Indecisive Monsters

The first stop I make on my trip is at a quaint little diner in Louisiana for some quaint little diner food. The waitress there tells me I look like a guy with a lot on my mind. I tell the waitress that I feel like a guy with a nuclear bomb in his trunk on his way to L.A. to try and blow up the giant monster that has been terrorizing the city for a month now. She laughs uncomfortably at this. I listen to her force small talk by regurgitating facts about the monster that she heard on the news. She gives me a funny look when I ignore her and order my food; “the best damn French toast in Louisiana” the menu says. I’ll be the judge of that. She asks me if I’ll have anything else. I ask if she has any extra little notepads she takes orders with. She gives me one out of her apron. I figure it’s a good a thing as any to write my suicide note down on. It will be easier than telling my friends and family my intentions and risking them trying to stop me. A different waitress delivers my food with the same funny look as the last one.

The next diner I stop at is on the other side of Louisiana. By now I have decided on a topic to begin my note with. Most people will be more interested in how I got my hands on a nuclear bomb rather than why I am using it to sacrifice myself to kill a giant monster. To be honest I can’t give you the entire story on how I got it. I’ll start by saying that I live in a retirement community in Florida, even though I am 29. My grandfather left it to me when he died, and I was able to work out a deal so that I could live there, despite being under the age limit. The old people that live around me are very appreciative when I offer to help out with their yard work. The old people that live around me are always trying to find ways to pay me back for helping them out even though I always tell them that it isn’t necessary. The old people that live around me took me seriously when I said I would like a nuclear bomb to blow up the monster that has been terrorizing California. It was delivered to my house within two weeks with a little detonator that I keep with me at all times. I packed it up and headed out on my trip that very day. It was easier than standing around asking questions. I decide that the French toast is better at this diner than at the last one before I continue on my road trip. 

I find myself at the Last Little Diner in Texas, and although I relatively keep to myself, I feel compelled to have a conversation with a complete stranger, who also happens to be a native of Texas. After he sits down at my table, I realize that he is just way too god damn friendly to ask him to leave. Pretty soon I am telling him the reason I am headed to L.A., and decided I might as well take notes while I talk to make up the second part of my suicide note. He asked me if I knew someone in L.A. I told him that I did, but they were more than likely dead. He asked if I was going to try looking for them when I got there. I told him no, it would probably be easier to not get my hopes up and do my best to do what I set out to do. He seemed to understand. I thanked him when he paid for my breakfast.

To tell you the truth the real reason I’m headed out to L.A. is because of my guilty conscious. My brother wanted to be an actor, but he is an alcoholic. While he was recovering, I reluctantly let him stay at my house. He didn’t last through the recovery stage very long. I had very limited patience for him. He went to L.A. after I kicked him out of my house. I imagine he didn’t last long out there with all the temptation of drinks and drugs. He got swallowed up by that city just like its being swallowed up now by that monster. I’m just as much of a monster as either of them, and can’t go on living with the guilt. I should have tried harder to keep him living with me, until I knew he was getting better. It’s just seemed easier at the time to let him go. So I’m on my way to kill three birds with one nuclear bomb. I’m writing all this down in my note while I’m thinking of it.

On my last diner stop in Arizona, while chowing down on what was probably going to be my last meal, I look out the window to see my car driving away with someone who wasn’t me in the driver seat. Not wanting to report the car stolen and have to possibly explain the nuclear bomb in the trunk, I continue having my meal as planned. During my meal I conclude that maybe L.A. and this big monster aren’t to blame. The blame really deserves to fall on all the people that have made this world what it is, and who have made it possible for people like my brother to fall down the wrong path. I also begin to rationalize my original plan and wonder what exactly I was planning to do if I even got the bomb into L.A. I agree with myself that it was for the better that my car was stolen. I put my sunglasses on and grab the detonator out of my pocket and think I should just settle on killing one bird with one nuclear bomb, because it just seems easier than my original plan.