Bedtime Story

Pssst ... wanna hear a story? Are you one of those, and I mean 'those' to be 'human', that like to hear about the travails of others?

If so, let me regale you with a tale that will cause you to embrace your life's insanity as being nothing more than a cosmic game of 'Jeopardy' in which you don't know any of the questions.

The story begins with a man's quest to stand taller than his 5'7" frame and ends with a friend's declaration of fear. ... just so you know, the subject of the story closely resembles me... duh.

As it so happened, this man had somewhere aquired a sheathed bootknife during a particularly lengthy manic episode. Being that bootknives irritated his ankles and really didn't allow this man to feel in control of any perceived confrontation, he decided to carry the three-inch blade in the inner pocket of his leather jacket. No big deal ... except that hubris, tempered steel, mania and Grey Goose vodka are not compatible.

By the way, this man learned a valuable lesson this night ... a plate of cheese fries sitting on a bar being shared by seemingly everyone nearby doesn't necessarily mean that you are entitled to partake in cheese fry goodness. And if, by chance, those cheese fries belong to a group of Marines in civilian clothing .. well, you know where I'm headed with this ...

It was not long after this Cheese Fry encroachment and this man's mania-fueled, Goose-inspired decision to reach for a dull bootknife that this man was described as having a deathwish.

That man has since moved past cheese fries and carrying bootknives. Somehow, he avoided being dismantled that night. I like to believe that charm and humor swayed the keepers of the cheese fries. What sticks with me now is that the man with the deathwish really hasn't changed.

Take a trip to the Dark Side and all fear evaporates. Well, at least for one man who had a 'deathwish'. More of an awakening, I believe.

The story ends without a single physical incident but resounds in memory as a victory of sorts. The bootknife was never unsheathed. Somewhere, somehow, the crazy in the marines connected with the crazy in the man in question and the Universe aligned itself for the greater good.

The idea that the man has a deathwish only caused the man to further explore his limits. What happens after that is an Iliad epic worthy of publication.

The man still has the bootknife as a reminder of craziness personified. The bar in question has since closed. The Marines are hopefully alive and well and can still share a chuckle over the short fucker who stole a cheese fry and proclaimed dominance due to self-perceived macho that a three-inch bootknife provided.

Yet, the deathwish remains. It's in this man and it's in everyone. A deathwish is a necessity, ya dig? Without a deathwish you have no drive to take risks. Granted, risking death by stabbing is a bit extreme. But, as I see it, a life dedicated to simply existing without risk is a far more deadly deathwish.

I'm pretty sure that the man with the deathwish is still alive and kickin' ... Oddly enough, what he wished to die did  die and provided a bit of manure that fertilized new life that emerged from dirt.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The end.