Kill _____ (Vol I)

You know, I really need to make more enemies. Friends have their good qualities and come with bonus benefits and all that. They stick with you, and support you and lend money too. But really, they also like to eat starters and soup first, followed by food more than they can consume (or deserve to, in some cases), all to be heartily rounded off with dessert. Then they like to embarrass you in a restaurant full of people by singing to you, and urging you to stand and take a bow. All because its your birthday dinner.

I dont say this out of spite or sudden brainwave. I've thought long and hard over this. Enemies is what a guy really wants. Someone to despise, and someone to hate. I have a whole big bunch of friends - a few necessary close ones, a good number of medium distance ones, and a set of distant ones too. This does not even include the number of acquaintances I'm acquainted with. Every set of friends is properly defined in a continuous function within its own bounded interval (a bit of math jargon that), with only a few strays crossing over now and then, back and forth. Its all organized and catalogued, making it like a filing cabinet. You see how I mean its irritating? Its so nicely done up, that its unsettling and painful to behold.

Being on good terms with mostly everyone is excruciating after some time. Its like watching Three's Company, over and over and over and over. Then again after lunch. And you know you couldnt finish even one episode of that. What? You could? The Brady Bunch, then. There. I know its all beginning to sound horribly brutal and abominably cruel to the mind and senses, but things tend to get that way in your head, when you're sinking in the quicksand of nice, fulfilling relationships with one and all around you.

Which is why you need the hate. Why is why you need fewer friends. Which is why you need more enemies. Which is why, ok thats it.

I really need an enemy. Not an adversary, or a worthy foe. Not someone I must secretly respect for his/her talents, braincells, or sheer machiavellian brilliance, but destroy nonetheless. Thats too much work. I need a standard, simple, easy-to-hate person. A round-faced, sweet-smiling, innocent and angelic guy I would have no reason to despise and hate from the bottom of my heart, thus instantly making me despise and hate him from the bottom of my heart. And all this would be made all the better by the fact that his innocence would hinder him from expecting it of me, and he'd never believe anyone who said someone hated him enough to want to push him off the 4th floor terrace.

For, you see, I already have plans ready for whoever it is I shall finally bestow my ire upon. Sometimes, when I'm in class, I hatch evil plots of hideous revenge and cold retribution for all the unjustice not done to me by my yet imaginary nemesis. I vow to make his existence a slow and painful yearning for death. I swear by the blood of Zorg, my Neanderthalian ancestor, that I will make him shed copious tears and curse the day of his birth. The role person to be hated so in question will henceforth by played by the definite form of a male, for I find my revenge shall be far too brutal to carry out on females. They whine and they fret too much. I make elaborate drawings of my complex plans for his final doom, indicating with dotted lines the trajectory of the multiple Oriental knives that will pierce his body and marking out neatly in block letters the different locations at which his limbs will be scattered. Later I intend to burn the remainder of his body, and push him off the hostel terrace. And then, sitting with narrowed eyes, I'll wipe the blood of my yellow tightsuit, sheathe my Hatori sword, and laugh an evil laugh, chilling the blood of whosoever is within earshot. Things havent had the chance to move on to the destruction of his kith and kin, since this finds me at the approximate juncture when my teacher rudely brings me back to reality, represented by those fourier expansions or those equations of steady fluid flow.

Anyway, thats like the last stage. Dont think I'm only a bloody-minded nasty bad person-ish character. Before things proceed to the well-coordinated plans of torture and dishonourable death with the smell of burnt things and garbage, atop a dumpster at the end of the fall off the hostel terrace, shall come the initial stages of enforced social embargo and gradual-step-by-step-deterioration-of-life-plan I shall bring down upon the object of my hate. I'll tell you later, if you're interested. Examinations are closing in fast and furious, and I must make some headway through my books. I'll also keep you posted in case I find my enemy. Several likely candidates abound, but no one's quite yet progressed beyond deserving my sincere scorn and arrogant dismissal. The hunt is on.