"Why me?" asked Tony. "Why does this sort of stuff always happen to me?"
"Because you are fighting the good fight," said Lady Sarcastia, with some level of comfort. "You only get hurt because you care. That is a strength, not a weakness. You have the inability to give up, and the resistance of your fate strengthens your character. I'd be more afraid if you noticed nothing in your life had gone wrong."
Tony sulked and chewed on his soft pretzel, now going a bit stale. "I don't want to fight anymore. I am sick of this. Why can't I have a normal life?"
"Returning to normalcy requires a model of comparison. Normalcy is the mean or average of all summed experiences, and thus, an abstract concept and not a physical thing independant of your own thoughts or will. Normalcy shifts according to mood."
"That's a lot of goth mumbo-jumbo," said Tony, standing up from the stoop. "The truth is, you are saying life is just not fair in fancy words."
Lady Sarcastia sipped her orange smoothie. "If you say life is not fair, what is your basis of comparison?"
"Death," said Koko, snapping out of her funk. "That's totally unfair. All those flowers, and for what? Too late. Then come the bees..." and she started to winggle her fingers in the air like she might have imagined a swarm of insects decending on the mourners.
"Death IS a part of life, Koko," said Sarcastia.
"Trouble is, you goths celebrate it too early! Sickness, death, bad facepaint. Little Lady Glumfrown and her cloud of poetic mourners wailing to the tune of a drunken lone piper on a hill. Spouting out words like a sprinkler of dispair, baptising other's ears with... crimminy, now I am talking like YOU!"
"See?" Sarcastia cracked a mild smile of victory, her lips shiny with orange smoothie. "Death always wins..."
This entry was originally posted at http://www.punkwalrus.com/blog/archives/00000274.html