Slaying the Leviathan and Leaving the Depths of Hades VII

Exercises in conversational dialogue

“Better spirits since that last unit of time?”

“My spirit is mighty. These units of time are another kettle of fish altogether.”

“Lacking?”

“Couldn’t name but one former skater. Gretzky, right. More of an ol’ Norris Division fan, myself. The Kings were always irrelevant, not a rival, and thus no animosity, no bad blood. Now that I think on it, I could be a Kings fan. Y’know, just to piss people off.”

“I said ‘lacking,’ not LA Kings. Without some help in that roster, same game, huh? And why would folk be pissed at Kings fans?”

“There’s this thread of self-appointed hockey purist that rags on any team from a locale where at no time during the year can hockey be played outside.”

“You don’t subscribe?”

“I’m not saying I NEVER teased a Coyotes fan, though no. Plus, then there’s Florida hockey. And Florida, for winter sports purposes, is just the 6th borough of New York, yeah?”

“I always thought of it more as New York’s hospice.”

“Where New Yorkers go to die? Morbid much?”

“Morbid, yet true. How they treating you, though?”

“Beside the dog treats I give to the occasional pooch, I’ve not experienced such.”

“We just did the LA Kings. Might we skip this tangent?”

“We ought. Anyhoo, as we spoke of in prior units of time, much of the most targeted abuse had ebbed. They still seem to fight each other, though I’m not bombarded with ordinance in the crossfire of no-man’s land…as much.”

“Who fights?”

“All of them. Perhaps not the Quakers, though might in their own way.”

“Do you know who’s fighting each other during a given, er…battle?”

“Tough to say. Sometimes the fights are fake, like everything else. Like the ‘horse races,’ choreographed battles so that they might push you back and forth. Super cruel and annoying manipulation.”

“Are any of these actually opposing each other, or just a ruse?”

“Oh, I think most of these…skirmishes? Not sure how to label these, yet there do seem to be groups that are actually fighting each other.”

“What are the groups that are identifiable?”

“I think old people hate children and children hate old people. That’s the one that appears most clear, yet also doesn’t make sense in some respects.

“Which do you hate the most?”

“I don’t have the energy to hate. Fuck’em both, though.”

“Really, there’s not one that’s preferable to the other?”

“Like all cohorts, er…most cohorts, they both have some utility, and they both annoy. You can be annoyed with the kids and not want them around sometimes, though you can’t really hate them. They’re fucking kids. Damn, do they fuck your shit up sometimes. They try, though. Since these are kids, they’re not so good at doing anything without help. Then there’s the oldies. They’ve got resources and skills to provide what you might seek. Getting them to produce is like pulling fucking teeth.”

“I smell a dentures gag coming.”

“You did it for me. So, yeah, the old-timers, along with some of the same host of trickery nearly all groups use, will poison you beyond just diarrhea. In real life, when every interaction is not with a bot or ‘character’ in this foul play, older grey-haireds are cool. And they’ll do stuff. They’re not all infirmed.”

“They’re all broken down here?”

“Not that I see. They might not all be infirmed. Perhaps they just want everyone else to be broken. In this hellscape world there’s this gray team or team old people — they might be two different caucus’s — that you have to avoid when you don’t really need them for something important, so to not be poisoned with muscle degeneration and other substances that make one weak, sore, foggy brained, or just slow. Then, they combine groups, yeah, so that you might even see ‘this represents where I can get funds or financial support,’ yet if tied to cruel poison that makes you ache and not be able to walk or accomplish tasks, gotta call that deal off. Ain’t worth fuck all. Plus, most often the physical, emotional, and psychological pain is real, yet the financial gain rarely materializes.”

“That’s the gray’s whole play book? Why bother?”

“That’s not their whole playbook. That’s just some aspect that if you can’t surgically remove the poison part, you’re just better off not being with them at all. I think this is insignificant or doesn’t have to be pervasive, yet haven’t figured how to get the good from the grays/oldies without the poison. I think their core principle is, as Alan Two-dick’s character in Resident Alien says, they have an ass fetish.”

“Whoa, er….let’s come back to the ass fetish….”

“Must we?”

“I have questions. Before that, I’ll ask: Just hang with the kids and completely avoid the olds/grays?”

“Good lord, no. That’d be super rough. Plus, the olds/grays might be…I think are two different teams with much congruence among the make-up. Might be, though I don’t understand anything.”

“If not the young’ins, and not the oldies/grays, what then?”

“Not never either. Plus, this is a single example. They’re never the only actors, and there must be interplay between other outfits. There’s cops and jailbirds. Poor people and wealthy people. Introverts and extroverts. Two sides of any coin one might imagine. Knowing which is what and how to avoid their volleys of hate while pocketing some associated benefit has proved a challenge.”

“So this isn’t all between the old and young?”

“No. No. Not at all. I don’t even think the oldies/grays vs. the wee ones is much of this world. Knowing these two groups is just easier. There’s a fat/thin fight. There’s blue collar vs. white collar. Gas/electric. City against country….”

“Then everyone one hates the suburbs, probably even the suburbanites?”

“In a just world.”

“Where do you come down on Stones vs. Beatles?”

“Down? I’ll go down on stones. I don’t believe in beatles, I just believe in me.”

“Sympathy for the devil, eh?”

“There’s something in the way.”

“Brown sugar?”

“Or the whole damn white album.”

“Can’t get no…”

“Are we really doing this?”

“I thought the distraction might be some aid.”

“Traction hasn’t much helped, so maybe? Though the same might be said of the converse.”

“When you’re through beating the duality of meanies, let’s look at these outfits and how they’re aligned.”

“Did you say beating duality of meanies?”

“I did.”

“I think you’re better at this than I am.”

“Who isn’t?”

“Touche.”

“The cohorts, these outfits: there might be answers here, yeah?”

“Sure, though that’s like saying ‘if there are answers in the world, they are probably in the world.’”

“Gotta start somewhere, and if you start me up…”

“I thought we were through with that.”

“I couldn’t help myself.”

“Then how are you gonna help me?”

“I thought you were helping me?”

“Then we’re both fucked.”

“I’ve exhausted my well of optimism. Pick this up in the next unit of time?”

“You had a well of optimism? What, you keep that with your stable of unicorns in a tack room with the magic pixie dust and juice of rendered rainbows?”

“Not the same.”

“Yeah, unicorns might exist.”