I went over to my friend’s house to play some games as usual.  We then realised that in order to play the game together, I had to go home.

It suddenly dawned on him that he was bored.  It was alllllllll the same.  He’d seen it alllllll before. It just could not get better than this.  Nothing would ever really surprise him anymore. It was over.  Without turning his head, he barked at the dog to shut up.

He had an okay job, one that didn’t earn enough so that he could actually feel grateful for his quality of life but, nodding to himself bitterly, it would do.  He had a loving partner.  He was too lazy to make any changes now, anyway, and risk starting all over again on his own.  Who’d pick him up now?  They said life began at 30.  He was 33 and more interested in leaving this life, as opposed to enjoying it.

Why didn’t anyone warn him about this?  Why did his parents fill him with aspirations?

He put his feet up on the polished coffee table.  He could feel the plastic legs pressing into the carpet with the weight of his own.  He sighed, and resigned himself to the fact that the only thing he’d be enjoying from now would be food, TV, games and alcohol.  Enjoying in the most meagre sense.

He decided firmly it was time to relent and have kids.

He also realised it was time to slap his parents.  And then himself, for he knew that to tell his children the truth about life would rob them of happiness completely.  He couldn’t break the chain.  He would keep them in a bubble as long as he could, let them live a lie, living in hope, chasing dreams of an impossible job, with an impossible wife and incredible holidays.  He supposed he had to thank his parents.

So that was it.  Time to join the fold.  Become a regular.   Still… there must be something else… something else that life could offer, something he could do before he became another meandering shell that lived only to support his kids dreams. Something out of the ordinary… something more than a bit different, something extreme, that he’d be able to look back on, smile and think – yes, I actually did it.

Wait!

Ah!

There it was.

The idea shone in the middle of his mind like a bright shiny thing in the dark.

He decided.

He would definitely kill all the jews.

Adolf rested the tip of his brush against the top of his lip, the hairs almost meshing with his moustache.  He’d make something of this life yet.  Standing up, it briefly occured to him that all this could be a sign of a mid life crisis, but he dismissed the crazy notion and continued to pack away his materials.

-Mate, listen.  It would be a great favour to me.

-No, I’m not doing it!

-I know what you’re thinking, you think I’m going to hate you-

-No!

-I tell you what, just get close enough for a kiss, you don’t have to kiss her.

-She’s your wife, you do it!

-That’s the whole point, she’s my wife, I can’t tell her… these things.  If you had a wife, I’d do it for you.

-No thanks, I’d do it myself!  She’s your wife… you share everything, you can tell her anything!

-You don’t know much about marriage, do you.

-Not the kind of marriage you seem to be in!  Just tell her the truth!

-Oh right, so you want me to go right up to her and say: “Darling, your breath smells of mouldy dates.”

-Yes!  She’s your wife, she needs to hear it from you, not a friend.

-You don’t know much about marriage, do you.

-Whatever!

-Alright… well how about if you have sex with her.

-What?  No!

-I need someone to tell her to trim her pubic hairs.  They’re a bit, you know,

-I don’t want to know!

-a bit like a shrubbery.  I’d prefer if it was… pruned.

-For the last time – I’m her friend, you’re her husband.  You tell her.

-I see.

-Good.

-You don’t want to tell her that her breath smells like barbequed racoon.  Fine.  How about if you put a mask on and robbed her?  Then you could tell her and she wouldn’t know it was you.

-I’m not listening to you anymore!  Lalalala…

-Alright!  Alright!

-Enough.  Yes?

-Ok.

-Good.

-You could sneak in at night, when we’re asleep, and whisper it to her.  You can stroke her hair, I don’t mind.