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Ned the Nihilist: A Misanthropic Monologue

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(Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" plays softly in the background on repeat for the duration)

I know, I know, you want me to let you go. I completely understand your feeling that way, but I can assure you by the time we're through with our little endeavor, the last thing you'll want to do is leave.

Where are you? Why, you're in my basement. Isn't that obvious?

Well what I want with you has no simple answer. It's over your head, I'm sure, but you'll soon want something from me as well.

Who am I? Well I'm just an old libertine really, but I'm sure you'll come up with many names for me.

You have a family? I had no idea! Well let me just get these chains off of you.

Ha! Surely you didn't fall for that one. I know you've got a family, you insignificant cunt. I've been watching you for months.

Where are they? Where's your daughter? Well I assume she's at home sucking daddy's cock like a good girl.

No, no—I don't have them. You're all I need for the time being. Are we through with the crying and the twenty questions?

Why? Hmmm. Well as I said, it's probably over your head, but a wise old friend once put it this way, "It is only by sacrificing everything to the senses' pleasure that this individual, who never asked to be cast into this universe of woe, that this poor creature who goes under the name of Man, may be able to sow a smattering of roses atop the thorny path of life."

Ah! Great God, how I want to bathe in his words.

Why are you so scared? Shut up, you cum-filled maggot! The question was rhetorical. The answer is, of course, because you don't want to die. Death is the reason for all fear, is it not? Some may tell you they fear pain, but really they fear the realization of their fragility that an injury causes. We all have to die, but none of us really want to, do we? Even a dumb cocksucker like yourself knows that death renders life meaningless.

That's right. I said it. Life has no meaning. I think it's laughable that we even have to discuss it really. Why work for something you don't get to keep? You wouldn't have a child if you knew it was simply going to die, would you?

Oh wait. You would. You did, you ignorant piece of shit. You knew your daughter would have to die someday, and yet you still chose to bring her into this world. Way to go! You brought someone from nonexistence and put them on death row. Congratulations!

Why the fuck would you have a kid knowing death is inevitable? God you're selfish. What if she can't make peace with death? What if she doesn't think it's a fair trade? What if she ends up wishing she never was? What if the unknown is too much to bear? What was gained? Nothing! Nothing except a toy for you.

Oh, let me guess, you believe in heaven? What if she doesn't?

What if there is a heaven, but she chooses the wrong god? Then what? Hell?

Do you not realize that something that doesn't exist can't miss out on anything? You all want so badly to end pain and suffering, and the answer is so fucking simple. But then, you'd have to give up your toys, wouldn't you?

Ah fuck me, who am I kidding? You probably didn't even think about any of that, did you? You probably said, "Oh, I want a baby. They're so cute! Let's have one," like you were picking out a fucking hamster.

Ok, ok, change of subject. I can't waste my time discussing antinatalism with a fucking soccer mom. And here I thought you were gonna be the one wishing for death before this was over.

Oh my, I've shown my hand. Well you had to find out sooner or later. Yes, by the time we're done here, you'll be begging for death.

You see this knife? This knife has changed the lives of dozens. I sharpen this knife every night. This knife is a public servant. This knife, guided by my hand, has removed the fear of death countless times.

Oh boo hoo, you want your family? Yeah? So sad. You're gonna die in here, you mindless cum-dumpster! This is the end of the road sister. These four walls are it for you. No one knows you're here, and no one ever will. It's fucking over—release your hope.

Now where was I? Oh yes, this knife. This knife and I, you see, we help people. We help people get over their fear of death by making them long for nothing else.

Oh quit screaming. You've got to have the ugliest scream-face I've ever seen. It's no good on you, I promise.

Ok then, I suppose we should get started.

Stop screaming, you filthy cunt! I've heard it all before. Now stop or I'll have to stick this blow torch up your ass instead of using it to heat this blade.

Oh, it's not so bad. The heated blade helps slow the bleeding. We'll start with the calf. It's a bit of a tough muscle to get through, but I've become a bit of an expert. Let's just get this ball-gag in your mouth, and we'll be on our way.

Ah, the simple things in life. People would call this a vice, and perhaps rightly so, but I still consider it virtuous, even though I despise that word.

Ok, ok, I'll come clean. I don't actually do this for the good of man. I do this because it gets my dick hard. I do this because I finally got tired of paying hookers fifty bucks to smack my flaccid cock around for thirty minutes with no fucking pay off. Some of those filthy bitches even made fun of me. Can you believe that? I give them my hard-earned money and they fucking make fun of me? God, what is this world coming to? But in all honesty, there is a little virtue in what I do—it's unavoidable.

I'm helping you overcome your fear of death. It's a small price to pay for the most decadent moments one can experience.

This is something that I wish for myself someday, but for now, I'll suffer through helping you to help me. It's all very confusing. Sometimes I get these fucking ticks in my head and I just have to beat my head on the wall. You don't care. Why the fuck am I telling you this?

Ok, back to work. Let's get this calf off. You'll feel a very literal but also a metaphorical weight has been lifted. The first is always the worst, and it gets easier every time after that.

Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh! Haaaa! You noisy shit-bag; I know it fucking hurts, there's no need to remind me.

Well for fuck's sake, I told you to calm down. Now you're puking out your nose. Burns like hell I bet. Don't look at me, you did it.

All done. See, that wasn't so bad. Now I'll just take this torch and do a quick pass over the exposed area, and you'll be good as new. Well, almost.

Now calm down while I go make us some dinner.

Dinner is served, madam. Let's get this gag out of your mouth.

You're not hungry? Come on! Indulge! Life is short. Sorry for laughing—how rude of me.

You can't tell me you don't like steak tartare. I refuse to believe that. You're just scared because you've never had it. No no, I can assure you it's not your leg meat. Trust me, I have much better use for that than dumping it down your fuck-juice funnel. Now come on, eat up.

You insolent shit! You wanna spit food on me? Let's see if you change your mind after a few days without food or water.

Wakey wakey, my little flower. Time for some more life lessons. Actually this will be short. I'm still pissed at you over what you did yesterday. Let me just get this other calf off, and I'll be on my way. By the way, your new name is BS. Ha! How delightfully absurd. Do you like it?

Well, I'm glad to see you're finally ready to eat, BS. I have to say you held out the longest of any so far. The record was four days but your six is extremely impressive. I bet your thirst is unbearable. Bottoms up. That's a good girl. Now have another bite of the tartare. See, it's not so bad, is it?

Still worried about your daughter? My what a good mommy you are. I envy your little girl, really I do. My mommy was a little different. You wanna know what kind of mommy I had? My mommy used to make me eat her shit, and when I was done I had to lick her ass clean. That's right, I was a human toilet and toilet paper. I can't be certain, but I think she blamed me for my daddy blowing his brains out. Oh who am I kidding, she told me a million times. Sorry for trying to be nostalgic.

So soon? I expected you to hold out for at least a few months. We're only five weeks in. Are you sure? Look me in the eyes. Yes, hmmm. Maybe you're right. Well, you're close enough at least. You're basically just a breastless trunk at this point anyway. Tomorrow will be your special day, I'll make sure of it.

Good morning, you big bag of shit. Ah, what a glorious day it is. I feel as giddy as a schoolgirl. Ok, so you think you're ready to die now? I actually agree, but of course, I'll have to make sure.

How? Well, I have a secret. I actually told a fib the first day we met. I said your little girl was likely home servicing daddy, but in reality... I'm gonna lean in for this: she's been servicing us.

That's right, my dear friend. Let me just get this chair wheeled around into the light. There we go. I have to tell you, mom, she has quite the mouth on her. Of course I helped her out by removing all her teeth, but she obviously has natural talent.

Yes, mom, her legs and arms are gone too. Like mother, like daughter. Your feet and hands are my bed-buddies now.

Anyway, so here's the grand finale. Are you ready, ladies?

Here we go! Beef Stew, meet my friend, and your daughter, Steak Tartare!

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(Author's note: Whether you loved or hated the story, please check out ChristianWallis's blog on cohesive writing using an in-depth review of this story.)

Written by Jay Ten
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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