Malice In Wonderbland

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Not in My Dreams

Luck, fortune and serendipity are all false gods. To pay them any attention is like spinning a coin to decide whether you will or will not be happy in life.

My granddad believed that I should be exposed to life’s realities as soon as I was able to comprehend his spittle covered wheezing wisdom. His childhood sweetheart turned long-term love, coarse rolling tobacco had dried his lungs and spirit, to absorb and repel the world without being seduced by ‘wet’ dreams that some immerse themselves in, for a life of benign kicks. Granddad Pat, told me very little but what he did tell me stayed with me because even passive smoked filled cynicism has a wholesome earthy taste that often rises in my mouth, especially when life’s toils have arrived like an intrusive guest.

The strangest insight my granddad ever offered to me and with fatal consequence was “I wish I had your mother’s will to kill. Without that you just end up sulking and watching with a mixture of envy and annoyance as others either play their dressing up games, or they happily kill”. And as his self-protective smoke screen cleared, he looked at me with concentrated indifference and added “You lad, I suspect you have ‘the kill’ in you. And if you do, show me the mercy that your mother’s spite would never entertain, and remove this Nasty Old Whiff, would ya?”. A playful wink and a phlegm loosening chuckle followed. Had he not winked he’d still be alive. And now, rightfully, in death I love him even more.

Had he not winked, had they not winked, they’d all still be alive. I have the will to kill and I feel very much alive. Lucky me. But as luck would have it, it had fuck-all to do with it, it is just the way it is – you wink, you’re dead. That’s just the way it has to be; without the futility of questions leading to the eternal despair of deciphering reason.