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It just might not be true every time.
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NICE GUYS... ALWAYS FINISH LAST
In the stranger’s house the vidcom pinged for
the first time in a very long time, but it was just
an email.
Dear stranger,
I hope you’ll forgive me calling you that, but
it’s what you are to me. We haven’t met,
nor have we ever exchanged any form of communication.
I expect you’re wondering why I am writing to
you. Well, here’s the thing. Out of the
millions of email addresses in the world my little
random selection program chose yours. So you, though
you may not think so, have the privilege of being
the recipient of my last ever email.
You’re reading this and already you’re
thinking ‘what the fudge?’ (I’m not
allowed to swear, you see) and I can understand that.
But please bear with me and read this to the end. I
have seen and experienced very little of this big,
wonderful and beautiful world in which we live. Time
hasn’t been on my side. So I would like you to
consider getting out of your chair, walking to the
window and taking a good look outside. But
don’t just look at what you can see, look
beyond the horizon. Look to the far shores and
foreign lands that are out there for you to discover
and enjoy. Don’t read National Geographic,
live it; don’t read travel brochures, write
them; and don’t think about your family, visit
them and tell them you love them.
These and many other things will make the world a
better place for you, and for those around you.
I think I’m out of time now, so I’ll
just say ‘thanks for listening’ and I
hope you heard what I told you.
Your friendly stranger,
Malcolm
In Malcolm’s house the vidcom pinged, the
stranger had sent a reply.
Malcolm,
What the fudge? Why not come out and say it like it
is… WHAT THE FUCK? You snot-nosed little shit. You
know nothing of me, and my life, and you have the
nerve to tell me what to do?
I hope your Mama bitch slaps you from here to next
week just to stop you from annoying strangers, who
just happen to be happy with their life just the way
it is.
And as for family, shit. If you knew my family,
you’d burn the family album.
Looking out the window? Hah! I can’t get outta
my chair ‘cause I got bad legs, and I
ain’t got no money for no hover chair. It hurts
me just to walk to the bathroom and back.
I hope that I never get to hear this shit from you
ever again.
Just call me,
Pissed Off.
In the stranger’s house the vidcom pinged, a
reply from Malcolm’s house.
Dear Pissed Off,
Thank you for replying to Malcolm’s email.
Fortunately he didn’t get to read it as he died
shortly after his was sent. Having suffered severe
muscular dystrophy, chronic asthma and other less
severe complications for most of his life he knew
the value of getting out of his chair.
He knew and he tried to be a nice guy and let you
know what you are missing. Because he knew first-hand
exactly what he was missing in his short life.
I am sure that he would have been heart-broken at
your response, but that said, he would still have
wished for you to live the life that he never could.
Whatever you may think, or say, it doesn’t
matter. I’m sure that you believe that nice
guys always finish last, and that’s why you
have such great expectations of a better life. You
think that you are avoiding the fate of the nice guy.
Well, in this case, I’d say that the nice guy
has beaten you to it. He has gone to a better place
ahead of you. He has left you and your cynicism and
sarcasm behind and he is living the life he so
richly deserved while he was here.
You may call me
Malcolm’s mother.
In Malcolm’s house the vidcom never received
another message from the stranger.
In the stranger’s house the vidcom never pinged
again.
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