I would like to tell you a story. This story is about a boy and a girl, as many stories are. The boy’s name was Nothing and the girl’s name was Something. Nothing loved Something with all of his heart. They were inseparable. Nothing’s friends were a little dubious, however. Conversations between the boy and his friends were always very similar:
“I love Something,” the boy would say.
“What?” the friend would answer.
“I love Something.”
“What?”
“I love
Something!”
“I heard you, what do you love?”
“Are you messing with me?”
“No, you said you love Something, and I want to know what!”
“Something!”
“You aren’t going to tell me? Why is it such a huge secret?”
“I just did tell you!”
“Fuck you and your secret love,” the friend would usually say and then storm off.
For Something, her conversations were equally frustrating:
“I love Nothing,” the girl would say.
“Why?” her friend would answer.
“It’s hard to say…”
“Are you sad?”
“No, quite the opposite!”
“Well, why do you love Nothing?”
“I just do!”
“That seems very sad. Everybody loves Something.”
“Thank you!”
“Thank you for what? I don’t understand you.”
“Well, Nothing does.”
“Again, that seems very isolationist.”
“As long as I have Nothing, I’ll be happy.”
Something’s friend shakes her head in bewilderment. “Cheer up, OK?”
One day, Nothing gave Something a red rose. Something’s heart filled with even more love for Nothing and she vowed to one day marry Nothing. Eventually Nothing did marry Something. They had two children: Everything and Mystery. And a dog named Supposedly. They lived for many years as a huge, strangely-named, happy family until one day Something’s father showed up demanding to know why he wasn’t invited to the wedding. His name was…Steve. Yes, Steve.
“Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding?” asked Steve.
“Nothing wanted you there,” Something began.
“Nothing?”
“Yes.”
“You mean ‘No one’ wanted me there?”
“No, Nothing wanted you there. Something did not.”
“You did not?”
“Yes.”
“If Nothing and Something had Something and Nothing then would Everything become Nothing?”
“Of course.”
“Mystery?”
“Sometimes.”
“Supposedly?”
“Why Not?”
“Nothing.”
Then, Grandmother Probably came a-knocking on their front door with some kind of story to yap about:
“Is someone at the door?” said Nothing.
“Probably,” said Something.
“Well, did you check the door?”
“Yes.”
“Is someone there?”
“Yes, Probably.”
“Didn’t you check for sure?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to answer it?”
“Probably will come in eventually.”
“What? Why don’t you just open the door yourself?”
“Oh, Probably let herself in.”
“There is a woman at the door?”
“Probably.”
“Fuck you and your secret love,” Nothing said and stormed off.
This family had many ridiculous conversations in the years to follow, most of them unprintable. No one could understand these conversations and eventually everyone they knew disowned them or alienated them until they considered changing their names like Steve had. They all met in a secluded cabin and started to think about what their new names should be. That was, until Great-Grandfather Always came along with his whuppin’ stick and 100 miles of bad attitude. He was a raging alcoholic and beat them all within an inch of their lives. Probably.
The End
You have just read The Greatest Love Story Ever Told. When you stop crying (
if you stop crying) please do your part and pass this story on to everyone you know. Like the Beatles said, “All You Need Is Love.” They also said “I’d like to be under the sea in an Octopus’s Garden in the shade,” so maybe their advice isn’t the most sound advice you could follow. Anyway, it is your duty as a citizen of Planet Earth to send this story to everyone who needs some hope in their life. If they get no comfort from this story, then they have dark twisted souls that no one can heal. I do what I can but I can’t go around trying to heal everyone’s burnt shell of a soul. Get a real soul, losers.
This story is the closest thing to Heaven that you will ever see on Earth. Remember it always as it shall remember you. I Love You.
Signed: Jesus Christ Our Lord and Savior
I admit, I have been inspired lately by country music. I started writing my own country ballad last night, and I think I have a hit on my hands. I think that’s what is on my hands *looking closely at my hands*. Anyway, here are the lyrics to the next “Song of the Year” at the 2010 Grammys. You heard it here first.
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