The End of the Universe

(or My Inner Dialogue Part Four)

“So I’m talking to myself and…”
“Whoa! Let me stop you right there.”
“Uh…what’s going on?”
“You’re going on that’s what’s going on.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is the part where you make some little pun or toss out some wordplay until I get flustered and start making fun of you, right?”
“Am I that predictable?”
“When you keep saying the same things over and over, yeah, it does get pretty easy to guess what’s coming next.”
“Caramel. There. I bet you didn’t think I was going to say that.”
“Yes. Congratulations. You win.”
“What do I win?”
“You don’t actually win anything. It’s just a figure of speech.”
“That just makes you a huge tease than doesn’t it?”
[sigh] “I just can’t win.”
“That’s the second law of thermodynamics.”
“So the universe really is conspiring against us?”
“It would seem so.”
“Well at least we know we’re all doomed. That’s something.”
“So is it pronounced care-a-mel or or car-mul?”
“Uh, either, I guess.”
“Is it pronounced e-ther or i-ther?”
“And that’s when I killed him, your honour.”
“Sorry, old joke.”
“Old as the universe.”
“How do you go from impending galactic collapse to the pronunciation of foodstuffs?”
“I eat whenever I think about how the universe will end.”
“Fair enough. I guess that makes sense. If you’re you, that is.”
“Who else would I be?”
“No, what I mean is you seem to have your own perverse logic, and you can make what seems to be sense out of complete drivel. It’s really quite fascinating to watch.”
“Why thank you!”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“It is if I think it is.”
“That’s the power of denial for you. It’s the narcissist’s code. I think I am great, therefore I am great.”
“So you think I’m self-absorbed?”
“Well, you do spend an awful amount of time talking to yourself.”
“I can’t deny that.”
“How about we go and commiserate the end of the universe together with a sundae?”
“All right. Do you want caramel on that?”
“Yeah, I kinda do.”

For my original works of fiction, subscribe to my other blog Unlikely Realm.

Crazed recluse and sociophobe who has taken up writing after failing at everything else. Send pizza.

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Posted in Blog, Talking to myself does not make me crazy.

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