Contradictions

contradictions

 

By Alberto Pupo

It was the best of days, it was the worst of days, it is the end of days! The horror and shock to see it all end before your eyes. Fire, brimstone, and all of the above. To watch thousands of years of human progress wiped out in an existential blink. Of course, that is nothing more than a fantasy, a very deranged one. He is starving on out in the streets, looking for a warm place to stay. City life sucks, he wants the real life. The one where he was the most powerful man in the world, staring down from his ivory tower, untouchable, unbreakable… That is how they described him till the day of his arrest. He was the callous sort. Short on empathy, high on just about everything. But it is this high that led him to s path of self destruction… all because of her. She was beautiful, like Helen of Troy beautiful ships and all that were launched in her name. Unfortunately, her husband was a real fucking sleaze, (but a wealthy one at that). They, however, were friends of sorts… they would get a drink and see who would fuck the cocktail waitress first. He was the epitome of a gentleman. (the asshole kind). Then one night while shooting the shit, He told him about “it.” A small lacquered box, where inside he was storing some magnificent treasure. At first, he thought the guy was full of shit! Just another made up story. But not until he took that little box and opened it… what he saw was unreal… it was the end of days… so beautiful a diorama of all humanity… he called. It… He called it nothing; he called it existence in a box… I call it a contradiction.

He remembers drinking a lot that night, masturbating, and then drinking some more… the next morning. She appeared at his door. Huge, beautiful, supple breasts, skin, soft as lace, he could already taste her… She looked intently into his eyes… deep delectable… he remembers being hard. (it was a great memory). She asked to come inside,he could feel her writhing beneath him already. She is a doll. Then she locks the door behind him, and started crying, tears, a river of tears. Her beauty and sanity a contradiction. She told him about the box, to be careful as it can change lives. He pretended he had no clue what she was talking about… he wanted to hear her version of things. What exactly was it that he saw that night while drinking with her asshole husband? She told him a strange tale he only half caught the details he could not stop staring at her tits… he is a pig, and he knows this (his feminist ex-girlfriend let him know every day. She finally stops talking as it became clear what was going on in his head and his pants, she proceeds to take her clothes off. They well did things, and it all was well… until they stormed in screaming, rudely… several FBI agents holding guns waving them at his face… she just sat there casually breasts exposed as if nothing were happening…. He remembers looking at her face she seemed sorry? He is not sure what was going through her head, but he did eventually find out it was all a ruse… the box, the girl, the FBI… Was everything one giant trick of the light? Now here he is what seems like an eternity later rain falling upon him violently. The past is very hard to let go of; there was a time where he was someone, not another panhandler looking for some change. He still can’t find a place to go and the night is growing colder… he showers and thinks whatever happened to that couple? Was he still up there in the ivory tower looking down at him at this very moment? Laughing his ass off? Maybe she is there too, naked, beautiful, viciously cold a contradiction of humanity. Why was he selected for this project to take the fall for what? Because he had a weapon in a box? Because of the asshole and his sick wife? Are just waiting for the moment to unleash hell, and by setting this entire ruse up their scheme would go undetected? Or is it because none of this ever happened?

The eyes of the spectators continued peering curiously… It has been a long time since one man has bared so much of his soul. It was incredible to watch. This is what modern therapy has become, a game show of sorts. They continue to scribble notes the young therapists, listening to this man ramble on about things that happened twenty years ago. One man watches his students intently as they continue to listen to his tale of woe…

“Class what have we learned about Subject X?”

A shy beautiful young woman raises her hand waiting to be acknowledged.

“Yes, Kendra…”

She looks at him nervously very rarely does she participate, but something about this subject touches the very essence of her core…

“He seems to be a walking contradiction, a fine line between sanity and insanity.”

The class just stares at her somewhat dumbfounded unable to comprehend her philosophical response, and some were suppressing laughter, but the man who stood before them a very experienced therapist is nodding his head beaming with approval.

“That is a very keen observation Kendra… Class, she understand this…” For you see subject X is, in fact, a contradiction. Here is a man who we managed to rescue from Earth, right before that final explosion… This is a man who has seen a lot… “

The class seemed to nod in comprehension and continued to listen to the man speak.

 

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