Friday, 20 July 2012

Mister Existential Angst

Mister Existential Angst had a nagging sense that life was fraught with contradiction, and quite possibly meaningless. Hence the name.

He lived in a small house in Happyland with a yellow bird, a white cat, and a cloying sense of unease.

One day, Mister Existential Angst was making a cup of tea when he realised that he didn’t have any milk. Oh dear!

He resolved to go to the shops to get some more. Then he remembered that he didn’t have a wallet.

“Come to think of it,” said Mister Existential Angst “I can’t remember ever paying for anything. Take this house; I don’t think I have a mortgage. Oh, god, am I a squatter?!”. He began to run in tight, panicked circles.

He was still running when the doorbell rang. “It’s us, your good friends Mr Petty, Mr Mute, and Mr Clumsy Exposition,” Mr Clumsy Exposition cried.

“Oh god,” sobbed Mister Existential Angst, “all my friends are completely one dimensional.”

Mr Mute said nothing.

“We’ve come to see if you were okay,” said Mr Clumsy Exposition. “After all, you have had four mental breakdowns in the last six days.”

“Six days, four hours, and twenty seven minutes” corrected Mr Petty.

“Don’t you see?” shouted Mister Existential Angst. “You’re all endowed with a single defining characteristic. Don’t you think that’s unusual?” He continued. “There’s something strange going on here, put I can’t seem to put my finger on it. Wait a minute,” Mister Existential Angst glanced downwards, face contorted in shock “I don’t have fingers! I don’t even have arms! How was I making a cup of tea?”

Mr Mute said nothing.

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