For anyone new to this blog, I’ll fill you in on what’s been going on in my life. Due to my massive following of about 150 people, I had decided it was time to take it to the next level and fulfill a lifelong dream of becoming a cult leader. You can catch up by clicking the links. Or not.
So last week I went to city hall and asked, politely, if I could please get a permit for a cult. Though I plan on breaking all sorts of laws and cultural mores, I’d like the launch of our (and by “our” I mean “my”) cult to at least get off to a smooth start. I had the notion that maybe the Mayor or at least a couple of city councillors would attend the opening. Maybe even a photo op of a ribbon-cutting ceremony. I have big dreams.
Well, I was practically laughed out of the glass pyramid that is our city hall. Jeremy, an insolent peon with a bad comb-over and a moustache that looked like a sickly caterpillar clinging to his lip for dear life, told me, smirking, that no such permit exists. My fury rose up in me and I was never so desperate to have a cowering flock on which to vent my rage. Jeremy then closed his window and put up a sign in chicken scratch: “Gone for lunch.”
“May your computer be afflicted with a thousand viruses, Jeremy. From this day forth you are a sworn enemy of me and my minions,” I yelled. I may have even shaken my fist. Man, I really need to work on my curses.
The bugger did not even turn around but just gave a dismissive wave as walked back to an inner sanctum of cubicles where he no doubt would be having a bag lunch of tuna sandwiches.
“May the bread of your tuna sandwich be soggy, Jeremy.” Ugh! Now this was getting embarrassing.
I stood simmering and red faced, filled with impotent rage. I now know your pain, Martin Luther King. I too have a dream.
I sincerely hope you guys are appreciating all the work I’m doing. I wonder if there’s some sort of support group where I could talk to other potential cult leaders who could understand the work I’m doing. It’s lonely at the top.