Somewhere deep within the many folded recesses of Slackerninja’s dark, dank, rotting carcass of a brain lies a spot working overtime. Where the entire mind is in a state of decay this one specific area functions as pristinely as ever. Think of it as the only block in a blackened out neighborhood that has a generator up and running, as if untouched by the many vices of the world namely routine, work, drama and general bullshit that leaves us shot to pieces, frazzled and totally fucked up.
This hallowed space, ladies and gentlemen is the caffeine zone. With the right amount of caffeine ingested in the appropriate form (this case being a cinnamon ice blended coffee from Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf), magic happens. Though normal people call it retardation, for the sake of the delusionality of this post we’ll call it magic.
Having said that, we find our protagonist sitting in a room. Since he’s got the mental age of an obedient three year old what with having it drilled into his head by his mom that children should be seen not heard he plays a silent spectator (maybe because he’s strapped to a chair and straight jacketed as well?) to the drama that unfolds between an old war hero who’s saved the world more times then he’d like to remember, a Citizen Kane-esque Despot who built his own paradise underwater and the frontman of Nine Inch Nails. Oh and a certain whimsical photographer with a penchant for stealing the show. All dressed in attire out of your favorite medical dramedy of the week be it ER, Grey’s Anatomy or Scrubs.
Junk: So gentlemen, diagnosis?
Solid Snake: Slackerninja has changed. It’s no longer about games, fun or moments of pure awesome. It’s an endless series of fail meetings, drama and daily drudgery. Fail, and its consumption of life, has become a well-oiled machine. Slackerninja has changed. Carries his ID, his every movement is tracked , every move monitored, every decision questioned. All in the name of control. Coffee control. Alcohol control. Bowel control. Bladder control. Everything is monitored, and kept under control. Slackerninja has changed. The age of win has become the age of fail. All in the name of covering his ass. Slackerninja has changed. When his life is under total control, Slackerninja…becomes routine. *lights a cigarette *
Junk: Smoke that fag off your chest!
Solid Snake: What the hell?
Junk: Tobacco contains benzopyrene, which converts into benzopyrene diolate in the body, which attaches itself to the P53 gene of the lung, and causes certain pre-cancerous effects. I Stumble-Uponed it this morning.
Solid Snake: Oh..okay.
Andrew Ryan (looking straight at our chair strapped, the straight jacketed protagonist): I am Andrew Ryan, and I’m here to ask you a question. Is a ninja not entitled to his cookies? ‘No!’ says the man in office, ‘It belongs to me.’ ‘No!’ says the sister at home, ‘It belongs to Jimmy Choo.’ ‘No!’ says the nameless game peddler at PlayAsia , ‘It belongs to everyone… at our store’ A ninja should reject those answers; instead, chose something different. Chose the impossible. Chose… a permanent vaction! Where the ninja would not fear the office man, where the brother would not be bound by petty sibling morality, Where the great gaming needs would not be constrained by the small offerings at PlayAsia! And with your awesomeness, you can be better off as well.
Junk: Kuch nahin hoga re.
Andrew Ryan: Why?
Junk: He has no leave days left. Or cookies. Besides it seems more than that. Trent, tell the man.
Trent Reznor (sings): I believe I can see the future because I repeat the same routine. I think I used to have a purpose.Then again, that might have been a dream. I think I used to have a voice. Now I never make a sound. I just do what I’ve been told. I really don’t want them to come around. Oh, no. Every day is exactly the same.
Trent Reznor (non-singing voice): Am I right?
Slackerninja: *nods helplessly *
Junk: He needs something to keep him busy. Right now he seems like, what Andrew says every now and then…what’s that phrase?
Andrew Ryan: Would you kindly?
Junk: No not the mind control phrase…the other one, something choses and something obeys.
Andrew Ryan: A man chooses, a slave obeys.
Junk: That only! He needs something to do.
Solid Snake: He needs to find something to believe in and find it for himself.
Junk: I was thinking of getting blazowned, but that could do.
Trent Reznor (croons again): I can feel their eyes are watching. In case I lose myself again. Sometimes I think I’m happy here. Sometimes, yeah, I still pretend. I can’t remember how this got started. But I can tell you exactly how it will end.
Junk: Being schizophrenic and paranoid doesn’t help either.
Trent Reznor (looking at Janak menacingly): What? Excuse me?
Junk: Not you. Him!
Solid Snake: But if we’re all constructs of his demented late night coffee overdoses, doesn’t it make us all crazy?
Junk: No. Not me. I am like that only. At least after contributing to Red Bull’s annual turnover by 90%.
Andrew Ryan: You my son, are wired. They should’ve given you shares in the company.
Junk: Nah free Red Bull is good enough. You guys are lucky. I actually know this nutjob. In real life. So while you guys live your virtual lives in some twisted video game or just living the life of an absolute rockstar I have to deal with this. (points and laughs).
Solid Snake: Ouch. Sucks to be you.
Andrew Ryan: My most profound apologies.
Junk: I know man!
Trent Reznor: So..what should we do?
Junk: Well, he seems to be preoccupied enough writing this pile of crap. Let’s leave him to his devices and bounce. We have bigger things to worry about.
Solid Snake (looks at Slackerninja): If you’re going to doubt yourself, I’ll leave you here. Never doubt yourself. Only let it make you stronger. But I’m leaving you here anyway.
Andrew Ryan: What are these bigger things ?
Junk: You know, life, the universe, cosmic harmony and yes, who was the guy in the man who shagged me?
Junk: As you can see, staying around here any longer would lead to more Junkisms. This blogger is getting more delusional with each passing moment. Besides I need a drink.
Solid Snake: Same here.
Andrew Ryan (looks at Slackerninja): We all make choices in life, but in the end our choices make us. Let’s go.
Junk: Hey Andrew Ryan.
Andrew Ryan: Yes?
Junk: Fuck your balls.
Andrew Ryan: Bitch.
And as they left the caffeine zone for a drink, realization dawned upon our patient protagonist. He just needs to do something different each day. This was a starting point (good or not, that’s debatable). Namely, staying up later than usual and writing absolute rubbish. Next on the list: to actually show up to work on time and leave on time. Yes, he’s hardcore like that.
Now Listening To: Nine Inch Nails – Everyday is Exactly the Same