Dear Life: Kiss My Metal Butt
Dear Life, I’ve known you now for over 60 years. In all that time, I would have thought we’d become friends. I mean, we’ve been through...well, everything together. You’ve known me since the day I was born and watched me grow up. You stood by as the bullies beat me and I was ridiculed in school for my size and passion for animals and plants. I took that as a hint, that perhaps you didn’t want me around and so I withdrew into the greenhouse with my father. But he insisted that you were the “good guy” and that it would be to my benefit to face you, regardless of my personal feelings. But you never made it easy. What confuses me Life, is when you seem to care...and you grow so close, encouraging and uplifting one moment, only to tear down and near-destroy the next. Why is that? Why do you take dreams and hopes and when I work with all my might, day and night, do you stand there in stoic fashion and dangle my desires in front of me, just out of reach? Again my father told me to step it up and push forward, no matter what you said or did. Yet through all my complaints and hesitations, he continued to insist you meant no harm. “Life is here only for our benefit,” he would say. So I believed him. Until mom died. The greatest gnome to walk this world, loving all and giving to anyone in need and you took her. But it wasn’t me I was worried about—it was my father. The love of his life was ripped from his existence and in a few short years, watched his own desire for living deteriorate until all he desired was to join my mother in the grave. Even now his voice whispers to me to give you another chance, but there’s more to it than that. You have a twisted and morbid sense of humor. As I grew and developed my own reputation among my people, earning fame and sometimes fortune, you dropped me into a government contract. Harsh personalities and restrictions a citizen like me doesn’t deal with well. To compensate, you introduced me to my sweetheart. For that I can never truly hate you. I just can’t. It cost me two fingers and an ear to get her attention, but it was worth it. You stood close by as the vows were spoken and we started our family. I never knew I could be so happy. That such a woman even existed. Then it got better. Alhannah and Green, bright and beautiful, intelligent in the way only a gnome can really be. We were so happy. So very happy. Why did you take it away from me? Have I done something o offend you? Have I spoken ill or raised my fists to the unknown gods overhead? NO! I sought only to be the best individual I can be, and to attend to my duties and responsibilities...and you took her. You ripped my love from my grasp. The last sight was her wide eyes and panicked expression as the Prime Gate flashed shut. Then I hated you. Two innocent children left in the hands of their father without a helpmate to raise them, guide them and love them. You bastard. I hated you deeply then. But the voice of my father rose once more from the grave and his words touched my very soul. “Trust in the path, son...trust in the path and all will work out for your good.” So here I am, trusting. Reaching out. Alhannah is finally asleep. The potions are working...for now. I’m writing this letter to strike a deal. You’ve taken my parents, you’ve taken my beloved wife...you even taken nearly half my body through violence and mayhem. You may not take my daughter. Do you hear me, you damned curse? YOU MAY NOT TAKE MY CHILD! So here’s my deal. Do what you like with me. Do what you like TO me. I’ll go and do whatever you want me to go and do, just preserve my child’s life. For all of heaven and hell, I don’t want to bury my children. Please. Don’t take her. I’ll do ANYthing. Just don’t take her. If you do, all bets are off. I’ll give up my profession, torch my records and ignore all your encouragement from here on out. You may not have noticed, but my children are all I have left that I love in this word. Take them, and you can rot. That, and you can kiss my metal butt, cause I’ll never trust you again.
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