Where is Everybody?
Have you ever been partying heartily with a few of your besties,
A big ta-do with some cashews and way too many testies.
Me and the guy’s are thinking they’re gods gift to clever,
while the girl’s are arriving fashionably never.
The only super models coming though the door
are giant-sized dioramas of unrequited love
from some less than less than civil war.
And here I am
sipping some wine, never minding my own mind
when some douche-bag of wind shits on my good time,
exclaiming within earshot to the host, a most inconsiderate boast-
It’s ballsy, uncouth, even a little nutty,
when this Elmer Fuddy Duddy has to ask, Uh, uh, where is everybody?”
And suddenly
I’m stuck in an existential episode
of a solipsistic sitcom that’s clearly
not
starring me.
If “everyone” is not “here,” I guess that makes “me” chopped liver,
as antimatter of fact, to you I’m less than less than dirt
at the bottom of some river.
A hop and skip from the nacho cheese dip and three rungs below
being anyone you’d really ever care to know.
According to you,
Russel Brand, P Diddy, Charlie Sheen, God have to show up today.
Bonus points if the messiah comes through along with the cast of Ben-Hur
Ghandi and Gerard Depardieu.
Man, that guy can drink!
I mean really, am I no one? Am I that uninteresting and bland?
the wilting wall flower disguised as the invisible visible man.
Just give me a chance, I’ll talk your “ear” off
about politics, movies, major world religions
more interesting than watching Van Gogh paint my kitchen as
Mike Tyson pontificates pigeons.
Moreover, given the choice do you really want “everybody” at this party?
I think it’s safe to say we could all do without a few serial killers,
the date rapist from apartment 3G
and well, most magicians.
I mean is there even a proper response to that? Where is everybody?
Everybody is here in that everybody is everywhere.
All at once.
The only time no one is here or rather was here
was billions of years ago and it pretty much sucked
It was impossibly hard to party
with little to no big-bang for your buck.
The only appropriate time to ask this stupid and moronic question is
I don’t know–following some genocidal alien spaceship landing?
Or sometime after apocalypse if your worthless ass is still standing?
Or maybe to yourself, sitting at home
masturbating
alone
in the mirror…
Where is everybody?
Look.
Everybody is where they’re supposed to be
which is anywhere and everywhere, but where you happen to be.
Yeah, I’m sure what you actually meant to say was,
Where are the rest of the guests?
Well, by your logic if everybody hasn’t arrived–yet,
that is to say you haven’t arrived yet either.
So go home before you ever get here, you’ve been uninvited.
Shut your mouth and let the door hit ya on the way out.
It’s a little sad how what was said you must regret
That’s too bad, because nobody
just left.
Posted on August 28, 2012, in Prose and tagged apocalypse, existentialism, party. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.
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