The Pursuit of Evil (2)

Today I embrace my envy of Little Lucy.

Envy

Just as a hypoallergenic cat is free of allergens, I’m entirely devoid of feelings of envy. With the exception of successful people, smart people, talented people, and beautiful people, I think it’s fair to say that I’m pretty morally pristine on that front. I think other people are usually the ones who are envious of me. I mean, when I wash my hair I have hair so lush I can sense people’s envy even when I’m wearing a hat. For this reason I haven’t washed it in a while because not doing so seemed to me the socially responsible thing to do. But this sort of concern for others is a thing of the past. The new evil me is going to wash her hair once a lunar cycle at least.   

 

To be honest I’m so rarely envious -- I think the last time was an hour ago -- that I really had to wrack my brains to find something or someone on which to focus my envy. My sister is so untalented I think her biggest life achievement is biting her nails. My brother isn’t much better. He likes fixing things but I don’t think he can be very smart if he doesn’t realize that in this day and age when something is broken all you have to do is call a technician. And my parents? I guess I’m envious that they brought into this world someone as gifted as me. This morning I was tearing open drawers and cupboards in search of snacks when I found a poem I wrote as a 7-year-old. I’ll go out on a limb and say it deserves the Pulitzer Prize, but then again few people can truly appreciate greatness. Maybe the world is not yet ready for this:

 

An Ode to Carrot Cake

 

I actually didn’t get past the title. But I guess it’s the economy of the poem that makes it so powerful. The possibilities for interpretation are endless. 

 

Now I think I know what fills me with envy so intense I get hot flashes. I am jealous of Little Lucy. The way she wobbles across the floor and smiles her big fat smile makes me sick to my stomach. Lucy is my uncle’s baby daughter. She is 9 months old and takes pleasure in provoking me without pause. She will hold up her hand and stare into my eyes as if to say, “I have soft skin and a smile so sweet it makes adult men cry.” She is the smuggest person I’ve ever met. It takes a lot of doing not to take away her pacifier there and then.

 

The envy is pulsing through my veins and I will say it isn’t the greatest feeling. I thought Day 2 of being evil would bear more rewards than this. If I could turn into a toddler I would, but science just isn’t advanced enough yet. It feels like a lot of effort I could instead focus on sleeping off all the stress of getting up each morning.

 

To be continued…“Wrath” - the third deadly sin - up next! ;)