Gallow Humor

I always see people talk about the good times of the past and wallow in nostalgia, cowering in front of their beer in shitty dive bars.

Those who like to think they’re positive and ambitious always talk about how good times are imminent, sitting tall in front of their “latte macchiato” in shitty yuppie cafés.

The fact “life sucks right now” being the consensus.

I was shat out, probably dropped on my head and then I got spanked on the ass so I wouldn’t suffocate.

Age one, I spent my time shitting my pants and crying.

Age two, I learned to walk so I could get hurt more while still shitting my pants.

Age three, I got teeth and I bet it hurt like a motherfucker.

Age four, I was in kindergarten getting my first beatings.

Age five, I discovered embarrassment, inaugurating a whole new world of affliction.

Age six, I started school and people started rating me for my efforts or lack thereof.

Age seven, I drove my bike against a wall and learned that others were better football players.

Age eight, I saw a man drown and die, making me think about death realizing it’s all bound to go down.

Age nine, I got hit by a car and had a bad haircut.

Age ten, I thought I fell in love. More problems.

Age eleven, no one in school liked me and I hated everyone back.

Age twelve, I didn’t get anything for Christmas.

Age thirteen, some asshole spat on my head and pulled a gun when I went after him.

Age fourteen, I threw up blood and passed out in an alley in front of a house whose inhabitants wouldn’t let me attend their party.

Age fifteen, some punk pissed in a beer bottle and made me drink it.

Age sixteen, a crazy girlfriend fucked me over and stuck a syringe in my knee.

Aged seventeen, my best friend stole all my money and took my stash.

Age eighteen, I got a horrible rash and almost died from drugs.

Age nineteen, I had the shittiest job ever which appeared to be just slightly worse than the best job ever.

Age twenty, I realized I’m a miserable fuck.

Age twentysomething, I stopped caring at all.

Sometime after that, I came to the conclusion that good times are fiction.

Even Baywatch went off the air.