《Maladroit.》 A Darkened Soul. *** THE OLD BRAIN *** A Rope. A Knife. A Pill. In what manner should I end my tale? Amid this somber eve, a tormented soul roams, seeking to test the essence of humanity. Through the shadows'' haunting grasp, I tread cautiously through the night, bound for the realm renowned as Food and Stuff Hardware Store¡ªits name a siren''s call, beguiling and alluring. Yet, I wondered, would they grasp the sinister nature that lingers within this deceptive charade? Does mankind possess the acute discernment to perceive through this facade with a vigilant and unwavering gaze? The government''s eye, Oh! How it fixates on each transaction, those lump-sum buys, the very ingredients that fuel the dreaded alchemy of methamphetamine - a loathsome pursuit. Yet, it seems their concern is confined to these mere substances, overlooking the forsaken souls adrift, abandoned, and cast away in the shadows of society''s disdain. Do they not care for us outcasts, the social rejects shunned by the righteous masses? "Excuse me, kind Sir, assist me in my quest, To purchase implements, the tools for my unrest. A Rope, a Knife, a Pill, my mind is so unclear, In what manner should I end my tale?" How easily they acquiesce, no questions posed. They submit, never raising an eyebrow, never daring to inquire. My true intentions remain veiled; no prescription do they seek, unaware of the depths of my pursuit. We ascend the ladder of power, yearning for a greater force to lead us, a soul imbued with empathy, a heart unguarded and unfortified. "Excuse me, Madam, sharpest blade I seek, A Rope so tight, a Pill, my pain to peak. In what manner should I end my tale?" In frigid apathy, she lends her aid, no shred of hesitation in her gaze, no glimmer of surprise to hint at warmth or empathy''s embrace. The intricate schemes I devise escape her notice entirely. As we approach the cashier, an opportunity for them to peer into my soul. Will they discern the shadows that lie deep within me? "Excuse me, dear, permit me this small plea, To purchase these tools, my end, they''ll guarantee. In what manner should I end my tale?" Undaunted, they grant me passage, their apathy unyielding, towards the exit, my steps advance, no suspicion raised, concealing, a mastermind, a wicked scheme, within my heart elated. On the sidewalks, shadows writhe and cavort, a malevolent dance unfolds, and as I vanish into the dark abyss, this tale of darkness reaches its bitter end. My mind harks back to that first malevolent act, at the tender age of sixteen, ensnared I was in ambition''s grasp, the pursuit of success so keen. A dear friend once stood by me, forsaking all for my sake, rushing to my aid with unwavering support. For months, we conversed, and for years he postponed his own growth. Never again shall my actions entangle him in my wicked web. I cannot help but ponder the fate of my kin, their lives shrouded in doubt. As the conclusion of my tale draws near, will it cast an ominous shadow about? I have amassed riches for them, enough to purchase a child, but will they recoil in disgust at my lifeless form, despising the memory of their own flesh and blood turned malefactor? There, in the dimness of the night, two inebriated souls I see, their revelry in haze of booze and cocaine, a scene macabre to me. Their hulking forms could induce terror in any man. With utmost stealth, I execute my next maneuver, a calculated trip that sends one of them tumbling into the abyss of oblivion. "Do you want to die?!" "Yes, indeed." I replied. "I will kill you!" The second said. "In what manner should I end my tale?" The dogs'' bark echoed through the night, a chorus of disdain, yet lacking courage and spine to confront their fear held by a chain. Alas! My footsteps reached my office''s door, a familiar scent of paper in the air as if it knew this night''s events would lead to my final destination: despair. With resignation in my heart, I took up the knife, its cold and ruthless blade ready to seal my fate. The rope found its place around my neck, a thread of destiny woven with a strange allure. My eyes lingered upon the pill, a tantalizing promise of humanity''s quest to transcend mortality. Then, a sudden disturbance, a knock three times, rapping the door with a knuckle. I glanced at the clock, its relentless hands unyielding, pointing stubbornly at 3 am. "What do you need?" "Boss? Do you want to eat some breakfast? I made coffee." An intruder to my sanctum, disrupting the fragile solace that once enveloped me. This unwelcome presence, a cancer that bends everything to its will, shattering the delicate balance of my existence. In the face of such intrusion, I halted momentarily, granting myself one final meal, a somber feast before the impending slumber. "Give me 13 minutes," I replied. "I''ll wait." The voice caressed through oak. With utmost care, I tenderly arrange my dear friends inside a somber box, securing it with a combination of locks, safeguarding their peace in a trice. Donning a new suit, a facade of composure veils the grief that gnaws at my soul. I wash my face, attempting to cleanse the sorrow that stains my tear-stained cheeks. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "Who are you?" I asked. "I''m the new intern here! You know, just earlier? You really are precise with time, huh? 13 minutes on the dot." "I don''t even care for you." "Well, why should you?" She replied. "What is it you need? You will not get a promotion by trying to befriend me." "Oh, I know. I just made too much coffee, you see? I also ordered a little bit too much from UberEats." "You are a witch, a seductress." "Did you just compliment my face? That''s sweet, you know. They said you are the harshest person, but you are a teddy bear, aren''t you?" "What are you blabbering about?" "Nothing, boss, let''s eat! Check out this coffee. It''s good, I''ll tell you. Banana Peanut Butter Caramel Latte." "Are you jesting? Shouldn''t you know I only drink black?" "No, it''s not a joke. Drink it before you judge." "End my torment." I discarded my blazer, a symbol of formality, and rolled up my sleeves, ready to indulge in the peculiar concoction before me. "Oh, may this truly be poison," I said cynically, hoping for a respite from the world''s weight, even if only through a dark jest. A mere coffee, or so they claim, but the sight betrays it as a farcical brew, an amalgamation of bizarre flavors that elicits both fascination and disdain. I took a sip, and a peculiar fusion unfolded, to my surprise. The richness of fat and protein intermingled with the gentle touch of cinnamon, an unexpected marriage of elements that dare not overpower each other. The essence of tropical fruit danced delicately on my palate, a refreshing surprise that tempers any overwhelming sensation. Then, like a playful whisper, a hint of caramel graced my taste buds, delighting my senses and enticing me to explore this strange and intriguing concoction further. Oh, this is no ordinary coffee! It is a symphony of flavors, a curious dance of taste that sparks a symphony of sensations in my soul! "It''s good, right? Got it from Grandma." "That is a claim up for debate." "Hey, boss? What happened to your wrists?" What is she prattling on about? I merely hovered the knife over my skin, a sinister contemplation lurking within. I cast my eyes upon my wrists, half-expecting nothing, for the blade I held lacked the resolve to breach my flesh. With cautious intent, I gingerly grazed my skin, ensuring no single strand of hair was disturbed nor the tiniest speck of skin left visibly altered. "There are no knife marks here," I replied. "Booyah! Got ya!" "What?" "Yeah! I felt like you were doing some funny business, you know?" "How?" "I just know." Yet, whoever she may be, she cannot thwart my determined plan. The grand scheme shall unfold, and the world will soon witness its grim conclusion. I close my eyes, savoring the bittersweet affirmation ¡ª the final coffee that shall ever pass my lips. "Do you think Bitcoin is a good investment?" She asked. *** THE CORTEX *** "What the fuck?! No! That''s a moron''s currency!" "But, you see, I feel like it''s a good bet, you know?" "You feel?" "Yeah!" "Are you insane? How are you hired in this firm?!" "I have my ways. I can convince our CEO, you know. I am a witch, after all." "Oh God, no! I built this empire. How dare you destroy it all!" "I also think black coffee is just dumb fuck, you know?" "What?" "Why is it so bitter and bland?" "You don''t know how to make coffee." "Oh, I know how to make it. You just tasted my coffee." "Then you are just a moron." "You just complimented my coffee! You really are sweet, Boss Ethan." "Enough. First, do not proceed with any Bitcoin purchase without me. Second, I will give you comprehensive instructions on brewing black coffee." "Okay, boss! That''s a promise! Oh wait, I really do have a favor to ask. Listen to this. I made a business process. The name is F.U.C.K. Then I taught it once in a lecture, and everyone made fun of me! They called me a joke!" "First, what is with the Chaos? Are you perhaps an idiot? Second, wasn''t that the point?" "No! It''s really, really good, you see. It''s like the scientific method but just a lot easier to memorize." "Let me read it." "Okay!" "It is catchy and compact." "IKR." "But it is unprofessional." "Right? LMAO." "It''s a shame you got laughed at, really." "If you preach it instead of me, everyone will listen. You just have this confidence in you, you know? They say you never take free stuff! So you have to pay for the coffee." "What is the cost of this Banana peanut butter? I will gladly write you a check for a million dollars." "Oh, I don''t need that. I just want you to use and preach the F.U.C.K.". "That''s a tall order, but doable. What is your fucking name, lady intern?. "V!" she replied. I see. Shh, shh. Let me think for a microsecond; I''ll enter the pattern... Got it. I see everything clearly now. There is a path. Trust me on this one. It aligns with the fractals. Do it. *** THE FLESH *** Yes! There may be a shark lurking in the shadows, sinister and morbid, capable of illuminating this voyage ¡ª across the dark vast sea of existence. An unquenchable thirst sailed within my chest, a plunge into the waters of the abyss. After all, our lives grant us but a fleeting warmth in the melancholic ballet of infinity. I looked at her. She had eyes of a swirling storm of intrigue and uncertainty. "V," I said, breaking the stillness of the oceanic room. "Will you marry me?" Absurdity. *** THE FLESH *** Life is an erratic dance. A chaotic ballet with no choreographer, performing a cosmic comedy that we all watch, not because we want to, but because we simply exist. Confined inside a vast stage ¡ª so arbitrarily vast and devoid of any profound substance. We ask, what is the meaning of this dance? Surprise, be blessed with this dance! For they brand it as a divine gift given by the grand choreographer of it all. The very notion of meaning is a farce, a putrid devilish joke, and yet, why? Why am I perpetually ensnared in this quixotic quest to unearth it? Why does the specter of significance torment me so? Why am I compelled to chase a chimera in a world of erratic underworld? "Great job on the call for shorting last month, Ethan!" A donkey said while imitating coitus over our table. His tongue was out, licking his fingers and passionately massaging an imaginary vagina. "We fucked them up!" Passion, an alien emotion, I''ve wandered through existence without ever truly tasting its sweet yet acidic nectar. I drift through the urban jungle, weaving through boardrooms and banquets amid the ceaseless void of chatter and exchange of inconsequential trifles. The world of Finance, a grotesque play I''ve roped myself into, a cultist performance that worships the mundane and the superficial. The hollow smiles ¡ª the empty laughter! A relentless pursuit of opulence in a religion devoid of saviors. "We didn''t only fuck them up! We slit their throats to death!" A monkey said while drinking his red wine. Disgusting. I believed, I truly believed, for I was naive ¡ª I joined the race thinking that I would use my uncanny ability to decipher patterns. In Corporate Finance, a realm of numbers and statistics, I hoped to reach the finish line with a promise of a coveted ''meaning.'' However, the reality of it was a startling revelation ¡ª it was far from a virtuous endeavor. I ran, I tripped, and I got up. Only to see that the race was a labyrinthine maze, spiraling into the murky depths of greed, deceit, and cold indifference. The patterns I saw weren''t the ones I sought. They were darker, more distorted, revealing the unpalatable truth of a track designed for the perverse pleasure of a privileged few. "BAM, BAM, BAM! Thump, thump, thump!" The club screamed, assaulting my senses. The kaleidoscope of lights reflecting in my shot glass painted an eerily beautiful picture. Pink, blue, and yellow hues dance harmoniously, mirroring the false pretense of ecstasy. They, too, seemed like a grotesque mimicry of life''s absurdity, each color representing a facade we put on, each swirl a testament to the illusion of meaning we yearn for. The thrumming beats in the club echoed the hollow rhythm of our collective farce, the intoxicated laughter, the anthem of our existential comedy. "All hail the Absolute King!" the donkey said. "All hail the Absolute King! Hey whore! Come!" the monkey added. This is my life. Our life. A world of absurdity, a universe that mocks us with its indifference ¡ª its randomness. But here''s the rub: we laugh back. We dance in the face of this cosmic absurdity, ever seeking, ever questioning. We keep searching for meaning in a world that has none, simply because that is what it means to be human. And as I down the concoction, I realize that this, too, is part of the dance. The dance of the absurd. "We did. We did fuck them up," I replied. "How much for a blowjob?" The monkey said. "Oh wait, don''t ask. I can write a check for any amount. We are Kings, after all!" Their behavior was a spectacle of sorts, engrossed in the embrace of fleshly indulgence, notes fluttering like green doves in a sordid carnival. BAM, BAM, BAM! The club pounded a frenetic rhythm that trespassed into my senses, a relentless reminder of the animalistic pulse of humanity ¡ª a display of the sophisticated civilization we''ve built. I recoiled from the scene, the taste of my oak, a refuge from their revelry. "Don''t use your fucking teeth!" The monkey screamed. "Now that''s good. Are you honored, whore? Suck my dick. I am a King!" I was cut from a different cloth. I never yearned for their brand of gratification, their distorted take on ecstasy. I am not a sociopath, the label they seem to wear with a perverse sense of pride. I could never don that mask, for the mere thought of it curdled my blood. Yet the structure of the world around me seemed to wrestle with my conviction, pushing and pulling, nudging me into a mold I vehemently resisted. "Yeah, we are! Ethan, did you know that the competition''s CFO killed himself?" The donkey asked. "He fucking drove their company to bankruptcy! Idiot! Pathetic. And he calls himself a man." "What?" "He did. Oh, how his mother cried when we left the hospital." "What did you do?" "We paid our ''respects.''" The monkey said. "Oh, that''s good. Use more of your tongue!" Another victim of the erratic dance, succumbing to the screaming encore of the audience. My kind, you kindred soul, may you finally rest and find solace beyond this perverse theater. In this macabre puppet show, society played the marionettist, demanding conformity under the thinly veiled threat of failure. "Transform," they screamed, their voices echoing ominously across the stage. "Adapt, or you''ll be devoured by the system." The message was clear, stark, and daunting: be a cog in their machinery of avarice or face a fate worse than obscurity ¡ª irrelevance. Yet, the repugnance at this ultimatum coursed through me, a venomous insult to my integrity. Their brand of success, laced with decadence and depravity, was a price too steep to pay for you, my kind. "Fuck you," I replied. "What? I can''t hear you. Did you say Cash Accrue? Is there going to be a new accounting scam? The Absolute King works all day, no?" Ignorant. The duality of people never ceased to amaze me. By day, these same individuals who now reveled in debauchery exuded an air of professionalism that bordered on the theatrical. In the heart of the corporate beast, they were the paragons of conduct, yet beneath the neon lights, they were no more than swine in a sty, basking in their own filth. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. "Hey sexy, do you want to touch me?" A female stripper said. "No. I have a Fianc¨¦," I replied. The stripper hovered her body towards my pelvis and whispered. "It''s okay, baby. All the secrets of the house stay in the house." "Ooohh! I saw her, Ethan. She has a nice ass, alright! That was the intern, right?" The donkey asked, now vehemently exaggerating his coitus exercise. "Oh, I like me some of that Korean beauty!" "You really move fast! Did you fuck her already? Was it still tight? She seemed like the party type." The monkey said while a whore sucked his core. Copper. My gaze fell on my ring, its simple design a reminder of a different kind of beauty ¡ª it was a ring I bought from a beggar ¡ª it was the ring I gave to a kind soul, macabre enough to accept me. Yes! Oh, how wondrous the whirlpool of randomness and paradox spread. Life is absurd! Yet within its chaotic dance, moments of beauty surfaced, a sublime testament to the duality of our existence. I hear a silence within the cacophony. A still point in the turning world. The woman approached her profession etched into her every move ¡ª whatever its form. "Miss," I said, my voice gentle yet firm. "I respect your craft, but please move away." Her response was a raised finger, a rebellious salute as she sauntered away from our vicinity. In my refusal, in my resistance, there was a brand of courage, a type of rebellion. I realized that my very existence might serve as a quiet protest against their norms, rules, and puppet strings. And as I continued to sip my whiskey, perhaps, in this absurd theater of life, my role wasn''t to join the mindless dance but to disrupt it with my defiant stillness. Throwing rocks at the audience, dancers, and choreographers alike. The chorus of voices around me continued a symphony of irrelevance that I barely registered. The donkey and the monkey, as I had come to regard them, spouted their usual trifles. Words that, to them, held profound significance but, to me, were nothing more than static noise. My eyes drifted to my watch. Midnight. The witching hour. A moment suspended in the heart of darkness, a gateway between the end of one life and the dawn of another ¡ª a thematic howl in the ever-taunted night. I was, caught in the copper''s embrace, a spectator in the theater of absurdity, no longer an audience nor a performer ¡ª bearing witness to the paradoxes and beauty that define our shared existence. Today, I won''t look. Today, I will stop dancing. Today I will fucking spit ¡ª throwing rocks at the dance of the absurd. "Donkey, monkey. Make jokes about my Fianc¨¦ again, and I will have you fired. No, I will have your throat slit. I will burn your house ¡ª your car to the ground, then I will piss on your fucking corpses while drinking tea." "What is it about this merger?" the monkey asked as I left the jungle. I met more patrons into the night, an erratic stream of pleasure-seekers. They swirled in and out of the neon-lit doors, a cascade of pulsing energy, laughter, and raucous shouts bouncing off the alley''s walls. The grimy buildings surrounding the club seemed to sway slightly in the lurid glow, drenched in a mix of sweat, liquor, and fading dreams. Their shadows danced with the rhythm of the ephemeral nightlife, the darkened corners of the city witnessing the human spectacle in all its nude rawness. Retreating from the revelry, I found refuge in my car, parked inconspicuously behind the club. The lot was a carousel of vehicles, their engines purring softly in the moonlit silence. Most were stationary. Some were moving, cradling ¡ª their fogged-up windows concealing amorous engagements, their faint rocking rhythm of ah-ah-ah. Ignoring the hedonistic bliss enveloping the area, I navigated toward my trusty old companion. She was far from glamorous, a relic of the past amidst a sea of modern glitz. Her exterior was a palette of faded colors, the skin peeling off in patches revealing the bronze beneath. A testament to the relentless march of time ¡ª a silent protest against the ostentatious display of opulence. A proud soldier, accompanying me for nearly a decade, bearing her battle scars with dignity. She was half ghastly, half hypnotizing. Defiance was her name. I opened the door and slid into the worn-out seats, instantly engulfed in a familiar scent. The sweet, artificially tangy smell of Walmart air fresheners, a scent that brought comfort in its sheer simplicity. It was cheap, yet there was something incredibly soothing about it. A caress of nostalgia and modesty. I reclined in the embrace of Defiance, the faint scent of the air freshener filling my lungs. The comforting hum of the old engine reverberated through me, adding to the symphony of the night. Cradling the copper ring in my hands, I was drawn back into the impulsive swirl of recent events. Valerie. A stranger, yet not quite so. She had accepted my proposal earlier this morning with an ease that was almost absurd. We were unacquainted, two individuals thrown together by the sheer randomness of life. Yet, she had taken the leap, diving headlong into the unknown. Could it have been her scientific curiosity? There was a chance she had an inkling of intrigue over my psyche. Is that it? The clinical coldness of a psychologist studying a subject up close? But such a prospect raised troubling questions about the ethical boundaries she was willing to cross. Or maybe Old Brain was right. Perhaps she harbored a soul that reveled in the macabre, the shadows, the mysterious. Regardless of her motivations, I shrugged. What could be the worst outcome? Death? It''s but a natural part of life. If she were to kill me, I''d die. If not, I would live. The cliched adage echoed in my mind: Was mich nicht umbringt macht mich st?rker. Either way, it seemed like a victory. As enigmatic as she may be, I made a vow to myself. I would savor every second of this unpredictable waltz with her, bask in the beautiful jungle of existence. As the world outside continued its frenzied dance, I found peace within the confines of my rusty sanctuary, cherishing the absurdity and simplicity of the moment. I grasped my phone, crafting a message for V. "Dear Valerie, Lost in the labyrinth, drifting through the fog, a phantom beat of absent joy, in the shadowed corners, twisted waltz, a tempestuous storm, scalpel-sharp dissecting my veneer of hope and dread. A peculiar warmth unfurls, a stirring tenderness, tender and surreal. Perversion, a seductive aria that resounds through the hollow chambers of my heart. A tango of despair and longing, in rhythm with madness, in echoes chaos, in burgeoning sentiment, once a seed of dread, blooms into a twisted rose of desire, in the garden of shared psychosis." I emailed V as my phone screamed, "RING!" I looked at my screen; it was another unregistered number. Yet, I had an idea of who it might be. The best of the best, the cream of the crop, my closest kin, my closest love. "What''s up, Austin? I was resting." "Heyo! Bro, bro! First, I miss you! Why don''t you ever visit my office anymore?!" "Your office is a mess; it''s disgusting. Neon lights in daylight? Seriously. And there are too many adolescents on rollerblades. Isn''t that dangerous?" "Bro," Austin replied. "Despite being younger than me, you''re the old man. But wait, listen to this. You won''t believe it!" "Why? Did the realtor cancel the apartment purchase? I thought our guy had the deal sealed?" "No! And you paid cash, you idiot! Are you in your car again? Your secretary told me you left early. I told you to throw that garbage away." "I won''t. What is it, Austin?" "Bro! This is fucking big. I ran a background check for Valerie Hyeon." "Okay? Then what?" I asked. "You married a fucking psychopath."