I spoke to sister yesterday, and she said, “She’s having existential problems, and mooching off it and writing dark poetry,” and I was mind blown. When I was your age, I lay on the green grass with Cynthia or was it Emilie? It doesn’t matter; anyhow, I lay and smoked a pack of Marlboro, looking at pink sunsets, and rode my motorcycle, and feasted on sumptuous beef, pork, and squid. Now, paunched, with arthritis, and cancer ridden, coughs, I mean gracefully older, smoking a pipe, and reading ‘Silence’ by Shusaku Endo; you must forgive an old man his Freudian sl….damn it! I mean, forgetfulness. So, I recently tried this Facebook thing you youngsters are crazy about, and I couldn’t figure out what a bloody timeline is. Is this a public journal of sorts? Status messages? Bah! What the hell is that even supposed to mean? I’m old, I mean, young at heart. Does that qualify as a status? No wonder you kiddos writhe in agony. It gave me a migraine, I mean, a mild headache, and I deactivated it. That last term made me think of my days during the war when I had to deactivate things far worse to prevent a comrade from dying. And now, this whole nonsense of the Internet makes me want to deactivate, I mean, release myself from the burdens of life, with my newly discovered telepathic powers. But the problem is I prefer the comforts of my hospital bed,
fuck, I mean, well furnished home. Damn! When will this stop! Sorry. Anyhow, so I need a sidekick, and fighting crime was always on my bucket list, I mean, things to do. So, I’ll unnerve the idiots by placing thoughts in their head, while you go around and beat them black and blue. Whaddaya say? Well, don’t think about it, because that’s all you youngsters do these days, and join me. I hope to hear from you soon.
Much love and light (I hear that’s fashionable these days)
Charles Edward III
© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)