No Laughing Matter

             I’m ever so tired, and the car did not break. They never do. As I lock eyes with the driver, the engine screams in excitement. Objects in motion stay in motion, unless the miserable bastard wises up. Why tip the domino? But he does and we suffer forever after. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Rolling on the ground, laughter on all sides. Maybe I am laughing at how I bounced off the hood, an impact that would have knocked the lights of any deer. Or maybe I am laughing at the next set of bright eyes rapidly approaching, the eagle screams again. God Bless America.

              If I did not hate myself this would be no laughing matter, but the God honest truth is I love to suffer. While nothing quite compares to having my back blown out by a vehicle at 60 miles per hour, it is the little things that keep me grounded. I drink my sparkling water a little too fast, letting the carbonation rip apart my throat. I crucify myself with a 5-spice pad thai when I could have just enjoyed the meal. Without pain, what could I laugh at? One big joke, on me, on God. Humor is derived from suffering, and laughing is the only cure. Relativity man. Is this why the world spirals towards pain? To avoid it, we dish it and laugh. What if you only served yourself. Through the pain of my broken ribs, I laugh until I cry. I can’t wait until the next car, it will be so funny.