Ecocide

People don't believe me when I state that I am an optimistic man of the people. I hope for nothing but the brightest in the future of humanity, and the greatest possible achievement of my infintesimal existence would be to share something -anything- with the bulk of mankind, if only for the sake of the children.

I'm a bit lazy, sure, but I make an effort to touch -and be touched by- the beautiful, the indigent, the neurotic, and the languid people of our fair planet. Thanks to the power of the Internet, I have such a power at my fingertips. Did I mention that I was lazy? Yeah, but when I said lazy, I meant aneretic. I hadn't intended to piss in your pudding, my dearest.


Just yesterday, Sparkles sat me down (and yes, I took a fucking seat) to discuss the situation with me. 'Listen, K, there are precisely twenty-seven readers of Psychedelic Kimchi,' he began, and while I thought his profusion of discharged spittle a bit less than gregarious, I felt it best to remain calm. 'We have a fine tradition to uphold,' he continued, 'hadn't I mentioned that? No, I guess I didn't, but it doesn't change the fact that you're in deep shit.'

'Deeper than the grave I dug for myself while financing Camino's Heaven's Gate?' I was certain that my statement would throw him off, but to be honest, I'm quite the twit.

'That ain't no thing but a chicken wing compared to this,' he quipped, and I -literally- shit my pants. It was all or nothing at this point, like Emilio in Maximum Overdrive.

'So, are we talking...Defcon 5, deep-as-idealjetsam's navel deep?' I inhaled, awaiting the icy grip of cold, Burlington-bred Death. He nodded solemnly, and extended a hand. At the risk of divulging too much, that load of shit crept back into my anal cavity; I was that frightened.

'Twinkie? You seriously need some sweet in your life.'

'No, man. I'm fine.' I appreciated the gesture, like an inmate appreciates his last meal before his execution, but my appetite had been devoured. He kept prodding me to eat a twinkie, for about five minutes. We then shared four, and smoked a pack of Parliaments. To be fair, Sparkles had been correct about needing some sweetness, insomuch that it adequately prepared me for the bombshell that was to come.

Upon the completion of his last cigarette, Sparkles pressed a button on his belt buckle, and a large screen descended from the ceiling of wherever the hell we were. 'The chart speaks for itself,' he noted, smug in his authority, 'and you can see that you have, at best, three solid supporters.' I couldn't deny his logic, 'cause that's like denying that Denz has the market cornered on personalized brass knuckles (don't pretend you didn't see D-E-N-Z imprinted upon your girlfriend's backside*).

Fig. 1-1


'What the fuck is that!', I shouted, fueled by an abundance of Hostess treats and unable to restrain my emotions any further. 'You were telling me that you hadn't any time to complete Marvel Ultimate Alliance, and here you are, making up some fancy Power Point Pie Chart bullshit.' Sparkles held up a dainty hand, in order to stop my petulant behavior.

'Listen. Like I said, the beefaroni people may be on your side, but -and may I add that I am one of those people- that doesn't mean you can slack off whenever you like, masturbating to old reruns of Wonder Woman. Shape up.' I began to protest, but again, I was cut off. 'Sorry, but I have a date with a can of CheezUms, compliments of my mother, so I've no time to talk. Get your act together, and you can join me in the Procter & Gamble Psychedelic Kimchi Lounge.

I was left, defeated and defunct. Almost.

'Yeah, well, the Rescue from Cloud City/Hyperspace theme alone is better than a New Hope in its entirety', I shouted back, and from a distance, I heard a whisper of begrudging acquiescence.

Time will tell, and all that.
------

Hati


P.S. I make no promises, except that I'll continue to masturbate on a regular basis.


* The 'D' stands for Donkey Punch, bitches.