How to be Happy

Start off by retrieving a pair of matching socks. Matching socks are special: mated for life, able to spend weeks at a time together without growing bored or resentful, impervious to jealousy even as they watch their significant other dance with a sea of foreign socks during the tumble cycle. They have achieved the level of love that we all strive towards.

Take the husband of the two socks in your hand.

Light him ablaze.

Force the lover to watch her true love fall strand by blackened strand into the garbage pail below. Leave her a strand, a little something to remember true love.

Next turn your inattention to the television. The popular one. The life of the party. The glowing ‘I-can-spout-out-the-exact-same-shit-i-did-yesterday-and-you-will-still-hang-on-every-word’ narcissist.

First, push him off his lofty perch into an open moving box. Tape shut all the sides. Stage a conversation, imitating the voices of a few of friends. Talk viciously of the fallen. How much nicer the new centerpiece is. How you only put up with the old model because he hooked you up with some ace dope. How you frequently sneak off to watch adult materials on his mother’s box.

Placate the televisions’s yells from within their cardboard coffin with your best impression of a tablet.

Now get a couple of crayons. Walk over to your bookcase and choose a tome at random. Open her to any page and choose a paragraph. Savor for a moment the care, dedication and precision that went into assembling these lines. The brow-furrowing hours spent making sure each word perfectly interlocked with the others to form a glittering beauty more magnificent than any of the words individually.

And crayon in hand, begin illustrating all over her. Draw any and all crude images that enter your mind:  feces-throwing chimps, phalli, consensual gay marriage. When you finish that, scan the pages and cross out any words longer than six letters.  Repeat with the other books, dropping them to the ground afterwards.

When the shelves are bare, take a moment to stand back and laugh at all the intellectuals– exposed, shivering and violated on the marble floor.

Continue on, stopping in each room in the rest of your household. Bake the microwave and nuke the pots. Get mud on the end of the garden hose, in that one spot it can’t quite reach. Feed the pillows a handful of no-doze caffeine supplements.

Leave the toilet be.

Once you complete your tour of duty, everything in your home should now be more miserable than you are. Hence making you the happiest being in the vicinity.  Since it would be irrational to be the happiest without actually being happy, you must therefore be happy.

Congratulations on your new found happiness.

© 2017 by Edwin Poché. No animals were (especially) harmed in the making of this site.

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