Liesalotte's Fables for the Dark and Cynical

Mister Blister

Oh dear me, where to begin...

In life you will come across problems to solve, hurdles to leap and challenges to overcome.

Some of them come naturally to those who know how to tip the scales. Others work tirelessly for their peace of mind.

And others choose to bitch out and whine.

Such is the tale of Darth Plagueis the Wise... Oh hold on, I've misplaced my script.

Ah! Here it is.

The tale of Mister Blister.

A drama queen to the very end it seems. A man so stubborn in his complaints you'd have a more fulfilling conversation talking to a mountain and convincing it to shift the earth itself than you ever would trying to tell Mister Blister how to live his life.

The answers to all queries of life he believed to have figured out, or at least answers that suited best to his contextual truth. So often forgetting that there are multiple sides to the dice that life casts in this grand little game we call the futility of existence.

And to his cost, Mister Blister contrived his thoughts to become true, all other voices drowned out by the cacophony of his own orchestra, treating his opposition with denial and retracted statements malleable to context.

A foolish gesture for one such as himself to think he could continue to live his life in such a way without spurning the contempt of those who knew him.

But patience is a virtue... And virtues can be easily broken when even the holiest saint would like nothing more than to shove a rocket firmly up the ass cheeks of a monolith embodying ignorance.

All too tempting to light the fuse and send him to the deep reaches of space where his skin would boil and explode like a tasty little snack becoming grist for the expansive mill of the universe.

However such fantasies only grew over time. Not through major disagreements or conflict on such a magnified scale.

But like most arguments in life, his true misery began with a simple act of selfishness.

A mantra repeated as days turned to months, the span of time where such acts would wear down on even the most devoted of lovers.

An act of judgement, scowling at the labors and efforts of those he deemed beneath him.

And I'll have you know I worked hard to cook that fucking lasagna.

He spurred my cooking so I cooked his flesh.

Of all the dark twisted tools at my disposal, dark powers beyond imagination, a selection of incisive knives ready to slit the skin and a pot of boiling water sat beside a hot stove. I knew the sweetness that comes with a swift act of indulgence.

I chose all of the above options.

Caused one hell of a mess, but it was worth it to see him writhing on the floor as he attempted to crawl his way to the phone to call for an ambulance.

He gave me quite a show as he screamed until his throat became hoarse, pulling the telephone down from the wall only to limply gaze down at the floor when I kicked the landline from beyond his reach, whimpering softly like a good boy.

Though I can be cruel for those who choose to spurn me, I am not one for sadism.

I pressed my palm against his skin, my slender fingers digging into his temples and whispered my incantation into his ear.

His skin began to simultaneously peel, rot and regenerate into an imperfect mess. A twisted reflection of how I believe the world always saw him.

Needless to say he never bothered me again after that.

I still see him sometimes beyond the front window of my shop, hobbling quickly lest he suffer the slackjawed gawking of onlookers treating him like a diseased leper. I always make sure to blow him a kiss with a sly grin to pay tribute to the memories he and I shared.

And so my little dearies we come to Liesalotte's moral of the fable.

"This world is not just, it is not fair and will not discriminate upon whom who dares to do something kind for a loved one only to be repaid with scorn"

So in the event someone you care about is giving you hell, plot revenge and make sure they suffer... Although for most regular folks that might entail a nice little chat with the police once you're charged with assault and grievous bodily harm.

In which case look forward to your prosperous career as a hardened criminal or a life in prison being traded around for a pack of cigarettes in exchange for 'special favors'.

Hmm... Not very helpful is it?

Well the alternative is tolerating bullshit or a sweet but short lived revenge.

I'll entrust you to make the right decision my sweet little children of Darkness.

For this is but one of many tales from Liesalotte's Fables for the Dark and Cynical. and I bid you goodnight my sweet little Children of Darkness.