Doomsday, Take One

I never thought I’d finish it. I’m leaving this record behind here, as a warning and promise. That sounds like crap. Sorry. I’ve been drinking. Drinking makes me a pompous prick. Peter the pompous prick - say that a few times fast. Anyway, I am going out to do battle with the forces of the status quo and normalcy. They don’t protect the world, they don’t save it: they just make sure every thing is the same as it always was.
          And they never lose. That’s the part that depresses me. It’s why I started drinking again. Because this is the second attempt, in as many months. I hadn’t finished my death ray, last night. I just had robots, and they recruited some girl named Ferro Faucet - okay, fine Magenta Lass -- All right, all right. for history: Polar Star. She did things with magnets, and ripped every one of them apart.
          I never even got to salvage the pieces, and it was the last straw for Maureen. This time I’d racked the credit cards up to far, this time I’d gone too far, this time this, this time that -- I told her I was doing it for her, and she said she’d have settled for me fixing the toilet or being able to pay a plumber. I told her I needed to concentrate, that she was distracting me, and she said she loved me.
          And I told her that was distracting me.
          She didn’t leave. I don’t know why. She threw the model for a laser rifle for chimps at my head, started screaming, I screamed back. I told her I was 52, and I’d done nothing with my life, and if she couldn’t support me -- and she said she was tired of supporting me doing nothing, and I should go legit, because I was over 30 and the hippie era had died out before I was born. Things like that.
          We can only really hurt the ones we care about, and she slapped me for some comment, and I hit her, and she fell. It was her fault, not having cleaned up the floor. She hit an old weapon and there was blood everywhere, and I had a rolled up design in my hand and a florescent bioluminescent incandescent resonating polarizxing focused tachyon field to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow in a neutrino displacement grid for a electric-powered light-emitting vacuum tube -- or, in layman’s terms, a light bulb went off above my head.
          And I took the plans, and named it after her. The Maureen Mark I. My death ray. A real one, not the sissy laser weapons or the oh, so mighty microwave and radiation foolishness. I went beyond anti-matter and dimensional membranes and gravitational weapons -- but, since I hope to patent it some year, I won’t give details. Suffice to say it involves The endochronic properties of resublimated thiotimoline, and if you don’t get that, you don’t understand mad science.
          It’s not like I plan to destroy the entire world. The ‘mad’ is just a name we use, to distinguish ourselves from the ‘brights’ and normal scientists trapped in three dimensional thinking and string theory and other outdated silliness. We go where the imagination does not dare to, and sometimes we return with true wonders.
          Like the death ray. I will go, and I will destroy the heroes who defeated me with my plastic weapon at my side and a laugh in the air. And I will smile and not show my teeth, because our dental plan is terrible. But everything will change, once I rule the world. Things will be better. Purer. I will find a way to bring Maureen back.
          And I will finally be worthy of her love.