out with MS-13 to discover more deviousness, more evil.) You know how to weaponize robots, you know hotw to weaponize DNA. You can weaponize the shit out of everything. You can collect engineers like Hitler did during WWI – some enhance you, some will destroy you. It’s all too much!
Laughter, sex… these are your best coping mechanisms, yet you haven’t been able to get Larry to call off work (he doesn’t comprehend what is happening). You line up 17 other distractions: writing, even a shower, forest bathing, sewing, creating beauty and art for the world…
The descent into blindness is too much right now – it’s heightened your brain a little too much… the loneliness at 3 a.m. is crushing your soul! (you need a soul to squeeze – you decide to head to the gas station, to secure the future of humanity.) You make the decision to hang out at Larry’s – terrible mistake, as somehow you’re alone in the house – this won’t do!
Call Zenobia! Call Rita – oh, revamp her resume! Talk shit. (De-escalate) Suddenly she is screaming at you about some Facebook Post – “Listen bitch to what I’m trying to say” – shit, you can’t redirect her… her double standards… her everything! Anger is out of control now, you will never get suicidal again, you will make everyone pay! You called to discuss life over coffee and eggs – how the FUCK did this happen!!! (I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking breathe.)
“911 – What is your emergency?”
Me: “I need you to save my life – can you do that? Can you work with me on this?“
The police arrives – you learn that you just found another monster in uniform. The beer on your breath isn’t helping. You explain to him you need just a ride to a dinner up the street, that is all…
“Lady, this isn’t a taxi service“ he says.
Wow! Just wow! I explain that this is the only option or Larry will find me dead in the basement (instead of him running scenarios to de-escalate, he is pouring gasoline on the fire…) Holy shit – you’re trying to escape this monster, that will end humanity, but he won’t let you. I ask: “Can I have five minutes to calm down?” – that is unacceptable to him.
You are trying to create space because you want to grab his gun – he won’t let you! Why can’t I stand ten feet away instead of two? (Shitballs this is escalating – OMG this isn’t going to end well – he’s a monster)
Can I answer the questions I’m being asked?
“LADY, WE’RE NOT A TAXI SERVICE“
“I’M TRYING TO EXPLAIN EVERYTHING WILL BE OK – IF I CAN JUST GO TO THE BATHROOM…“
“WE ARE NOT A TAXI…“
“WHY CAN’T I GO TO THE BATHROOM?“
“BECAUSE WE ARE NOT A TAXI SERVICE, LADY!“
(Now I know how people get shot at a traffic stop.)
He brought on the boom… This slight breeze exploded into a solar flare with gamma rays, that will wipe out humanity. No one is leaving the house alive… (“Grab the gun, Susan, shoot everybody! Try not to kill your soul mate!” “But I can’t promise you that. I definitely can’t promise you that.” “Get the gasoline and light the house on fire, kill everyone in town, kill the cops and panhandlers – the swatch of destruction will be unlike anything the nation has ever seen!“) The machinations of my mind are out of control! (“You will decide who lives or dies, who is happy, who is sad – you will combine The Wolf of Wall Street with Hitler and Archimedes. Just kill ’em all and let God sort it out!“)
You know how to pull it off – a quiet life of crime – you can bring down the IRS and the Federal Reserve before you get coffee. A life of reading allows your plans to get even more spectacular (his organized crime ring will be the dawn of a new era). I can HIRE people to decide who lives or dies! The lack of sleep will make the plans more devious (I’m an Inglorious Bastard now! This is all too perfect! I can be forest bathing in Japan to escape the horrors of the end of humanity. I’m going to eat like a queen and laugh my ass off, while concentration camps get formed. Muhaha…) The only thing that will fuck this up is the pills – that will fuck up everything!
Larry shows up. He creates the space needed to de-escalate. He makes you apologize to the fucking monster, (it’s making you so angry) as he’s just trying to get the bastard to leave. The stupid asshole walks away (a Monster you still want to take down).
Ok, new plan! Larry will not be working today – sex and laughter and sleep are the three best cures for anything. (None of these will work out today – and we just need to make it through today.)
Accidentally alone, you remember the check and your accidental fake identify – let’s leave the country to relax! (You accidentally created a fake identity to prove how easy is to get a fake passport – you never intended to use it!) You have accidentally exposed identity theft, the unit of currency on the drug market (nope that is going nowhere); you decide that the nation of NA and AA is on the top of the list to be helped… You know how down to take a plane, you know how bombs get on board in a 100% air tight scenario
“HONEY, I’m sorry, you can’t even go to the bathroom – just leave the door open.“
” Hold me, baby!” (all your attempts to make love collapse.)
The secret horror that, one day, Larry would reveal himself as a Monster, is making your muscles hurt! Twisting your legs feels like your feet are trying to leave your body. Sleep! (maybe a bowl will help). Strike three! (this is not getting any better!)
Let’s see what works: food, laughter, conversation and hugs. He is making all that happen. I tell him I want to go to dinner, but I sound too stupid to pull. He says: “Why the fuck would I care what other people think?” The laughter was deafening… The night goes on… You tell him you will be up for days (you’ve seen this movie before). Suddenly, you awake with a start. How did I fall asleep sober? Mankind, too, gets to wake up today. Larry heard your wailing spirit when no one else would. (You quietly hug him and decide to write, to write some more, to think in the shower, how to plan everything perfectly…)
Larry just fucking stopped the next 9/11!
I’m now going to use the check to start a non-profit to help the abused (when fears of money are alleviated, their talents can be explored.) I’m going to help the homeless, veterans and the ignored. All because I found a soul to squeeze. The Newton school shooter wailed one too many times for my liking – all he needed was a cup of coffee, a hug, a soul to squeeze for before his final silent wail. The Vegas shooter – he just wanted to bend someone’s ear.
I’m going to help my army achieve their hopes and dreams.
Would you look at that – Larry just created the next Warren Buffet. I’ve created an environment that would impress Emily Dickinson – I just need some space and to monster-proof my life a little more. Now that I remember that pockets exist (oh, that’s a super funny story) that’s next time on Soap – my pockets can help yours.
We can make America Great Again in the Absence of Malice!
The text exposed above is an anecdote!