Perhaps No Postcards

There’s a website called www.PerhapsPostcards.com where I make art, shrink it onto stationary of all kinds and then try to sell it.  I’m satisfied with it generally, despite its lack of sales or tangible results.  Yesterday, I had an idea about naming another website www.PerhapsNoPostcards.com where there would be no selling of anything but instead, general attempts at humiliation and put-downs about nobody ever buying anything from Perhaps Postcards.  I would enjoy pitting the two against each other (it would satisfy my need for balance) and then riding the tide of battle, sprung from my own conceit, out into the murky waters of the unknown. 

I would give control of the new website over to the evil genius side of my personality whose petty insults and unhappy terrorism would both oppress and disturb.  The bright and cheerful simpleton now running Perhaps Postcards would be hard pressed to respond, patiently enduring then finally erupting in a terrible and uncontrolled onslaught where nothing is sacred, postcard or otherwise, and where none could wish to escape unmarred.  There would be war between the two sides, yes war, and the small part of me that retained any notion of decency would sit uncomfortably, alone and lonely, in a cave of doubt and regret contemplating, waiting. 

Barbs of wrath would sing like shrapnel.  Shards of misery would fly unmercifully.  Destruction becomes self. 

Exhausted and encumbered from the toil of attack, my consciousness would look upon the strife, seeking no repose, and fight.  Unbidden, some small important part of myself would undoubtedly slip and a small spontaneous giggle would titter forth from some depth, some vein of disorder buried within, that would build to frenzy.  My body would involuntarily take up this mania and from my lips would spring a howl of laughter so saturated with wretchedness and rife with hatred that the last breath of life and promise I held within would be stolen away with it.  My empty and wrecked body would crumple down, near-silently, to the floor and lay solid, never again to feel the blows that killed it.