Magical Nihilism

Magical Nihilism

by Joel Kopcial

I was depressed because I had yet to pass the barrier of three-dimensional reality (plus time). While walking down the street, minding my own business, a girl who looked like a vampire popped out from behind a bush and poked me with a syringe. She took off her wig of long black hair and laughed maniacally; her skin was extremely pale and head completely bald. This intrusion into my awareness was both unexpected and unappreciated.

“You fucking whore, why in the fuck did you do that?” I screamed. The vampiress continued to laugh, but did not answer my question. I considered kicking her in the face, but refrained. The possibility of various diseases swimming inside that syringe was a bit agitating, but for the most part, I was not alarmed. Fear of disease was a fear of the victims of the men of old. If I was to successfully move on to a higher dimension, I would first have to make my body unsusceptible to the diseases and sicknesses that ravaged this confusing planet.

“I did it because you’re an asshole,” the vampiress finally responded.

“Oh, that’s real nice. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“You are responsible for the death of my cousin.”

“Who the fuck is your cousin?”

“Her name was Marata.”

Marata. I scanned my brain for knowledge of this apparent suicidee, but found nothing. “Listen, I have no idea who in the fuck you are talking about.” The vampiress began to laugh and again poked me with her syringe. I was becoming angry. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to punch you in the face,” I proclaimed.

“I’ll shoot an air bubble into your vein and kill you on the spot,” she retorted. At this point I felt a slight physical attraction to the psychotic bitch. I decided to portray a friendlier demeanor.

“Listen, what is your name?”

“My name is Queen Margaret.”

“Queen Margaret, my name is Andre.” I kissed her hand. “Would you like to have tea with me in the park?”

“I don’t want to have tea with you. My cousin is dead because of you.”

“That’s old shit. Right now, it’s all about me and you.” I was now very aroused.

“Listen Andre, I was sent here to kill you, not to socialize at the park.”

“Who sent you?”

“Master Ogden sent me.”

“Ogden? He sounds like a real scumbag.” This comment made the queen very angry.

“Ogden is not a scumbag! Ogden will fuck you up. Ogden will kill you. Ogden knows secrets that you couldn’t begin to comprehend.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Ogden was there in the beginning…”

“Bitch please; Ogden is like a third degree Mason.”

“You might think you’re being cute by blasphemizing Master Ogden, but when he finds out, he will likely kill you.”

“Listen Margaret, we’re getting off to a bad start. Let’s go have that tea…we’ll sit by the water.”

“Well, I am supposed to be avenging Marata’s death, but tea does sound nice. I suppose I will go to the park with you, but take note that I will continue to poke you with my syringe.”

“Honestly, you need to stop doing that. I’m ready to put your head underwater for about five minutes; you won’t be poking anybody after that. You’ll be on to your next life, possibly even more fucked up than you are now. Imagine being even stupider than you already are; it’s a distinct possibility.” I closed my eyes. Margaret slapped me in the face.

“That fucking hurt. I’d bust a cap in your ass, but I don’t own any firearms.”

“Ogden can conjure guns out of thin air,” Margaret nagged.

“Fuck Ogden; I can do that shit too.” I put my hands into a magical position and tried to envision a 9mm into my objective reality. Though cringing and grunting, my willpower just couldn’t do it. Once again, Margaret laughed at me.

“You’re such a fag,” she said. I did feel like a fag. I walked away, my head hanging in shame.

The next day, I came across another moron. While walking through the forest, I met a man named Freddy. Freddy claimed to be on a mission, ordered from the ranking politicians of his homeplanet Nebusa, to warn me about the possibility of another world war. I told him I was aware of the possibility, but didn’t particularly care. I was wearing sunglasses and Freddy took this as a sign of apathy. He was probably correct.

I tried explaining, “There is nothing I can do about it; life is like that. All this is potentially sad, but I’m not going to waste any concern over it. I have enough fear of my own.”

Freddy was disappointed in my attitude. “Why are you being such a cunt? Do you not care about the fate of your planet?” I took his question into consideration.

“Not really.”

“Your attitude perplexes me. Earth is in danger and all you want to do is watch television and eat microwaved popcorn all day.”

“Hey, microwaved popcorn is good when that shit has butter on it,” I countered. Freddy said that I was a fucking idiot. Idiot or not, his mentioning of popcorn was making me hungry. I asked him if he could get me a cheeseburger.

“The last thing you need is a cheeseburger. All that greasy food is the reason your face is so full of pimples. Why don’t you go see a dermatologist about that shit?”

“I once had an appointment, but I didn’t go because my favorite infomercial was on.”

Freddy became genuinely pissed. “I was sent here to show you the dark secrets and train you to become Savior of Earth, but you are obviously the wrong choice. I’m through with your punk ass. You could have been a god Andre, a god!” With that, Freddy teleported himself somewhere, presumably back to Nebusa.

“Whatever,” I said to the thin air. Then I went home to watch television.

That night, I had a dream that was more than a dream; it was very vivid and real, lucid and out-of-body. I was bouncing up and down over the continental United States in a sort of white void, the void being both the geography and my identity. Inside this void, the concept of linear time was no more. Past, present, and future combined to form a very distinct entity. I liked this new way of looking at time; it made me feel serene and radiant. When I awoke, I was thankful for the memory of what I experienced, as I had a tendency to forget what happens to me when my body is at rest. I sat there for several hours contemplating what happened before my ringing doorbell got me out of bed. It was Queen Margaret.

“I want to apologize for poking you with that syringe. Your identity was mixed up with another man’s; you are in fact not responsible for my cousin’s death. Both Ogden and myself are sincerely sorry.” I accepted her apology and invited her in for tea. We had a wonderful in which I decided that I would become Savior of Earth. That afternoon, I e-mailed Freddy, asking him what I need to do.