Kev (34 page)

28. Thou shalt not offer advice of any kind. Do I
need to spell this out? I mean, are there other words I should use
that will stop any of you from doing this? I think not. You all
have free will, of course, and I know that you will go about your
merry way and break this rule, but I have to say, you are making
the game far less entertaining by doing so. Maybe someday you will
all learn. I know what you are thinking. This is just another
version of the don’t help me in any material way rule. Well, you’re
right, but I think I need to repeat myself to you. Even now I see
that this hasn’t sunk in for any of you. I swear I don’t know why I
bother. Does that booger taste good, Aputi? Is that more important
than listening to me? Remember, I can send you back to your home
planet any time I want. Consider yourself warned. Anyway, I know
this is really just a repeat of the no material assistance rule,
but I find it necessary to repeat myself.

29. Thou shalt not attempt, in any way whatsoever,
to turn the Canadians into a bunch of nihilists. Clive, are you
listening to me? I know you think this is really funny, but I have
to say, they deserve better. I mean, what did they ever do to you?
Do you think they really want to end all creation? Why not find
some other plot twist? You truly are a piece of work, you know. Of
course, I only make this rule to prove a point, that point being,
you are a willful, disobedient boy. Perhaps you should reflect on
that for a while rather than brainwashing a bunch of innocents.

30. Thou shalt not try to get me to drink green tea
in an attempt to “enlighten” me. Again, don’t let boredom drive
your decisions. I will drink green tea when I want to, when I am
ready to. I don’t need you pushing it on me all the time. Ruby,
girl, and Clive, I’m looking at you. Don’t do it.

31. Thou shalt not, and I mean this sincerely,
reveal to me that I am the creator of green tea. You have to
understand that this is a terribly serious breach of protocol and
falls under the giving me material assistance category, if you get
my meaning, girl. I know you weren’t listening and I am not going
to repeat myself. Don’t stick your tongue out at me, you imp!

32. Thou shalt not attempt to bring me to Surth Beta
and get me to connect to the brain in a vat. I will go there
eventually, without your assistance. This rule is part of the not
giving me material assistance rule, but I thought it necessary to
break it out because of the future actions of the girl and Clive.
You both know what I’m talking about.

33. Thou shalt not send messages about the
Flogulator to my communications device. I think this is in very
poor taste and want it to stop. Maybe it was funny the first time,
but it has gotten really stale, and, I have to say, it is time it
stopped. Understood?

34. Thou shalt not ever tell me how to go to hell.
Bri? I know you’re going to do it anyway, but I think maybe next
game you might be so kind as to not do it. Please acknowledge, Bri.
Now, if at any point you want to tell me to go to hell, feel free.
I know you all think it is a terrible place, but I have to say, it
is a good reminder that not behaving has consequences. Are you all
paying attention? Clive? Bri, quit poking the sphere.

35. Thou shalt not kidnap Soph or indicate that you
have done anything that will make it impossible for me to see her
again, B24ME. Of course, you are going to do just that, and I know
your intentions are good, but you are just going to have to find
another way to get me on The Show. Soph isn’t just some means to an
end, you know. So, in advance, I want to say, bad form, B24ME. Bad
form, indeed.

36. Thou shalt not ever communicate anything to me
about Galthinon. Clive? Oh dear, you didn’t hear a word I said, did
you? Whatever. You won’t listen to me anyway, so what is the point?
I know you desperately want me to know you love me, but you know I
know this already. There is nothing you can say or do that will
make me believe you love me more than I know you love me. Do you
understand, Clive? Do you understand? Ruby, this goes for you as
well. Not one word about Galthinon.

37. Thou shalt love me. This is not really a rule.
It is more a statement of fact, and I have to say, I really
appreciate it. I love all of you more than you could possibly
imagine, another statement of fact.

I looked at my creations, each and every one of
them, and said, “One last thing, everyone. Don’t you think making
fun of my name, the name I have chosen for myself, an absolutely
wonderful name, is just a little bit tired? I mean, what is wrong
with Kev? It is a perfectly acceptable name, and further, one with
great meaning. Of course, none of you truly know what it means, and
given that you all think it is fun to ridicule me and question my
parents’ intellectual abilities or their sobriety, I do not intend
to tell you what it means.”

“It means, ‘kill every vulture,’” laughed Clive.

“Lovely, Clive,” I said, “I see you are not happy
just killing people.”

“No, it means, ‘kool effervescent vibrator,’”
shouted the girl.

“I think it means ‘Kev eats Venetians,’” chimed
B24ME.

“What about ‘Kev ever vacant?’” said the sphere.
Everyone laughed at that.

“I think it means, ‘kill Eric Victor,’” said Aputi,
now serious, averting his eyes, as usual.

“Why on Earth would anyone want to kill Eric
Victor?” I said. “He is a wonderful fellow, one of a kind, as are
you all. Goodness, Aputi, you have quite a dark streak in you.”

“I have one,” said Bri. “Kinky escape vehicle.”

“I like that one,” said Ruby, now leering at me.

“I know what it means,” said Jesus.

Everyone looked at Jesus, Clive saying, “What does
it mean?”

“Kala Ela Vol,” said Jesus.

“What does that mean?” said the girl and the
sphere.

“I don’t know, but I know those are the words,”
replied Jesus, now looking at me.

All I could do was smile.

###

About Me (Totally)

Tall (truly, staggeringly, menacingly, unusually),
attractive (yes, a relative term, but one that maybe, at least in
my own mind, relatively applies to me), easy going (if you call
screaming at the television when I can’t find anything to watch
easy going), engaging (in a way that speaks to my inner introvert,
my reluctant external self, who, for better or for worse, prefers
writing books in a dark attic rather than enjoying time with
others, others who are, I am quite certain, quite wonderful, but
not quite as wonderful as writing in the dark), charismatic (I try.
Truly I do, but I think that is a big part of the problem),
energetic (perhaps I have misunderstood the meaning of this word,
but I believe waking up every morning by eleven thirty-seven
definitely qualifies me as quite energetic), active (look, writing
is truly a form of exercise. Writing twenty thousand words in a day
has to burn at least five thousand calories a day, right?),
athletic (um), intellectually stimulating (some people have said
this, but often follow it with something along the lines of “when
you are drunk.” This bothers me more than a little because I don’t
drink), versatile (no, wait, I’m not), even tempered (see easy
going), a true believer (in things you won’t believe), loving
(always), full of laughter (at your expense), discombobulated
(always), absent minded (yup), and vaguely vague in a vague sort of
way (a terribly important characteristic for a writer), I enjoy
spending my days playing badminton, chairing the anti-swimming
league, shooting rubber bands at my daughters, stapling flyers to
trees, looking for new and more interesting ways to describe
flatulence, saying things like, “Thou shalt not look at me this
way,” and “Thou shalt not look at me that way,” painting my fingers
different colors with nail polish, finger painting with nail
polish, sniffing nail polish, sniffing nail polish remover
(acetone, I believe. Wonderful stuff), yelling at my dog, who
insists on barking every thirty-seven seconds for no apparent
reason other than to drive me insane, thinking up stupid ideas that
really seem wonderful at the time I think them up (It’s called
mania, for those of you who don’t know), breaking stuff (I am an
expert), prank calling mortuaries, asking them if they’ve seen my
father (deceased), explaining that he disappeared from the mortuary
we sent him to and telling them that I believe he didn’t like that
one so I think he might be in theirs, leaving notes on cars
(usually the types of notes that express profound dissatisfaction
with the owner’s parking job), trying to hunt down my daughters,
daughters who have completely forgotten how to use a phone (at
least when it comes to calling me), reassuring my wife that I am
quite all right, and that if she would stop telling me to take my
medicine, I might actually take it, calling my psychiatrist and
telling him I feel kind of odd (he usually tells me he does too,
and that if we both would take our medicine we would feel
considerably less odd), calling my sister and telling her I have
died and that she needs to come find me (she gets it, you don’t),
expressing interest in things like surveys, promotions, new
products, miracle cures, and the like, breaking things (I know I’ve
already mentioned this, but it is a big part of my life, and it
should be a big part of your life, too. I mean, is there any
greater satisfaction to be had than from hurling a full, steaming
hot cup of coffee at a refrigerator and screaming, “Die?”), opening
the refrigerator, leaving the refrigerator open, leaving the toilet
seat up (this allows for better access to the bowl for inspections,
vomiting, and pictures), baring my soul (to my dog, who does not
quite understand that my soul is in jeopardy, and that it will only
be saved if she stops barking), performing modern dance (I dance
like a drunk giraffe (this should be easy to visualize if you
imagine the giraffe quite drunk, listening to something along the
lines of
Super Freak
, a quite appropriate song for a drunk
giraffe), and I have to say, while it isn’t for everyone, there are
those who tell me I am onto something), writing silly songs for my
daughters (Some day I’ll write out
Monkey Butts
in one of my
books, a lovely piece in D minor), playing bass (violently. This is
in some way a corollary to breaking things, although I don’t break
my basses (not often anyway)), writing love letters to my lovely
wife, which are often misconstrued as attempts to get out of doing
things around the house (absolutely not the case. I can say that
with utter surety, although, I have to admit that it would be nice
if they could get me out of doing things around the house), and
checking my tire pressure in front of my wife (I do this to
reassure her, in some small way, that I do, in fact, have some
modicum of ability when it comes to maintaining things. Of course,
she would argue, if I would allow her to get an argument in, that
this act is simply my way of proving how useless I really am, a
terrible thing to say (I never give her the chance to say this, of
course), but possibly the truth.) I live in Connecticut. I want to
live in Antigua in an absolutely wonderful place called Jumby Bay,
a place you should go if you have the means to do so (if you do go
there, watch out for the sheep. They are up to no good, I assure
you.) Interesting fact; I once performed on stage (at age seven, a
useless decoration and nothing more. No lines to speak of and a
complete lack of understanding of what I was supposed to do, which
resulted in me making funny faces at the audience the entire time,
causing my parents considerable embarrassment, which led to
chastisement and further alienation from them (truly, they are
wonderful people), which led to me write this book.) Last thing, I
swear. I am always interested in meeting new people and having
stimulating conversations, so if you think you would like to have a
truly stimulating conversation with me, feel free to send me an
email. My email address is
[email protected]
. Feel free to look up
the meaning of the word Barflurgle, and then feel free to make up
your own definition for the word (it is more of a sound, really),
when you don’t find a definition. I should warn you that I do not
check my email regularly, so if you do not get a response in what
you might deem a reasonable amount of time (note that a reasonable
amount of time for me is usually measured in eons), worry not. I
will eventually read your email, and I will likely respond to you
if I am not too busy writing in my dark attic.