Here we have a framework series about Zippy Zamazda, who is not even on the plane to L.A. yet, although he’d been well on his way, back in February of 2018.
And then the narrative thread broke, and you, Dear Readers, and I, and we all together, are, right now, searching for Zippy’s fate.
But, will we ever find it?
For, where is Zippy? Should we look the world over to catch this not unimportant personage of Kyiv Commix Past? Is it worth the effort? Is it worth the bother? Or, should we simply write him off as lost to us forever, and move on with all our other stories?
But things seem just too curious to do that. And then, not to square up to the challenge; seems like a lazy weakling’s copout and too-easy surrender. Because I can’t help asking: Is he still up in the plane – if he’d ever gotten on to begin with? Well, could be. But we just don’t know. And if he is, then I, for one, would like to know, and I’ll worry about the significance of such a discovery later. Or, did his plane ever land, and is he still with us, at all? Well, could be. And if he is, what might he be doing now?!
But who could even care, I ask myself, about this short, fat, nasally, pompous, egotistical, self-centered, narcissistic, full-of-himself-righteously-indignant, sanctimonious, recklessly arrogant petty thief of other people’s things and assassin of their jobs, forever nursing delusions of grandeur he thinks will sooner or later be justified with the rewards he so richly deserves, because it is impossible for him to believe it could or should be any other way?
And what more can one say, above and beyond what we, here, at The Kyiv Commix (main section published to the Kyiv Unedited newspaper website), have already said about him? For example, that his entire short, fat-assed and pudgy form commences a kind of rage-sourced, uncontrolled jelly-shaking, upper lip curled and quivering, when he finds himself answering to a benefactor-boss, without whom he’d not have gotten the job, yet whom he detests with every fiber of his being, as someone who is too far below him, possessing so much less talent and brains as compared to himself, that it is incomprehensible how cruel fate could have done him such a dirty turn, putting such human waste above him. And so, in his unceasing fever-pitch of hateful seething, he heedlessly ventures into schemes to destroy his superior and take his job.
How do you understand someone who cannot come up with anything original on his own, but as soon as someone invites him to take part in the good that’d been created, he tries to take the thing for his own, while destroying the creator, believing that he is the one who deserves it, being so much better than the originating source, whom he sees as refuse, and ilk, and filth.
Who could care for someone who, as soon as life fortuitously and generously throws him a lousy bone, so he may better his pathetic lot in it, he fiercely lunges at the throat of that life itself, like the demented mad dog he truly is, having been raised in the psychological abuse of supreme arrogance as a pup?
I do; I care about him, deeply. I want him to do well, and to get all the things that he wants, and that Providence may be with him and behind his receiving his every dream.