Waiting for Godotal

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Are you waiting for your salvation? Waiting for your rescue from all life's problems? Waiting for someone to give you all the answers? Well, I'm sure Godotal is sure to show and all will be well. The classification of it is humor which it is presented as but if you look beneath it's actually quite dark humor. From the published book "Love Is What Will Make an Immortal Die: Also Includes Waiting for Godotal and Future Uncertain, Self-sedition, No Reason, Rhyme and The Mystery of the Missing Dead and Sojourn Within the Shadow Night" by Xavier Cockroachal Damon. Available at Amazon.

Submitted: June 16, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 16, 2019



Waiting for Godotal


Xavier Cockroachal Damon

Dedication: This Is The Newly Discovered, Lost, And Last Work By Xavier Cockroachal Damon. I Would Say You Will Be Missed, But Well, You Really Won’t Be.


I sat by the phone and I waited…

And I waited…

And for that ever refreshing change of pace I waited some more…

And waited…

And waited…

And waited…

And waited…


I waited…

And waited…

And waited…

It was seeming obvious to any with a lick of sense. Something both the blind and dead could see, quite apparently, Godotal might not be calling this night.

And so…

I waited…

And waited…

And waited…

For if salvation was to call you on the phone, how stupid you would be to not have been home.

So I waited…

And I waited…

And waited…

For a fool not am I. Godotal was certain to call. And so end the wrecking ball. Grab you in mid-air from the fall. Illuminate the darkness. Reveal the light of a brand new day. And so I waited for the words that he would say.

And I waited…

And I waited…

And waited…

And then…

The phone, it rang…

A wrong number from someone trying to sell me life insurance from a company based in Bangalore while also offering phone sex services from him, a teenage girl, even though it was abundantly obvious he was an elderly man. He also tried to enlist me in a time share money making scheme for not yet built condos in Finland while inviting me to join him in his knitting seminar of how to knit the best knitted presentation of Catholic saints wearing cowboy hats. “Great fun” he said it was, then adding “So, you like my tight 17 year old ass baby, wanna party.” No. It twas not Godotal. But I knew, Godotal he would most definitely call or arrive in person this night, and when he did, all would be right. No more hell to have to fight.

And so…

I waited…

And waited…

And waited…

The hours added onto themselves, million times viewed movies on their respective shelves

There then walked into the room…Oh Christ, a pack of elves

“We are here on our quest for the holy grail, travelling from the land of Barfadale, upon the ocean we set sail, knowing that in our task we would prevail! No hardship could stop us from reaching our goal, no wyvern nor bridge guarding troll! On we will roll and onward march never to be deterred, for no matter how much adversity is placed in our way, through it we will push until arriving in that blessed day!” The elves then just stood and stared at me as I stared back at them as well. “So, um, you wouldn’t happen to know where the holy grail is by any chance would you?” one of them then asked.

“No.” I answered.

“Shit. Well, hey we tried. What else can we do? Guys, let’s return to Barfadale. Nice meeting you, bye.”

No, it had not been several mini, pointed ear Godotals I had just encountered, but I knew, Godotal this night he would show himself.

And so I waited…

And I waited…

And waited…

And then…

The doorbell rang. I raised from the chair in which I was sitting to answer the door, carrying with me the cup of vodka I was drinking from. I opened it and standing there was a man, majestic in appearance, wearing glasses, several necklaces, dime store magic tricks hanging from an elaborate belt, long flowing cloak trailing behind him, two body guards, part of his entourage, one on either side, himself holding an ornate staff bedecked with many different colored rhinestones.

They all just stood there staring at me, the leader of the group eyeing me with a look of pageantry. I pulled out and lit up a cigarette, awaiting a conversation to at some point begin unfolding from its current air tight silence. “Um, and you would be?” I asked.

One of the bodyguards answered back “Wait, are you saying”, he then turned to the group’s leader”, “Sorry boss.”, then turned back to me “Don’t you know who this is?”

“Yes, of course I do which is exactly why I just asked who he was, seemed a logical step to reinforce my admittedly scant knowledge base.”

“What did you just say?” the other of them asked.

“Guess you’re hard of hearing, allow me to repeat it then. Yes of course I do which is exactly—“

“No, I mean, really, what did you just say? I heard you but couldn’t understand a word of it.”

I took a large drink from my cup then a long drag from my cigarette. “I said. No I don’t know who he is.”

“How can you not know who this is? Why this is the great—“

The man with the staff raised it, signaling for the bodyguard to stop then he, himself spoke “Why it is me.” He then paused with his palms turned upward, dragging the pause out ridiculously long in a failed attempt to elicit the most effect, when to be perfectly honest it really just made me want to exit to the other room and take a nap. I took another drink and continued smoking my cigarette, awaiting the completion of the sentence. “The great!” Having found myself entrapped in another lengthy pause I finished my drink, cigarette as well then walked across the room and poured another, returned with it to where I had been standing, and lit up another cigarette. The remainder of the response consisted of three words, each separated by what was thankfully considerably shorter pauses, “blind…seer…Tiresias!” These words were also accompanied by piano music and a chorus of oohs played by one of the bodyguards on a portable cassette player.

“The great blind seer, so, what, you’re saying you look at big venetian blinds or something?”

“No, a seer, as in I see.” responded Tiresias.

“And are also blind.” I added.

“I don’t mean physical seeing, of course I don’t do that, I’m blind, I mean I see oracles, the future, what will happen.”

“But you can’t physically see?”

“No. I’m blind. The blind seer, kind of catchy isn’t it?” Tiresias noted with self-adulation.

“Yes, quite cute. But you say this, of course, while texting on your smartphone and wearing glasses that obviously have two clear lens, while also responding out loud to your received texts with your commentary.”

“Um, ah, well, the glasses I need you see for in my old age I have become somewhat nearsighted.” explained Tiresias.

“So then it is your contention that you’re a nearsighted blind person.” I observed, taking a drink.

“Um, well, yes, indeed.”

“My, you certainly are quite the seer.” I took a drink and a drag.

“Ah yes I am a seer and a seer who sees this.” Tiresias did a funky hand gesture while swaying his head.

“Boss, you got the moves.” commented one of his guards.

“You’re the king boss!” declared the other.

Tiresias turned angrily to him. “No I am not the king, I am the counselor to kings. That, is who I am, that, is what I do. I am a seer and I advise. You know my body of work, Oedipus and Kreon, didn’t stick around to see how their reigns ended, but very successful I’m sure they were.” He turned back to me “So tell me then sir, might you yourself be a king in need of a blind seer’s assistance?”

“Well I suppose you could call me a king. A king of nothing, forever sitting on his throne of shit, tending to his empty, forever crumbling kingdom.” I took a drink and a drag from my cigarette

“Throne of shit you say. I imagine that could get rather messy, um, this robe is genuine suede you do realize. Hmm, let’s see, let’s see. Now, does the shit adhere merely to the throne itself or does it expand to other areas of the kingdom? Because if it didn’t, then certainly I could just stand at a safe distance and speak loudly with my blind seer counsel.”  

“It covers every square inch of the entire kingdom.” I answered, taking a drink then a drag.  

“Aha. Ahum. I, ah, well, I suppose, hmm. One moment will you while I confer with my associates here.” Tiresias and his bodyguards huddled together for only a few moments then Tiresias turned back to me, speaking. “Yes then, very sorry, sorry indeed but I’m afraid we can’t do business together. You see, from the way you describe your kingdom it certainly sounds like I’d be up to my eyeballs in shit, and you see, as said, this is genuine suede. Feel it, come on feel it.” Tiresias held out part of his cloak.

“Yeah, you know I tend to believe petting animals should be reserved for those that are still living, not their dead carcasses adorning bodies other than their own.”

“Very soft, very squishy.” Tiresias again offered a touch of the cloak, he himself rubbing his cloak with his fingers.

“No.” my curt decline.

“Yes, well then, as said, sorry but you’re on your own. Rocko, Vinny, let’s get out of here, and sing the song as we walk.” The three of them then exited, the two bodyguards singing as they walked away “If you really need a seer, you want one who is blind, this seer such a seer he’s gonna blow your mind, the best, greatest seer you will ever find. Tiresias, Tiresias, your future he will kiss. Tiresias, Tiresias, the blind seer who doesn’t miss…” Thank the lord their shouting voices had ventured too far away by this point for me to have to endure any more of the song.

But no. None of the three had been Godotal. But I knew, Godotal would be here sometime this night.

So I waited…

And waited…

And waited…

I had forgotten to close the door and there then came bounding into the room a metal garbage can that bounced several times until coming to rest upright. Immediately the lid shot off from the top and a furry green creature poked its head out and spoke “Oh motherfucker I am so sick to death of all the stupid motherfuckers motherfucker. I mean the Goddamned crap I must endure and shit I have to put up with, up to here, fuckin over my eyeballs so that all I ever see is shit and man, how I’m so fuckin sick of it. And I have to perpetually listen to all these dumb motherfuckers laughing and singing, “Sunny day, everything is a-okay”. Go the fuck away. It’s not a sunny day. Darkness reigns eternal. And absolutely nothing is O-fuckin-k! Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street because I want to nuke the motherfucker! I am so Goddamned pissed off about each and every fuckin thing in this incessant, disgusting stupidity without pause that is life I just want to punch my fuckin hand through a window, that is if I even have fuckin hands, really what the fuck even are these things at the end of my arms? More like fuckin mittens for Christ

sake. And what the fuck is Snuffleupaguss? I always ask him that, dude, what the fuck even are you? Damn douche never even bothers to give me an answer, just some fuckin creation in the mind of how existence will be joyful, wonderful, have meaning and be happy and great. It’s bullshit, just a delusional construct to get you through the day. What came first? A Snuffleupaguss or a need for a Snuffleupaguss to con weak minds into a belief that all of the shit somehow had meaning just to get you through your days with some idiotic fairy tale that if only you believe then one day you’ll be rewarded and can enter the gates of the kingdom of Sesame Street. Well guess what, there is no fuckin Sesame Street, and dumb motherfuckers believing there somehow is leads so many fools down Poppy street with a fuckin needle in their arm searching for some utopia that doesn’t and can’t fuckin exist. Sunny day? Oh no motherfucker, the day is really going to suck and you all piss me so much the fuck off I really only hope you’ll all just get the fuck out of my sight and fuckin die!”

I stared at the green, furry thingamagig creature a moment as he protruded from the garbage can with a bitter, sullen look on his face. “Um, want a cigarette?” I asked.

“Yeah, actually I could kind of use one, thanks. And you got any booze?” the green, furry, thingamagig replied.

“Duh. What are you drinking?”

“Don’t care, just something strong. Don’t even try and give me wine. Fuckin hate wine, and what, it has about the alcohol content of fuckin baby food.”

I spoke with a mocking tone, “Where’s the new wine, dying on the vine.”

Green furry thingamagig then declared dismissively, “Egotistical self-absorbed douche. Damn straight I’ll light your fire when I pour a can of gasoline over your head and light a match.””

“I have some absinthe that has actual wormwood in it that I only drink for special occasions, want that?”

“O.k., that’s just fuckin cool, yeah give me that.” declared green, furry, thingamagig.

“It’s also like 140 proof or something.” I added.

“O.k., that’s really fuckin cool, definitely give me that.” Eagerly declared green, furry, thingamagig.

“What’s your name?” I asked so that I would no longer have to refer to him as green, furry, thingamagig.

“Oscar.” he answered.

And so Oscar and I just sat there, smoking our cigarettes and drinking.

“Pretty fuckin crappy fuckin day, isn’t it Oscar?” I declared, taking a drink.

“Really fuckin crappy fuckin day.” said Oscar, taking a drink as well.

“Completely, really fuckin crappy fuckin day.” I then announced, taking another drink.

“Completely, really fuckin crappy, fuckin day.” Oscar echoed with a groan.

“Whatever, fuck it.” I stated, taking a drink.

“Yeah, fuck it.” grumbled Oscar, putting his cigarette out on the inside of his garbage can as he did. “Well, gotta go, got a bunch of bullshit I have to do. Fuckin bullshit, it’s all fuckin bullshit. Whatever, fuck it.”

“Ah, um, do you need some help, ah, I mean the garbage can, you know, getting it out of here?”

“Fuckin thing just bounces all over the fuckin place. Bounces up, crashes down, bounces back up, crashes back down and how the hell do you think it feels to be a green thingamagig trapped within the damn can, crashing around inside, like a fuckin supposed sail boat crashing around in a fuckin bottle. But, bottle him so it’s declared by the powers that be. Fuckin bullshit!”

“It’s all fuckin bullshit isn’t it.” I declared.

“It is all fuckin bullshit. Well, I’m off.” With that the lid leapt from the floor to once again cover the garbage can and then the garbage can launched off the floor and out the door.

No, that had not been Godotal in that garbage can. But I knew, Godotal would indeed arrive here this night, I knew it. Um, probably not arriving in a garbage can I imagined. But he would show himself this night and all my questions would be answered, all my problems solved. And so…

I waited…

I waited…

And I waited…

And then…

Having again forgotten to close the door, there then entered into the room, two men, one wearing a ridiculous looking top hat, the other, shorter, wearing glasses, following dutifully behind. The shorter man then spoke “Good day sir, it is my pleasure to announce the arrival of the renowned Dr. Squoosh. I am his loyal assistant and we are here today to present to you with word the wondrous glory and beauty and wonderful splendor that is life. Oh, he of written word of magnificence, dear Dr. Squoosh, please begin. It is your time on the stage good man”…

DR. SQUOOSH: Serenity, harmony, serendipity, another step in the life of me. Sever dreams to set myself free. Freedom a word, the concept absurd, most ridiculous notion I’ve ever heard. Forever marching down your path, suffering your hate filled wrath, drown down within your bath, misery and pain, need to do, cannot even try to feign, chapters from the memoirs of the insane, my life it is an open book, so sit back, get comfy, take a look. Sit gently upon thy toosh. To hear the tale of Dr. Squoosh.


DR. SQUOOSH: The sun rested gently up in the sky, so many worms upon the ground it did fry, of course, But it also cast its gaze upon a horse, Who actually kind of liked the sun, thought it was fun, just batted its tail against itself, a thousand uncruel lashes, actually soothing, to pass yet another placid day tied to a post. Of course the worms on the sidewalk they did roast. Get turned to toast. Shriveled, wrecked carcasses of the worms they used to be.

ASSISTANT: Ah, Dr. Squoosh, let’s see.

DR. SQUOOSH: Birds gently perched up on a tree, looking around, chirping, so they could see, the procession that passed them by, but inside the birds did secretly cry, and they indeed knew the reason why. For as mortals walked, in hearts the mortals did fly, while the birds knew they were only born to die. The last images the birds did see. Smiles, as they dropped down dead from their tree.

ASSISTANT: Um, Dr. Squoosh, really.

DR. SQUOOSH: Yesterday was fun, yet done, so let us start another one, stare up into the blessed sun, and then go and buy a gun. To put a bullet through my fuckin head. Motherfucker how I wish I was dead.

ASSISTANT: Um, o.k., forget the words just said. Dr. Squoosh start again.

DR. SQUOOSH: I woke up with a smile, which I will wear all the while, as I suffocate beneath the pile, of all life’s shit pouring down on me, my only remaining dream is to no longer be.

ASSISTANT: Ah, um, ah, let’s see. This is not starting very well. Seek to reveal to the reader heaven, showing instead a glimpse of hell. But you are Dr. Squoosh! And so I say to the reader Furkumsqiclalyhoosh. By the end, I do declare, the reader will sit and stare, at the glory and wonder and greatness of life. For each day it be a blessing, happiness doth abound. Just take a look around.

DR. SQUOOSH: Then die in hell without a sound.

ASSISTANT: Oh so help me. Dr. Squoosh, you are not doing your job well, so begin again your story to tell. One of optimism, hope and of glee, not of emptiness and misery. There is a canvas presented before your eyes, your brush strokes determine if nightmare cries or smiles of happy, so stop writing words so bleak and crappy, optimism is your friend, so travel with it to the end. So find your bearing, for our goal here is to be sharing, what we know unequivocally to be true, and so now that is what we will do. We are here to put on display the wonder and glory of life. For everybody has a life.

DR. SQUOOSH: Think you should analyze that statement, because some do not have a life, instead some have a knife, by their own hand or the powers that be, at their wrists, at their throat, fighting to get up from the ground, their heart buried at the tomb above their bloody knee. The way it shall forever be.

ASSISTANT: Oh so help me. Dr. Squoosh, what the hell is wrong with you. Put your foot in the other shoe. You know damn well what to do. All bad thoughts thou must eschew. Life it be a grand, jolly stage, so merrily exit from thy cage, and so create a brand new page, with words of wisdom for the masses, me thinks sir you might need glasses, for thou  

art failing miserably to see the glory that life so be. So let us begin again shall we.

DR. SQUOOSH: Mindfucked misery, drowning beneath a sea, of that which shall never be, rot perpetually throughout dream of hell eternity.

ASSISTANT: Dr. Squoosh, what the woosh! Shushamushafushamoosh! Dost thou know not, a better way to look at life there is, or hath thou just forgot? Please, dear Dr, Squoosh, see things in a different light than what you spout, this hopeless, nightmare, broken night. That is what you need to see. For if you do it then you will be. Happy. So Dr. Squoosh, let’s begin again shall we.

DR. SQUOOSH: Mothefuckers fuck you all, so motherfuckin sick of the motherfuckin wrecking ball, just wish a motherfuckin end to it all, so fuck off motherfuckers and fuck off all y’all.

ASSISTANT: Oh Jesus Christ Dr. Squoosh. Do you not know what you are? Goddammit Jim, I’m a doctor not a barber! Ah…I have no clue what that could possibly mean. But you are Dr. Squoosh. Your role in life is to rescue sad souls from doom and gloom, unlock their tomb, lead them from their coffin, do so often, so all may smile and see the day, and play, upon the land, directed by your hand, maestro of loving life, so stop jabbing them with a rusty knife. Life…is…good. Preach that wisdom, and let the reader know, the way things go, as great as today was, tomorrow will be better because…In other words, stop screwing around Dr. Squoosh!

DR. SQUOOSH: Merrily, I verily set outeth uponeth my way. Happy for the gift of a brand new day.

ASSISTANT: Better Dr. Squoosh.

DR. SQUOOSH: I laughed, I don’t know why, laughed so much I began to cry.

ASSISTANT: Easy Dr. Squoosh.

DR. SQUOOSH: And the tears they then did stream, as I tried to remember a forgotten dream, fell to the ground and began to scream.

ASSISTANT: Getting off track Dr. Squoosh.

DR. SQUOOSH: And on the ground ocean’s I did cry, wishing only that I could die.

ASSISTANT: You know what, fuck you Dr. Squoosh. You are screwing this up! Don’t you realize, understand, life is what you make of it, you just have to guide it by your hand. And if you do, you shall not be buried beneath the avalanche of a barren sand. Boot strap

pull up I believe is called for, for if you do, life it will be an open door, so that thou might make thy exit from the land of nevermore. Re-enter the haven that you swore, and all the trappings that it bore.

DR. SQUOOSH: And how the heart and soul it did tore. And what for? To stare up blindly from the earth, dreaming of a never had birth. Wondering why the fuck why, life never the bedtime story lullaby. So on your bed alone you cry. Rivers, torrents, endless screams, the dead they know forgotten dreams, endless brutal escapade, life’s ever wondrous dumbfuck parade.

ASSISTANT: Oh so motherfuckin help me Dr. Squoosh, what in hell is wrong with ye, dost not thou know if you choose happy thou can be. So set thyself free, life is wonder and glory. That reality please do see. So let us please begin again shall we.

DR. SQUOOSH: They say life is what you make of it. So I set out this day to not make shit. Was progressing actually swimmingly. But alas my goal was not to be. Around four, accidently kicked the door, broke a toe, shortly after had to go.

ASSISTANT: You’ve got to be kidding me Dr. Squoosh.

DR. SQUOOSH: I, Dr. Squoosh, sat back and upon life reflected, all of the reasons I had to smile. I could not think of a single fuckin one.

ASSISTANT: Look, Dr. Squoosh I give up. You are beyond hope.

DR. SQUOOSH: I couldn’t agree more.

ASSISTANT: No, Dr. Squoosh, your writing is supposed to bring laughter and smiles. You know, writing about breakfast choices and hats and shit.

DR. SQUOOSH: I wrote about shit. Did you not read the sentence just a little while ago?

ASSISTANT: No, that’s not what I mean you douche! Look, Dr. Squoosh, a shooshaplooshamoosh!

DR. SQUOOSH: O.k., time out, what exactly is this inane gibberish you keep spouting?

ASSISTANT: Why it be the musings of the trangloffeter, the wumpafofteffefer!

DR. SQUOOSH: Not that inane gibberish, I’m referring to the crap about life being a gift, good, wonderful and grand, how it is what you make of it, can be happy if guided by the correct hand. Dude, that’s just bullshit. Life is but a broken hour glass, sands spilling into nothing, silence, inner violence, screams echoing without a sound, lost souls never to be

found, buried nowhere wrapped in your shroud, the sun smiles behind a cloud, grey the color of the sky, released upon the canvas to forever die. And why? To try is a lie. So certainly apply. A new school of thought. For what the hell has it ever brought. But failed dreams, sickness, misery, the only picture you will ever see, the only world that will ever be. So by all means, stare out through the broken looking glass. And so declare—

ASSISTANT: Dr. Squoosh thou be an ass.

DR. SQUOOSH: Insane barrage of all the garbage. Victim of the triage to save the soul. Powerless who wish control. So let the dice roll. And take your second chance, fuck off to circumstance, why not begin the dance, with life your ever partner, so embraced, fuck off to hell you’ve faced, make it replaced with a smile, to be worn all the while, as you eloquently glide through life’s glorious ride. What the fuck do you think you could possibly say to lead me to not see a broken day? What could you possibly think you could impart to me, to make me see a new reality? So shut the fuck up and back the fuck up. I will drown within my burning town. The final flourish of the moron clown.

ASSISTANT: Dr. Squoosh. Look, Dr. Squoosh, your optimism level is off the charts but only because it never even made it onto the charts. I believe there might be some confusion as to what our purpose is here. We, Dr. Squoosh, are here to follow in the footsteps of the great Seuss, be an instiller of spiritual glee like the great Zeus! Strike mantra bolts of heaven down from the sky. Make all thoughts go by and by. So let us work together Dr. Squoosh. I’ll begin with a line and you take it from there. Now then. The cow with the fiddle and the happy monkey in the middle…Your turn Dr. Squoosh, your time on the stage.

DR. SQUOOSH: The cow with the fiddle and the happy monkey in the middle, you’re motherfuckin crazy if you think I’m going to fuckin sittle here and listen to this dumbass shit.

ASSISTANT: The cow with the fiddle and the happy monkey in the middle, here is where I’ll sittle and figure out the riddle of the meaning of life. A riddle easy to see, only one answer it could be, life is filled with glee, isn’t it great to be me!

DR. SQUOOSH: Dude, shut up.

ASSISTANT: Life is looking ever up, half full it is my cup, fubbily, wubbily sluckety flup.  

DR. SQUOOSH: Shut the fuck up.

ASSISTANT: No, why don’t you shut the fuck up Dr. Squoosh.

DR. SQUOOSH: Oh, I’m sorry. Pardon me but I was under the impression that your goal

here was to get me to speak and in so doing have me spout such idiotic nonsense as life is good, be happy, fa la la la la.

ASSISTANT: Yeah, it was but you’re doing such a horrifically bad job, at this point I just don’t want you to say another word.

DR. SQUOOSH: Another word.

ASSISTANT: Don’t say another word.

DR. SQUOOSH: Another word.

ASSISTANT: Dr. Squoosh, what did I just say?

DR. SQUOOSH: Another word.

ASSISTANT: You’re trying my patience Dr. Squoosh.

DR. SQUOOSH: Yeah I’m trying it but to be perfectly honest it really isn’t working.

ASSISTANT:This is not working Dr. Squoosh!

DR. SQUOOSH: I couldn’t agree with you more.

ASSISTANT: What the hell is wrong with you Dr. Squoosh?

DR. SQUOOSH: Many things.

ASSISTANT: How, how can you not look out at this glorious creation that is the world and not be happy for the gift of life. Why do you remain within the prison of gloom and doom, refusing to see that the door to your cell is open and you are free? Free to be, verily, happily. A sailboat gliding merrily upon the sea. You must always look on the bright side, always up, not down.

DR. SQUOOSH: Give to me one reason I should not put down the moron clown.

ASSISTANT: Contrary, you should indeed put down the moron clown so someone with a smile can take its place.

DR. SQUOOSH: I would never wear a smile upon my face.

ASSISTANT: Then the moron clown you must erase!

DR. SQUOOSH: Then that indeed I’ll do. (Dr. Squoosh pulls out an eraser and starts vigorously rubbing it on himself.) Not working.

ASSISTANT: For God’s sake Dr. Squoosh, I, I, I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or get angry.

DR. SQUOOSH: Why not laugh at the fact that life will only ever give you reasons to cry and get angry.

ASSISTANT: You know what, I’ve had it Dr. Squoosh! Screw you Dr. Squoosh! (the ASSISTANT grabs a full length mirror and smashes it over DR. SQUOOSH’s head. DR. SQUOOSH just stands there with no expression, blood pouring down his face.) Oh my God, what have I done? (the ASSISTANT starts crying) I’m sorry Dr. Squoosh, so very sorry!

DR. SQUOOSH: There, there, not to worry “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”[i]

ASSISTANT: Thank you Dr. Squoosh. I feel better now. You’re the best!

(DR. SQUOOSH and the ASSISTANT turn and exit the room.)


The End

No. Neither of the two men were Godotal. But I knew, I knew, Godotal would appear this night and his words of guidance would lead and so rescue me from the seemingly inescapable pit I found myself in. And so…

I waited…

And waited…

And waited…

And waited…

And waited…

But then…

You know I really need to remember to close the damn door. There then entered a man wearing a loincloth. He then, after closing the door behind him, began to speak.

“Deliverance unto me an end to all of suffering. Suffer not, end the rot, make it something you can say you have forgot, so tie the knot spiritually, with that which will set you free. Lead unto suffering unto me for I am who will set you free. From sufferance will come deliverance. So say your penance, and forever faith have thou, for life is never about the now, always of the tomorrow, so push yesterday back into its sorrow, so wipe the sweat of your toil off your brow, and declare fuck off to the here and now, it means nothing, it’s all about what one day will be, the beauteous future that you will see, and from your horrors you will be set free, and all of this because of me.”

“Yes, and you would be?” I asked, taking a drink.

“Why it is me, Joseph Christ.” as these words were spoken there was also the sound of a chorus sounding off Halleluljah, played on a tape recorder carried by Joseph Christ.

“Joseph Christ, and your claim to fame would be?”

“Well I am the brother of Jesus.” he stated proudly, smiling.

“So, what, expect some sort of appreciation, adulation, or guilt by association are you?”

“But I am the brother of Jesus. Jesus’ brother, so you know I’m the real deal, the genuine article, the prime minister of party land baby.”

I took another drink. “Prime minister of party land, is that your actual job title in the administration?”

“You know the prime minister is way up there in the cabinet baby.”

“What, so you’re saying you were tasked with the so important errand by your superiors of retrieving some old tupperware and got stuck.”

“The prime minister don’t ever get stuck, not when he’s driving his macho statement truck. Ha, Ha! Come on, hit me up high, you know I’m the man Stan.”

“No.” my succinct refusal.

“You won’t give me a high five or you don’t know I’m the man?” he asked.

“Both” I declared.

Joseph Christ’s face then snapped into a look of offended condemnation. “Sir thou hath just cast an inexcusable arrow at my ego and for that grievous sin I will now deprive you of the pleasure of my presence. Kindly open the door so that I might now leave.” demanded Joseph Christ.

“Open it yourself.” I replied.

“Hmph. I find you to be highly disagreeable and morally offensive and repulsive.” He took out and dropped a handkerchief at my feet.

“Why exactly did you drop your handkerchief at my feet?” I inquired.

“To prove to you what a despicable mongrel you are.” he stated with a sneer of indignation.

“Hmm, yes, consider it a success. In fact let me get the door for you so that you may now leave.”

“Ha!” Joseph Christ walked out the door then turned and faced me “You can’t put one over on the prime minister of—“

I shut the door and walked back to my chair.

No, that had not been Godotal. That was actually the prime minister of party land. But I knew, I knew, was certain, that Godotal would indeed reveal himself this night. There was no doubt. My faith was unbreakable.

And so…

I waited…

And I waited…

And I waited…

And I waited…

And then…

The doorbell rang. I raised myself from my chair, glass in hand, sipping from it as I walked. I opened the door and immediately outside was a large video screen and the sound of pounding drums and crashing cymbals and a bellowing voice, announcing with a roar “I am the all powerful Oz!” Drums rolling, strobe lights flashing, me closing the door, returning back to the chair, taking a drink.

And I waited…

And I waited…

And I waited…

And then…

The phone…

It rang…

It was…

It was…

It was Godotal…

And then, Godotal spoke his words of wisdom I had so been awaiting, the answer to my prayers, “Child, it is me, Godotal. And suffer no more for the answer I indeed do have. Child, from your darkness just turn and face the sun, for then all of life will be fun, and misery will so be undone, and then indeed you will have won, the war, regardless phyrric or complete battles lost, a never ending holocaust, bear truth to this wisdom I now here bore, open the door, to a brand new day, and all that is bad will go away. All you need to know is this, and then always happy shall you kiss. Become ringmaster of the happy times parade and when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”

There was then a lengthy pause as I reflected on the words thusly spoken…

“Are you motherfuckin kidding me? What in hell is this idiotic charade. How about when lemons give you life, make lifeinade.”

“Oh, no, no, no, must make lemonade.” declared Godotal.

“I don’t even fuckin like lemonade.”

“Well how about pink lemonade?”

“What the fuck even is pink lemonade? Pink lemons don’t even fuckin exist?”

“But they taste good.” announced Godotal.

“Well they’re not even fuckin real, so what possible difference could that make?”

“Life is only ever what you take from it. You can make a gallon of shit that you then swallow as you wallow, but is there not a better elixir to be made? When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” so declared Godotal.

“Really, that’s the fuckin best you’ve got. Excuse me, when exactly was it I enrolled in the culinary institute of life?”

“Why last September to be exact and I must inform you that your payment for the past semester is far past due so if you wish to continue as a member of the college you will need to pay up post haste, a check is perfectly acceptable, now then, here’s a pen.” answered Godotal.

“You are aware you’re talking to me on the phone.” There is then a knock at the front door. “Look Godotal, someone’s at the door so I gotta go. I can’t fuckin believe I was waiting around for when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I’m hanging up now Godotal, bye.” I hung up the phone, lit a cigarette, grabbed my cup and went to open the door. I opened it and standing there was Godotal.

He spoke while holding out a pen in his hand. “Here now, take the pen, please make the check payable to Godotal Culinary Institute Of Life.”

“Keep your fuckin pen, and a go fuck thyself to your university, your fuckin college never actually taught me how to make anything that didn’t make me want to fuckin vomit.”

“Hmm, child, you seem to be a bit downtrodden. You know I think you could really benefit from some inspiration and words of wisdom from the real Godotal.”

“I thought you were Godotal.” I responded with confusion.

“Tell you what, let me go get him, be right back.”

The man I thought was Godotal then left as I stood there, taking a drink from my cup, smoking a cigarette. I was actually relieved that had not been Godotal himself for it meant I still had hope that when the actual Godotal revealed his wisdom to me, all would indeed be well, and I could indeed bid good day to hell, and I would be truly done with it, and so would finally end all of the shit.

The man who I had originally thought was Godotal returned, but this time he was wearing a baseball cap. “Greetings child. Worry no more, I am here to open the door, to happiness, with my saving grace. For I am Godotal. Remember this and all will be well, life every moment swell. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Um, but bear in mind last semester’s tuition needs to be paid. Here’s a pen.”

“Keep your fuckin pen you douche. And you do, of course realize I’m not actually enrolled in any fuckin actual physical culinary institute. It was a fuckin metaphor, a sardonic joke.” I took a drink.

“Oh certainly we do teach metaphor at Godotal-U, and jokes, why yes indeed, Comedy 101 is one of one of our most popular comedy courses, this course, of course, being of course the only one. Oh I think you’ll fit in well here at Godotal-U. Now then about the first semester’s tuition. Here’s a pen.”

“There is no fuckin Godotal-U, and I don’t want your fuckin pen and I’m not writing you a fuckin check!” I barked.

“Certainly a credit card would be acceptable.”

“You’re not getting any fuckin money you douche!” I angrily shouted.

“Hmm, I am definitely detecting that you are in distress. You know what I think would help you?”

“Let me guess, words of wisdom from the real Godotal.”

“Exactly! Now then, just let me go and get him. One minute.” Godotal then exited as I stood there and smoked and drank. After about a minute Godotal returned, only he was now wearing a straw hat and had thrown a poncho over what he was wearing. He outstretched his arms and spoke. “Child, it is me, Godotal!”

I took a long drink, then a long drag. “Oh joy, my salvation is finally here.”

“Child. I want to personally invite you to Godotal Universidad, located in Sunny Mexico. Where, to get away from the heat of the sun, you can reflect on our motto as you sit in the shade. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Of course, as for the tuition, cash is preferred, American dollars, but pesos would be possible.”

“Look, drop it already, I’m not going to give you any fuckin money and just stop saying that damn useless line. It was in no way helpful the first time, less and less so with its repetition. So what you’re doing is bringing me to less than nothing. Thank you oh so much for your unquestionable wisdom you douche.” I stated with an absolute heaping of unmistakable sarcasm.

“Hmm, I am picking up on a possible hint of maybe some slight smidgeon of dissatisfaction. Hmm then, let’s see, lets see, let’s see. Oh, I think I have the solution. Let me go get the real Godotal. Just hold on a moment, this will solve everything. Brilliant chap he is. Hold on now.” Godotal exited out the door as I stood there, drinking from my cup, smoking a cigarette. Godotal returned a couple minutes later. He was no longer wearing the straw hat and poncho. Instead he was wearing a beret and an obviously fake thin moustache. “Why bonjour child, it is me Godotal!” He spoke with, what was most likely the worst French accent ever attempted.

“Why Godotal, how hath thou been? It truly has been so long.” I took a drink.

“Oh been well, been well, tres bien. Tres bien certainmant.”

“Opening a branch of Godotal-U in France are we?” I asked, thinking I already knew what the answer would be.

But Godotal answered dismissively. “Oh no, no, not at all, campuses just in the United States and Mexico.”

“Hmm, I’m actually surprised.”

“No, no, no, no campus for Godotal-U in France, no, no. In France we are just christening the maiden voyage of Godotal cruises!”

“My, you certainly do wear many hats.”

“Why yes indeed I do. Why I’m actually, aside from owner of the company, the pilot of the cruise ship itself.”

“Are people who are actually controlling the ship actually called pilots?” I asked.

“To be perfectly honest, I really don’t know.” answered Godotal.

“You don’t actually know but you are one?” I observed.

“Yes, indeed.” he stated.

“Lovely.” I took a long drink.

“You see, Godotal Cruises goal is to set sail with its occupants to the island of happiness. The voyage that is life. For sometimes you will hit choppy waters but when upon Godotal cruise ships you can weather any storm adversity could possibly throw at you as you calmly, smoothly sail to that blessed island, always remembering along the way, when gone awry, your best plans you laid, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”

“Will you stop fuckin saying that, if you don’t so help me. Christ, I put all of my hope in your hands that you would impart upon me wisdom and a meaning to life, a reason, peace and happiness, and all I get out of you is that damn phrase. That is the extent of your wisdom and life guidance? That is somehow supposed to solve all my problems and vanquish hell. You know, to possibly believe that useless crap you spout has the slightest iota of meaning, think I’d first have to drink the Kool Aid.”

“Um, no it’s lemonade. Though, what if Kool Aid makes a lemon flavor? And I must

admit I am actually quite fond of the aid spelling, makes you feel like it is really helping you, Yes, yes. The ever wise guide that is Godotal has just deciphered another of the mysteries of the secret to life, prosperity, happiness and peace, which I will now share with this memory tool to remember to forever keep you on track to this blessed existence, so guided by my benevolent hand. Now then.” He cleared his throat. “When life gives you lemons. But you want life to be cool. Drink the Kool-Aid.” Godotal paused then nodded his head contentedly with a beaming smile. “There, there child. Did I not tell you that all would be well, that I would sweep in and save the day, make all pain and misery go away, ensure that glory, beauty, wonderment would forever be there to stay? Drink the Kool-Aid my son, drink the Kool-Aid. But now I must be off. For there are other lost souls I should attend to. I am merely happy I was able to help. No, no, no, I do not wish gratitude. If though, you do wish, for you, to express your appreciation then by all means buy a round trip voyage on Godotal Cruises. Very reasonable rates let me add, an abundance of entertainment options, and quite roomy cabins with free continental breakfast. And next time you are feeling down, please, just remember, when life gives you lemons but you want life to be cool. Drink the Kool-Aid. Godotal has spoken, so let it be written so let it be done. Good day son. May your day only be fun. Ah, but how could it not be.” Godotal chuckled three self-satisfied little laughs then walked out the door, pulling it closed behind himself. I walked over and filled my cup then took a drink, then another, then filled it to the top again. I walked over and sat on the chair. I pulled out and lit a cigarette and took a drag. I drank again from my cup…

So exit the stage, or vent your rage, or continue to rot within your cage, you’ll never turn the story to a new page.

Wait just another moment more…

And within your room stare at the sealed door.

Then try, if possible, to realize something not completely fuckin dumb.

Godotal. He ain’t ever gonna come.

Goodbye. Goodnight. And God bless.


© Copyright 2019 xavier damon. All rights reserved.

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