Dear Child, you tread so gently in here, that I will return the
softness. I have Slack. I can have ANYTHING that I desire, BUT I
know that there is a price to pay. If I want the things the CON tells
me I need...big house, fine car, french jeans, I know...I KNOW that I
will pay for them...not only in money, but in teensy tiny chunks of my
soul, every time I let someone else tell me what I want, what I need.
You want to be famous? It looks good doesn't it? all that
money...travel, people to make you look pretty? Do you know what it
costs? Everything...you get no privacy, no secrets, no time that isn't
scheduled for someone else, you are obligated to stay in shape, keep
your name in the public eye, come up with a new gimmick, embrace the
latest fashion, be the image that they need.
Slack is the opposite of all that...it is the sudden good in the
middle of all the garbage...diamonds in a goat's ass, as my mother is
wont to say. It's when you go to register your car and you see a huge
line of elderly people with wads of wrinkled papers clutched in their
arthritic hands, and suddenly they open a new window and wave directly
at you...yes, you...May I help you?...that's Slack.
It's when you wake up in the morning and you get your coffee ready and
your mind set to face the job in the CON world, and suddenly you
remember that it's a holiday, and you have a new bag of 'frop' in the
It's when you're sitting on your porch and the sun is going down, and
the birds are dancing on the lawn, and the crickets start quietly in
the background, and you realize that at this moment, in this place,
there is nothing wanted, nothing needed but the quiet silence of your
own thoughts and the beauty of the world around you...that is Slack my
darling, and if you let them take it away from you, then they might as
well kill you...
Give me food, or give me Slack, or kill me!