flashback: Good Ol’ Don

Posted by Admin


the voice comes to me in the dark of night. it never fails. as i lie in bed just as i’m about to fall into a deep slumber, the voice pierces the night’s silence …to continue its nightly torment.

“they’re all laughing at you,” the voice begins, sounding not unlike a cross between Gary Oldman in Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Brad Garrett from Everybody Loves Raymond.

“who? you mean the folks in my neighbors, my family, ..distant cousins, ..my coworkers ..uummm… or my friends?” i ask in a half-dream like state.

“they all are. look at you. you’re pathetic. you’re an old man. and you’re trying desperately to feel like you’re making a significant positive impact within the community and the world at large but you know what? it ain’t working. you’re pathetic and insignificant. you ain’t foolin’ anyone. you’re life means absolutely nothing,” the voice cackles.

“are you finished, because i wanna get back to my beauty rest,” i say disinterestedly.

“shoot, i’m just getting started. your relationship with your kids is a joke. how can you call yourself a father? you barely spend quality time with them. do they even know you? and your wife? how long do you think she can keep deluding herself in thinking this so called marriage can work? it’s just a matter of time, you know. she’s gonna realize it’s just not worth all that effort, pack up and leave you.”

“yadda, yadda, yadda. i’ve heard all this before, oh strange and mysterious one. now let me get some zzzzzz’s,” i say, getting a bit irritated by the lack of any new revelations.

“OK, let’s see. ummmm, you’re totally in debt. you’ve dug yourself pretty deep, my friend. you ain’t ever gonna get your head above water. plus you’ve got so much to do to get this house in a presentable fashion. i mean, how are you going to invite all your friends over when you got stains all over the carpet, no formal dining room furniture, no formal living room furniture, and basically not a lot of anything. …. oh wait a minute, oh, i forgot, you HAVE no friends. i mean, you *know* some people and you can *invite* them over and stuff but can you really call them “friends”? who can you really confide in? who can you put your trust in? you don’t trust any of those people, ain’t that right? they can stab you in the back at any moment.”

“yeah, well, ummm, .. i like to keep to myself, you know… i’m, ..i’m self-reliant,” i stammer back.

“and what about faith? you call yourself a christian but you’re just going through the motions. where’s the fire? where’s the drive? how are you bearing “fruit”? you’ve lost that years ago. why even bother, my friend?” the voice’s deep tones reverberate within the pitch-black bedroom. “thanks. like i really need your help in getting depressed. anything else?” i ask just hoping the voice would just shut the hell up.

“let’s check the list here. ..your old, … your family … no friends… no faith.. no money. hhhmmmm. yup. i think i covered all the topics for today. don’t worry, i’ve got more for you tomorrow night,” the voice states with a hideous laugh.

“hey, i got two words for you. breath. mint. use it. man, for a disembodied voice you sure do have a mean case of halitosis” i say reacting to the smell not unlike that of sulfur.

“dude, that’s for effect. you know, to keep the whole evil mystique and all. i’m supposed to assault you on all fronts, including smell.”

“well, you know what, it ain’t workin’ for me. just work on your content. haven’t you heard? content is king!”

“you know, i’m going to be sure to swing by at a later time in the night when you’re more in that sleepy/comatose-state so that i won’t get so much back-talk from you.”

“yeah you do that. good night.”

“until next time ol’ friend.”