Written by Greg Giovannini
Everything was pressuring me to do it. I couldn’t just not. I mean, not doing it would obviously mean ultimate doom, and who was I to bring about that kind of horror on a grossly unsuspecting world? It’s not like it was all that difficult to do. In retrospect, I really had no excuse not to do it. My friends would tell me I’d be fine, that it wasn’t a big deal – well, that is, if I actually had friends. I never really jumped on the whole “friends” bandwagon. Maybe I should’ve, that way the weight of ultimate doom wouldn’t be resting on my shoulders alone. But it was. After all, I have a Master’s in Computer Science and Being Antisocial. It’s a dual degree program, a two-for-one package. The best part is, they make you do both regardless of your decision; it’s like a free little dose of feudalism, where people with more money than you make your decisions and shape your personality for you. That’s kind of what was happening now. I couldn’t just not do it.
So I did it. I hit the brake and stopped for the deer. I could hear God whispering words of gratitude in my ear. I swear I did. Either that, or the depths of my subconscious were imposing positive auditory hallucinations to satisfy the cravings spawned from years with no friends. Regardless, the little faun walked across the street very much not like a deer in headlights as my trusty Elentra glided to a stop (not moving was something my car was particularly good at – I’ve learned to make use of things’ natural abilities).
“Whew. Crisis averted; the world is safe.” I drove off into the distance. Then I hit a traffic light. Because one good deed must naturally be balanced out by a less tasteful act, I ran it as it turned yellow like a real rebel. None of my existent friends saw that one coming – but that statement was rather loaded, because it assumed that 1) I had friends, and 2) that such friends were still in existence. I’m on fire; and now I’m in present tense.
As I drive on in the aftermath of my heroic deed and heinous crime, I feel the ultimate doom receding back into the shadowy depths of Mordor, like Jack slipping off the edge of a piece of driftwood in Titanic.