Live! from my parents' basement . . .
it's my second life!
Written by:  Alex Sandell

Youth is precious.  I guess that's because people start sucking when they leave it behind.  So, here I am, at the tail-end of youth, sitting at home, with parents who don't want me here, a car that hardly works, and nothing left besides the rest of my life.  This must be what they warned me about all those years ago, when they said, "take the damn janitor job!  At least you'll be independent." Right about now, plunging someone else's toilet for $9.50 an hour sounds oddly appealing, as long as I receive good benefits, a strong anti-bacterial soap, and lunch break of some sort. 

If I was reborn, I'd do it differently, just to avoid having to move back in with my parents at 27 years old.   This time I'd do anything they told me to.  I'd get the homework done and keep the smile on my face.  I wouldn't show my true feelings or let anyone know my opinions on anything other than the weather and what I think of their homemade lasagna (it would be nothing but "great!", of course).  I'd go to whatever college they told me was the best and enter whichever program they wanted me in.  Then, once I graduated with my law degree, I'd make lots of money and live in the most expensive neighborhood and drive the best BMW money could buy.  Not because I was trying to show off, mind you, but because it was "safe."  It's probably the only reason I would live through smashing it head-on into the wall of the accounting firm I would enter with a huge UZI. 

Did I mention that, in this new life, I'd be an outspoken member of the NRA?

Anyway, where was I?  If I was reborn . . . yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah, lawyer, BMW, accounting firm, UZI.   Ah . . . there we are.  I would enter that accounting firm that took all of my millions through bad transactions and stupid decisions and I'd gun them all down. ALL OF THEM.  I'd be in the news, if I was reborn.  "His whole life he did everything right," they'd say.  "He was such a quiet, kind gentleman," they'd say.  "He was normal," they'd say.  "No one would have ever suspected he'd shoot 34 people because he was down on his luck.  This is so sad .......... so sad."  I'd listen to my media spun pre-eulogy and then blow out my brains. 

Of course I'd join all the other normal people who blew their brains out and are already residing in Heaven, because I attended church and made contributions every Sunday.  Not to mention the fact that I was literally "Born Again."  Born again as a good man.   Things just went a little wacky in my brain.  "It happens to the best of us," they'd say, at my funeral, where I'd be surrounded by wealthy colleagues and a proud, but confused, family.   

I'd do it differently if I had a second chance.  I'd turn out just like they told me to.  They'd be so pleased; at least until the day that I took out all those accountants.  But then again, it wouldn't really be me to blame, would it?  It would be television and movies and video games.  It couldn't be me to blame.  A normal person is never blamed for his actions.  Just the freaks who live in the bad parts of town, and drive shitty cars that wouldn't withstand hitting a wall at an accounting firm, are held accountable for who they are.  Their lives don't matter, anyway.  At least my life "counted" for something, right?  That's what I thought. 

But, that isn't my life, and this one is.  And in this life, I have to stop typing.  I've got a curfew, ya know?

ęCopyright 1999 Alex Sandell [All Rights Reserved].  For a "roommate wanted" list, contact Alex Sandell at alex@juicycerebellum.com.  If you talk to my parents, please don't tell them I swore in this update; they'd ground me. 

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