99. Remy
July 7, 2008
Remy always knew who the unhappiest person on Earth was, at every moment. Who it was changed pretty frequently—maybe ten times a minute. Whatever was making them unhappy, Remy felt it. Most of the time, it was torture or starvation or thirst or a broken leg or a grievous head injury. Sometimes it was someone who had just discovered they had AIDS or cancer, or was really sick with a disease. A few times a week, the unhappiest person on Earth would be a girl who just discovered she was pregnant. Remy hated these women a little. He hated unrequited lovers. Even the kids whose dogs died he had to hate a little. That was nothing compared to having your children murdered in front of you. Or raped. He thought some of the world’s unhappiest people needed to chin the hell up.
Remy saw a lot of war.
Remy also knew who the happiest person on Earth was. This changed about as frequently as who was unhappiest. The happiest person on Earth was often having an orgasm. Remy had a lot of orgasms every day with the world’s happiest people.
You’d think that he would get a lot of lottery winners, but there weren’t very many. He got only slightly more lottery winners than newly pregnant. Prayers were happy people, though. Meditators were happy too. The dying were sometimes very happy. The happy dying were Remy’s favorites. Read the rest of this entry »
