Mr Empty

By Hieronymous, 2015

In a humble house on the side of the Mozart Housing Unit, there lived a man. This man was seated in a comfy red chair, and do you know what he was doing? Vigurously maturbating of course! This was after all, the house of Mr Empty, the terminally depressed alcoholic of Apartment 13!

Today, Mr Empty had big plans. He was planning to order a pizza, drink some orange juice and overdose on Nyquil before falling into the sweet release of sleep’s oblivion.

But before he could do any of that though, he had to go to the hospital to see his dying mother. Mr Empty said: “God I hate life.”

He gathered up his coat and hat, and walked out the door. He saw the postman in his smart green uniform. “Hello Mr Empty!” said the postman, kindly.

“The past is a gaping hole. You try to run from it, but the more you run, the deeper, more terrible it grows behind you, its edges yawning at your heels. Your only chance is to turn around and face it. But it’s like looking down into the grave of your love, or kissing the mouth of a gun, a bullet trembling in its dark nest, ready to blow your head off.” said Mr Empty.

“Okay, then,” said the postman. “Have a nice day!”

Mr Empty took the Cheapside bus. The bus driver said: “Hello Mr Empty!” Mr Empty said:

“Why did you turn my world into a world of night, and make wrong into a new form of right? How could you make all the light disappear, and with it everyone I once loved so dear? Why are the shadows now the new sun, and why is everything lost what you have won?”

“That’ll be £2.50, Mr Empty” said the bus driver - “Have a nice day!”

Mr Empty paid the nice man and got on the bus. While he was travelling, a kindly old lady sat next to him. She looked over and said “Do you mind moving up a little young man?” Mr Empty said:

“I think human consciousness, is a tragic misstep in evolution. We became too self-aware, nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself, we are creatures that should not exist by natural law. We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self; an accretion of sensory, experience and feeling, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody, when in fact everybody is nobody. Maybe the honorable thing for our species to do is deny our programming, stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction, one last midnight - brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.”

“Very good!” said the old lady, smiling. “Have a nice day!”

Mr Empty got off the big red bus at Cheapside, and walked to the hospital. The sun was shining, and birds were singing. Mr Empty walked into the hospital, and do you know what he did? Why, Mr Empty was so preoccupied with the infinite vagaries of a hateful existence, he walked right on by the receptionist! Can you believe it?

The receptionist asked: “Excuse me Mr Empty - don’t you want to sign in?”

Mr Empty said in reply: "In eternity, where there is no time, nothing can grow. Nothing can become. Nothing changes. So death created time to grow the things that it would kill… and you are reborn but into the same life that you’ve always been born into. I mean, how many times have we had this conversation? Well, who knows? When you can’t remember your lives, you can’t change your lives, and that is the terrible and the secret fate of all life. You’re trapped… like a nightmare you keep waking up into. “

Mr Empty took the big metal lift up to the very top floor. He walked into his mother’s room and flicked on the light. Well, he simply couldn’t believe what he saw!

His mother was dead! Yes, the old woman was totally lifeless! In fact, it had been so long since anyone had checked on her, a festering sore on her forehead had burst, and Mr Empty could see cockroaches crawling around inside! Fancy that!

Well, it turned out the Mr Empty had wasted his £2.50 bus fare! What a shame!

So Mr Empty turned right around and headed all the way back home./p>

Mr Empty went all the way down the street, on the bus, through the estate and through the door of number 13, Mozart estate before blowing his head into a million pieces with a 12-gauge he had been keeping by the kitchen table for the last 6 months.

Silly Mr Empty!


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