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1
I should kill myself.
Things would be better if I did.
For me anyway.
I don't know how it would affect global warming or penguins in Antarctica.
But it might help me.
I'm laying on the floor in my living room.
Curled up in the fetal position.
In the fetal position nothing can hurt me.
I'm safe.
Today is my day off.
I don't know what to do with myself. Time will pass and another dreary day will come.
My sister Sasha is on the computer playing solitaire.
She looks dissatisfied.
She takes care of me.
No one else will.
Everyone wants me to die and go to hell and be burned for eternity.
I'm not even sure why.
This is so horrible.
Sasha says, "Vasily, what the fuck are you doing?"
"I'm hiding."
"From what?"
"That's none of your business."
"Have you heard?"
"Heard what, that God is dead and we are alone."
"Somebody named Cho shot a bunch of people."
"Who the hell is Cho?"
"Cho is like the new superstar murderer."
"How many did he kill?"
"32."
"That's not nearly enough to make a difference," I said.
"It says he made videos."
"What videos, YouTube?"
"I don't know. Something like he made videos and rambled about how everyone hated him and shit."
"I don't need this."
Sasha gets up and goes in the kitchen. I don't know why she went in there. She seems to be doing something involving the refrigerator. I hear something pouring. I wonder if she is going to get a gun and kill me. She should. Killing me would be a good idea for her, it would save her money. I make only $7.00 an hour dishwashing at a steak house. She has to feed me most days. I can't afford to live on this planet and eat. I'm an atrocity to manhood.
Sasha comes back, "Seriously, what is wrong? You've been laying on the floor for over an hour."
"I got a letter."
"What did it say?"
I pull the letter out of my pocket and hand it to her.
"Holy shit Vasily, it says you owe the student loan people $10,000 and you have to make it in one installment because you neglected to pay any installments at all."
"Yes, I know what it fucking says."
"That's bad."
"My life is over. I am condemned to a life of misery. I will never succeed; count me out of the game of life. I should kill myself."
"Don't say that, it reminds me of Lizaveta."
"Lizaveta is dead."
"I know Lizaveta is dead."
"She has chosen to be no more."
"You need to shut the fuck up," Sasha said.
Lizaveta is our sister. Or was our sister. Lizaveta killed herself. She has been dead for a good while. I miss her sometimes.
"Let's not talk about Lizaveta," Sasha said.
"That sounds good."
"So what are you going to do about this bill?"
"I suppose I'll wait it out."
"How are you going to wait it out?"
"I don't fucking know, die."
"Die?"
"Yes, I'll fucking die and then I'll have no more $10,000 bill to pay back in one giant installment."
"That's not a good plan."
"You got a better one?"
"No, I can't think of anything."
"See, I'm fucked, I'm condemned, I'm ruined, my life on this planet is ruined."
"You're being dramatic."
"I can't be a doctor or a lawyer or president with a bill like that."
"No, that would be impossible."
"See, impossible. My life is caged in. There is no escape. I'm going to die poor, alone and naked."
"And naked?"
"Yes, fucking naked!"
"Maybe you could get a better job."
"A better job, doing what? I have no skills, I didn't finish college."
"That's true. You have no skills."
"I'll never get laid again."
2
I'm sitting with Chang in his bathroom. Chang is in the bathtub washing himself. He is scrubbing like he is trying to remove his skin.
We are not gay.
Chang washes himself constantly.
If you go to Chang's house you will most likely have to talk to him while he is the bathtub. Out of politeness he takes a bubble bath so you don't have to stare directly at his naked Chang penis. Even his parents have to endure this.
Chang looks at me says, "You know why I'm washing myself, right?"
Chang does this routine about once a week.
"Yes, I know."
"You know, when I was little. When I was coming over on the boat from China; they stuck my family and me down in a dark black hole to live in. We weren't allowed out and there was no bathroom. So everyone shit in the corner of the room. It was horrible. The stink of shit was horrible. All you could smell was shit for weeks."
"That sounds horrible Chang."
"Yes, it was terrible. But it became worse. My fucking brother Dong, that stupid asshole decides to, out of a joke, to throw me in the fucking shit!" Chang pauses for a second. A look of total anger comes over his face then he goes, "My fucking brother Dong throws me in the shit, then stood there laughing. Of course I was crying and screaming because I was five, and all he did was stand there laughing. Then my mother ran over in the darkness and beat the shit out of Dong; which kind of made me feel better about being covered in shit, but didn't, and never has.
"My mother picked me up out of the shit and carried me back over to our little corner of the hole we were traveling in. We could not spare any water so my mother took off my clothes and threw them in the shit, then began spitting on me so she could wipe the shit off. I was not only covered in shit, but then covered in spit. It was horrible, fucking horrible," Chang paused dramatically again and finished with, "I still smell the shit, I still do, that's why I take these baths, you know, because I still smell the shit."
"Chang, when my dad threw me over the Berlin Wall I got shot by a fucking Cossack. Getting shot is worse than getting shit on you."
"I would take the bullet any day, what do you know of being covered in shit?"
"I know my fucking leg hurt like a bitch," I said.
"It probably did hurt."
"No shit, it fucking did."
We sit there for a long time in silence.
We don't do anything.
Times passes.
We don't know what to say to each other. But we don't expect anything to be said.
We know our lives are boring.
Chang lives in a tiny bedroom living off of SSI checks for post-traumatic stress disorder.
I go to work and sit alone waiting to die.
Our lives do not amount to much.
We are not powerful men.
We are weak little men.
We are so weak, pitiful and catastrophic neither of us has any money in the bank.
We have no property.
People talk about getting what you want out of life, grabbing life by the balls, sucking the marrow out of bones, going for your dreams, living the life of your dreams, being successful, working hard playing hard, taking advantage of all that is The American dream.
The American Dream!
Chang and I have never done those things.
Our lives came, we got them, sadly we still have them, we endure them.
We have completely avoided the American Dream.
The American Dream requires a lot of ambition.
Between Chang and I, there probably isn't an ounce of ambition.
I'm not even sure how one gets ambition, one probably has to have a sense of entitlement or something.
Chang and I just don't feel entitled.
Our parents felt entitled, that's why they came to America.
Maybe we are dirty commies.
"Chang, are we dirty commies?"
"I'm in a bathtub and I don't have a job."
"You're right."
"You wash dishes."
"I know."
"Is there anything to live for?"
"I'm not sure. We never get laid."
"No we don't."
"We suck."
"Nobody wants to fuck us," said Chang.
"You would think after a year of not getting laid your balls would explode and you would die, but you don't. You keep going on, not getting laid."
"There is global warming and two wars, and we are sitting around talking about not getting laid."
"I'm sure the soldiers in Iraq are thinking about their balls too," I said.
"Balls."
"Balls."
"You're right," said Chang.
"I know, we're in our twenties. And we can't get laid. Girls even tell us we're attractive. And we still can't get laid."
"They know about us."
"What about us?"
"They know we're weird."
"They know we don't pine," I said.
"I can't pine, I must bathe. That smell of shit never goes away. Maybe girls don't like me because I smell like shit."
"Chang, you don't smell like shit!"
"I know what I smell like."
"Chang, I'm not talking about this with you. You are always talking about how you smell like shit. You've been going to a doctor, are on heavy medication, been to the mental ward over ten times, and are on SSI all because you think you smell like shit. Obviously I can't help you if no one else could."
"I don't want you to help me; I want you to tell me I don't smell like shit."
"Then you're playing."
"I don't know, do I smell like shit?"
"Let's not talk about not getting laid anymore, it depresses me."
"Yes, that is a sad subject."
"Have I told you about my $10,000 bill?"
"No."
"Well, the student loan people sent me a letter saying that since I didn't pay any of the payments, and now I owe them one installment of $10,000."
"That's wild."
"Yeah, no fucking shit."
"I don't understand, if you couldn't pay the $30 a month. How do they expect you to pay $10,000 in one installment?"
"I don't fucking know."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
"You should write a proposal to a video game company."
"Do what?"
"You like video games?"
"Yeah, so what?"
"Well, make up a plot for a game and send it to the companies. And they will give you money and probably let you work with them."
"That sounds like a lot of work."
"I don't have any other ideas."
"That's it. Write a video game."
"Yeah."
"About what?"
"I don't know, I'm not the one that owes $10,000."
"You're saying I have to do this myself. This requires some kind of drive, some kind of like motivation."
"You like being in a shithole?"
"No."
"Isn't that motivation?"
"I don't know, I've gotten used to being in a shithole."
"You like living in a shithole?"
"Don't you?"
"Yeah, kind of."
"I should just die," I said.
"No."
"No?"
"If you die, who will sit with me?"
"I don't know, your mom?"
"My mother spit on me to clean off the shit."
"I'm not very good at doing things that matter."
"The water is getting cold, I'm getting out."
That is the sign for me to leave the bathroom.
I don't know what to do.
It just seems like the world is heavy. That it is like a big cement monster that is crushing me, that is pummeling me with scorpion claws, stinging me, biting me alive, throwing bricks at my head, slamming cinder blocks on my nuts, eating me, showing me that I am worthless, that my life on this planet is a futile little pile of meat that ends in immobility, death, then sent underground with a shitty tombstone that doesn't signify who I was, what I was about. It just states my name, year of birth and day of death. I don't feel lucky at all to be alive.
3
I'm standing in the dish-tank at work.
The dish-tank is my hole.
There is a giant dishwasher next to me. It is made of metal and makes a lot of noise when dishes are run through it.
The dish-tank area smells like garbage. At night I throw bleach everywhere to try to get some of the smell to go away. But it never does, it always stinks like hell. It makes me stink like hell too.
I'm standing at the dish-tank. Gina brings dishes to it, drops the dishes, and goes back to serving tables.
I look at Gina walk away.
I think, "Gina."
Gina has expensive pants and shoes on. She is flashy. She comes from a world where being flashy is appropriate.
I'm a Russian immigrant working as a dishwasher.
I still think she is cute.
She is half Greek and half Irish. She has pretty Greek hair with freckles on her cheeks. I think she is beautiful.
I've had a crush on her since the first day I met her. We got hired together. The manager sat the new hires at a table and I was sitting next to Gina.
I was nervous sitting next to Gina.
I couldn't speak.
I hadn't worked in over a month. I put out fifty applications and no one would hire me. My life at that moment was not going well. I was a pizza boy before but my car broke than I was unemployed. I applied at many places to be things that paid more and required less work. But my life sucks and I could not get any of those jobs. So I applied to the steak house as a last resort and became a dishwasher.
I remember sitting next to Gina. She was no more than a foot away from me. I was staring at that pretty face I'm sure with a look of terror on my face and she said, "What did you do last night?"
I like a retard replied, "I read a book."
I'm not good with people. I should have said that I went out and had lots of fun, with lots of friends, I'm cool and all kinds of shit like that.
Instead I said, "I read a book."
She knew I was a nerd then, not only a nerd, but a poor nerd; not a good combination when trying to get pussy. No woman in their right mind would date a poor nerd.
I hated myself so much at that moment. I kept thinking that something was wrong with me, that I was like a plague, inept, faulty, defective, that I needed to murder myself in cold blood.
I'm not good with people.
Gina didn't direct anymore questions at me after that, and I didn't direct any to her. I kept silent during the training process.
That is the story of my life.
I always keep silent.
I like Gina though.
She is really cool.
She is always really nervous and high-strung, pissed off, and says things like, "I hate people."
Gina always has this look of terror mixed with hate on her face, I find that very attractive.
I'm afraid though.
I always think after I say something that it is wrong, that somehow I have fucked up, that the person will hate me.
I'm always convinced that people hate me; it makes for an uncomfortable existence.
And now five months later I'm still standing in the dish-tank pining over Gina.
I should win an award for self-destruction, self-mutilation, and self-loathing.
The award will be presented by Tom Cruise. There will be an audience of several million. Tom Cruise will say, "And now the award for the most self-loathing human alive, goes to Vasily Krymov."
I will walk up on the stage.
The crowd will roar with applause.
Tom Cruise will hand me the award.
I will give my thank you speech, "I would like to thank my father and mother for always showing me that they hated me since I was born. I would like to thank that Cossack for shooting me when I was six, and thank God for forsaking me."
I don't believe in God, but it is always important to thank God in those types of speeches.
Tom Cruise will stand behind me chuckling to himself and he will say under his breath, "Fucking loser."
I will hear him say, "Fucking loser." And think of it as positive reinforcement that I am fucking worthless and should be shot for crimes against those who have ambition and a desire for the Good Life.
Gina walks by and says, "Hey Vasily, want to help me make these salads."
I stand there like an idiot and say, "Yes Gina."
I follow Gina to the cooler where the salad mix is located.
We stand there alone.
She throws the salad mix into the glass plates and I throw the cheese in.
Dishwashers aren't supposed to help servers make salads, but since it is Gina I do.
Gina knows this.
She is taking advantage of my crush.
I know this.
This is not said out loud.
I do not care that she is taking advantage of my crush, worst things have happened. I like being around her and she is letting me. She even invited me to be around her. And I like being alone with her, which is even better.
Gina says while throwing salad on the glass plates, "How old are you?"
I don't want to answer.
I'm old.
Not really.
She is 22 and I'm 26.
That is a big difference.
Maybe not, but in my head it is.
"I'm 26."
I hate myself for being 26.
She says, "Do you go to school?"
"No, I was in school though." I can't believe I said 'though', that was so fucking retarded. I'm trying to compensate for being a fuck up.
"You should go back."
I stand there in silence.
I don't know what to say to this.
I'm so afraid, weird and dysfunctional.
She doesn't know this.
She doesn't know me.
I never talk about myself.
That is my fault.
I go around saying things, but never saying anything about myself. I assume it is because I'm so boring and I know that and don't want anyone else to think I'm boring.
Gina is finished with the salads.
We leave the cooler and she goes back to serving tables and I go back to the dish-tank.
This is my life.
God, I hate myself.
4
Chang and I are sitting at the Waffle House.
It is around 2:30AM.
We are sitting at the counter reading in silence.
Time passes easily at the Waffle House.
It is a good place to sit when you can't sleep. You eat some food, read some, listen to truckers talk, and let the shit of the universe stay outside the Waffle House.
My favorite server at the Waffle House is Isabella. Isabella is a disaster of a human being. She grew up on the Eastside of Youngstown. Which is a small third-world-country located inside of America.
I have a small crush on Isabella. Not as prominent as the crush on Gina, but a crush none the less.
Isabella motions for me to go outside and smoke a cigarette with her; she looks emotional so I prepare myself to listen to emotional sentences of misery, hardship, and endless toil that will only end with the cessation of her beating heart.
We are standing outside.
The weather is nice.
There are stars and the moon shines at half crescent.
It is a good moon, a nice bright moon that shines on our bewildered faces, lighting up our wrinkles placed there by years of industrial suffering done in the name of possessing food.
"I left my boyfriend," Isabella says.
"You did?"
I say this trying to sound concerned, like I care. I don't care though; her boyfriend has nothing to do with me. I've met him once and he was overweight and had nothing interesting to say.
"Yeah, I did. I just couldn't take taking care of him anymore. It was starting to get on my nerves. He's starting to get fat from not working. And all the fucking time he says he's going to get a job and never does. All he does is play video games and smoke weed."
"That sucks."
"Yeah, I know. I've talked to everybody and everybody says I should leave him. I don't know though. I've been with him for years."
She has spoken to everybody; that is typical. People who tell everybody their problems get on my nerves. People view their breakups as theatrical musicals in this country. They need a fucking audience to do anything of any importance.
"Do you want to hang out then?"
"Yeah, that sounds good."
"I think we would go well together. We both are like free spirits and shit." That is such a load of bullshit. We wouldn't go well together. Isabella has to smoke pot and sniff a line to get out of the bed in the morning and I don't do drugs at all.
"Yeah, we should try it," Isabella said.
"When is your next day off?"
"Tomorrow."
"Mine is tomorrow too, we should hang out."
"All right, that's a date."
We go inside.
I'm very happy about this. I'm actually going to get near a female.
I sit down next to Chang.
Chang says, "What happened?"
"We have a date tomorrow."
"Are you sure about this?"
"Yeah, I don't know, why not?"
"Isabella is a junkie."
"I know. Junkies aren't reliable, except when it comes to their drugs."
"Correct."
"She might come."
"Listen, my friend, drink your coffee, your coffee can't hurt you."
"I'm so alone," I said.
"So am I."
"We're fucked."
"Yes."
"Somebody has to be nice to me someday."
Chang pauses for a second and looks deep into his mind trying desperately to find an incident in his mind when someone was nice to him and says, "Vasily, if she doesn't come over, we'll go to the bar and get drunk. How does that sound?"
I look down at my coffee, and say, "Okay."
5
I'm sitting alone after getting back from the Waffle House.
I can't sleep because of the coffee.
When I can't sleep I watch YouTube videos.
YouTube is better than television.
Television is self-murder.
The television tells you what sounds nice; YouTube tells you what sounds horrible.
I put the phrase, 'Peak Oil' into search.
A long list of movies appears, I click the first one.
The movie starts:
Thousands of dead bodies are strewn everywhere!
Starving children are murdering dogs with kitchen knives to eat!
Elderly women are sucking dick for saltines!
Thousands are in line to buy water!
Nuclear bombs explode vaporizing humanity!
The suburbs are ghost towns, their pools full of muck, their decks rotting!
Automobiles are rusted along the side of the road parked where they ran out of gas!
Poor suburban children are sitting around a fire wearing mittens!
White women cry in the streets!
Men are hitting each other with clubs!
Asthmatics are coughing to death in their living rooms!
Humans buried in mass graves!
Malaria is killing millions!
Starving families are chewing on bark for nutrition!
Wal-Mart is going bankrupt!
People are eating their pet hamsters!
The pyramid eye of the Illuminati hangs over all of it laughing hysterically!
Total carnage!
Rampant death!
Pestilence!
Evil forces lurk everywhere!
All of humanity dies and nothing is left but left but their garbage!
I like movies like that.
Peak Oil ones are good for that.
Now I write 'Global Warming' into search.
A good list pops up; I click on one I haven't seen before:
The movie comes on:
A tidal wave engulfs Manhatten!
Thousands of poets, novelists, painters, movie producers, actors, models, musicians, office workers, and Puerto Rican maids are engulfed in a tidal wave of water. You can hear the screams of dying painters and poets for miles!
Florida is consumed, the elderly and the beautiful are drown!
Polar Bear paws smack the water, and you see them drown!
Penguins are crying in agony!
An ice age begins!
Snow cloaks America!
Millions of dead bodies are covered in ice and snow, frozen solid!
There is no food!
People murder each other for KitKats!
It is so cold all the pipes freeze in America at the same exact second and they all break!
All the plumbers have frozen to death and no one is alive to fix the pipes!
The fingers of a small child are black with frost bite, an old man carrying a boy scout knife cuts him and eats him for what little nutrition he has to offer!
Women and children wearing mittens!
Humans have cut down all the trees for fire wood, creating deforestation, which creates mudslides!
Mudslides kill millions!
The pyramid eye of the Illuminati hangs over all of it laughing hysterically!
Total carnage!
Rampant death!
Pestilence!
Evil forces lurk everywhere!
All of humanity dies and nothing is left but left but their garbage!
Another good movie.
I write, '9-11 conspiracy' into search.
A lot of movies pop up.
I click one.
The movie begins:
He stands before the camera and says, "Your country has lied to you."
"You are fucking stupid. Is life a Jerry Bruckheimer film? Buildings don't fall from fire! Those fires couldn't make that steel melt! This is reality! In reality, in this universe that would have never happened! Don't let yourselves be tricked! You are smarter than this! There are no terrorists! There is Bush and his Bushies and The Illumnati and they are trying to take away your rights, your freedoms. And you are giving them up! You are selling your mind and soul to the highest bidder for what? You don't even know? You are Americans!"
The man is screaming this.
Then the man keeps screaming:
"YOU ARE LETTING IT FUCKING HAPPEN!"
"YOU ARE LETTING IT FUCKING HAPPEN!"
"YOU ARE LETTING IT FUCKING HAPPEN!"
"YOU ARE LETTING IT FUCKING HAPPEN!"
"YOU ARE LETTING IT FUCKING HAPPEN!"
"YOU ARE LETTING IT FUCKING HAPPEN!"
"YOU ARE LETTING IT FUCKING HAPPEN!"
This guy is serious.
"The government planned 9-11, carried it out, you can trust no one. I'm not talking about the government; because there is no government, there is the Illuminati. Secret organizations of Yale graduates that have been working together since the time of Christ to bleed humanity dry of individuality, happiness, and normal human compassion!"
I stop watching the YouTube videos, take a shit, and go to sleep.
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