The Ways of a Righteous Dude (Part Seven) TBC

A Story by Paris Hlad

But even for guys like me, hell isn't all perfect or anything. One of the things I don't like about the Worm is that he can mess with my head in a way that makes me wonder if we're really on the same page. Every so often, when Worm-Boy chases me around and s**t, I find myself totally lost in this very weird area they call the Empty Place. I mean there's nothing but fumes and these eerie-looking vapors that swirl around all over. The next thing I know, Worm-Boy disappears and I'm left there by myself for like this ridiculously long period of time.^{^[1]} It scares the crap out of me; so, I start screaming for help or whatnot, trying to figure out what to do; but eventually, I just hear Worm-Boy laughing his a*s off and telling me that it's time for him to “do his business.” It's as if the son-of-a-b***h is Grandma Herself, like maybe I’ve been betrayed and he’s about to drop something on me that I don’t know yet. It really messes with my head; and like I mentioned, it makes me wonder if me and the Worm are seeing things eye-to-eye. I mean, what do I really know about Worm-Boy? Every time the crazy b*****d chases me, he leaves me alone in the Empty Place a little longer than the time before. Who knows? Maybe Worm-Boy’s got some crazy deal with the Gardener about me, and then maybe I get hurt out of nowhere. I don't like that too much, and it makes me think that maybe the Worm might have to get a surprise like that before I do. Anyway, for now, I like the way things are, but things change, and it’s always better not to trust anyone too much, especially a lowlife like Worm-Boy.

There’s even a bigger thing I don’t love about hell. I’m a little reluctant to bring it up though, since Worm-Boy is thin-skinned about certain topics. But I say, he can blow it out his scaly butt-hole because it's something that really rubs me the wrong way and could potentially ruin everything. You know how everyone's led to believe that a worm-maker is all business or whatnot, that nothing's personal or whatever? Well, that's true in certain business situations, but everything else we do is just about as personal as a thing can get; and that goes double for the things we do to ourselves. In fact, I would go as far as to say that it's the things we do to ourselves that make the things we do to others that much more personal. I mean, when you really think of it, just about everything that anyone does is personal in some crazy way.

-P-

The Problem with Just-as-Goods

But here's the catch: When a lowlife finally makes it to hell, he has no genuinely satisfying outlet to express his hatred, because pretty much everyone who could piss him off isn’t around. For example, if the Daffodils were here, I would happily whack them �" Also, that stupid rose who dropped the dime on me and that crazy Myrina just for being a b***h. There's absolutely no question in my mind about that. But they're not here, so really, what can I do to even the score? Not a thing. I mean, yes, I can do all the things I already mentioned that I do, and I can even pretend I'm doing those things to the dopes I hate, but I'm not doing them to the dopes I hate, but only to some dopes I don't hate. I mean, it has its upside, but it's not the same turn-on; and, over time, it can grate on a guy like me. Say, for example, I rob, maybe pistol whip, or even whack some sweetie-pie down here. Well, sometimes I can feel cheated because the sweetie-pie I take down really isn’t a sweetie-pie but more like a doll or stupid puppet who doesn’t give a s**t what I do to him. Worm-Boy calls them just-as-goods and laughed his a*s off when I shared my thoughts on the subject. He just kind of looked away from me, took a toke from his stupid joint, and said, "You don't know s**t, Bobby, so why think about it?" I mean, I couldn’t believe the horned little dick had the stones to blow me off right to my face like he had no respect for me at all and didn’t care if I knew it either.

Naturally, that stuck in my mind quite a bit - because really, who does he think he is? The only big thing he ever did was to cajole some ancient babe into biting his rotten apple �" And that was like a million years ago! I mean, the a*****e tried to whack the Gardener once and ended up face down in the dirt, dreaming of revenge - So, who is he to tell me I don't know s**t? Maybe it’s Worm-Boy who doesn't know s**t. And what he said to me was way too personal to ignore because he's here, and he's real, just like me, and maybe he has some hidden ax to grind that I don't know about. But here’s the problem: If things do hit the fan between us, we’re both screwed because neither of us can whack the other guy but only ourselves.

In other words, the only way the devil can be whacked is if he whacks himself, and the only way that can happen is if guys like me whack ourselves, - You know, write pleas, and s**t. That way, he wouldn't have guys to dick around with on a personal basis but only his s**t-faced just-as-goods who aren't really something he can hate, but only something he invented to frustrate lowlifes like me. Maybe grandma’s a clever old b***h. It’s a gigantic irony, though, and sort of humorous, too! I mean, go figure, without guys like me, Worm-Boy goes mental, maybe gets chased by his just-as-goods into the Empty Place, screaming for help like a baby and not getting any; maybe even writing his own dumb-a*s plea, which could be what hell is all about anyway. Maybe the next time I see him, I'll mention it to him. I mean, what's he going to do, kill me? Take a toke from his stupid joint? Nothing, that’s what!

[1] Personal relationships among worm-makers regularly end in betrayal, sometimes mutual betrayal. They are modified criminal alliances, which dissolve when the deed is done.