A collection of short stories centering around a kid named Sammy and a few of his friends, not so good friends, and straight up enemies. It's 50% simple vibes, and 50% teenage angst.
I didn't know what I was doing when I wrote this, and a lot of the...
Evil Eric was a busy, busy man. What with all the children to kidnap, grandmas to steal from, and puppies to kill, he barely had any time for himself. He couldn't sleep, he had developed an eye tremor, and he no longer gained even a modicum of joy from anything he did.
Even an evil man such as Eric knew the importance of maintaining a healthy mental ecosystem so at his next therapy session (he had them twice a month with the lovely Dr. Bean) he resolved to talk to to his therapist about his constant burnt out state and ask her what he should do.
Eric: "My darling Dr. Bean, I am in a constant burnt out state. What should I do?
Dr. Bean: "Well, why do you think you're burnt out?"
Evil Eric hated therapists. He hated them for many reasons but mostly because they were always asking questions. They were annoying and pretentious and thought they were better than you just because they had bigger armchairs, but joke's on them because the only reason that they have a better armchair than you is because they couldn't afford to buy two big fancy armchairs for their office in the first place. Therapists are stupid. The world would be better if they would all just get up and go find the nearest -
Wait.
No.
Doctor Bean said he needed to work on his immediate retreat to anger and distrust whenever he was approached by feelings that made him question his thoughts and expectations of reality. Take a deep breath.
In.
Hold.
Out.
He'd never thought to think about the cause of his burn out, so it wasn't truly despicable of angelic Doctor Bean to ask him to. Eric took a moment to reflect, and almost immediately realized what had been wrong this entire time.
Eric: "I have let my passion devour me; Everything I do is evil. Evil in the morning, evil in the evening, evil at 1:32 a.m. when I'm laying in bed over analyzing everything I've ever done and drowning in a sea of existential despair. I've let evil define me completely instead of just being another aspect of my identity. It might as well be a prefix to my name at this point."
Dr. Bean: "Very good; you've just done a lovely job self-evaluating. Now, what do you think you should do to address this problem?"
There were those pesky questions again. Wait. . . No.
In.
Hold.
Out. . . Big breaths.
Eric: "I suppose it might be helpful to explore other aspects of my personality so as to expand into my whole self as an actual being, instead of some sort of one-dimensional, conveniently antagonistic character in a poorly written internet story.
Dr. Bean: "Hmm . . . And what do you think would be the best way to approach implementing this solution?"
. . .
In.
Hold.
Out.
Stupid Therapists.
Eric: "I really don't know. At this point it feels like being evil is all I am. I don't think I have any other interests."
Dr. Bean: "Okay then, why don't you try this: for one week, only one week, I want you to try not to do anything evil. This will give you a sort of crash course into who you are without it. Starting next Sunday morning and until the following Saturday night, you are only allowed to do good or neutral things."
Silence filled the office. It would have been conveniently cinematic if there had been a clock ticking, but unfortunately Doctor Bean was a tech savvy lady and had a super rad digital clock instead. The only sound was a newly divorced woman in the legal firm office down the hall hiccuping. It was not quite as cinematic.
Growing tired of the woman's hiccups Eric leaped from his chair and crossed the room. He grabbed Doctor Bean's doctorate's degree off the wall, smashed the frame, ripped out the diploma, and ate it. Then, without breaking eye contact, he screamed like a goat. If you could have heard the ticks of a clock you could have counted approximately 602. If you had been counting the hiccups of the possibly drunken woman down the hall it would have been closer to 246. All that to say that he screamed for approximately ten minutes.
Doctor Bean looked at Eric. Eric looked at Doctor the Bean. The woman down the hall slammed the door of the legal office. Eric turned back around and re-seated himself in his less superior armchair. He understood that his response had been a little uncalled for. He was sorry.
Eric: "I am sorry"
Dr. Bean: " I understand that this is challenging for you, but I think that it is the best course of action if you want to feel better in the long run."
She didn't mention that he had eaten a $500,000 dollar piece of paper.
Eric felt like crying, so he did, because he's an adult and he can do what he wants.
Doctor Bean reached across her desk and placed her hand on his. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly.
Dr. Bean: "You have done so well these past few months. I trust that you can do this. It might be tough, but you are strong, and what is life without a little struggle?
"However, if you really don't want to, we can hold off on that. After all, this is your mental health journey, and your opinion matters most."
As much as Eric hated therapists, he did like Doctor Bean. She was kind. She didn't judge him when he ate expensive pieces of paper. She didn't call the police that one time when he confessed to stealing all of the scissors in a whole office building, Although that last one might have just been because of doctor-patient confidentiality, or because he had, at that time, been armed with no less than 37 pairs of scissors, while she no longer had any.
No matter the reason, Doctor Bean was a chill person with real good vibes, and Eric would do anything for her.
Eric: "Okay, I'll try it. But only because I want to, and not because you asked me."
Doctor Bean smiled gently and ushered him out of her office. His appointment was over. They hadn't really talked about much, but you don't really have time for that if you partake in lengthy screaming episodes.
Dr. Bean: "Goodbye Eric, Tell me how it goes in two weeks."
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