Judge and Executioner

I Must Die.

That’s all there is to it.

I am kneeling here…in my big rig…preparing for the exit from mortality by my own hand.

 No…hear me out.

When you do, you will see that…yes….it is for the best.

Everything is clear to me now.

I deserve it.

The sun’s rays… through the windows make the dust particles dance appear ghostly…haunted.

It is quiet now.

I have come to grips with the responsibility of dispensing this justice upon myself that I have pronounced…nay…that I have heaped upon other transgressors throughout my life.

I will not be a hypocrite.

I must be true to the laws of nature and man.

The laws that I believe in.   Self discipline.

 My rules…my guidelines.

Pet peeves should be inviolate.

I see the instruments of justice before me.

My release….

My redemption…

The ceremonial jagged piece of glass, the tack hammer, the boiling vat of oil and the fire ants are all here with me…in the dancing dusty light.

 (I’m embarrassed and pained to admit) That I violated Pet Peeve rule # 6.

I drank from the milk jug and put it back into the fridge with ¼” of milk still in the bottom.

I know…

I don’t know what came over me…

I must have been sleep-walking…I never would have transgressed at such an extent…against the laws of etiquette in an awakened state.

There are no excuses though….

The sentences of death and other horrific tortures I have judged upon others that I have witnessed or suspected in violations of Pet Peeves # 1-20 have come back to haunt me.

After 48 years “on the bench of my jurisdiction” I too must hold myself to these standards.

I must maintain the law.

Without law…we are only animals.

A raven just landed on the hood of my truck, his accusing black eyes demanding justice.

I kneel here…looking at the aforementioned instruments of self-imposed justice…with a sense of…no…a sense of appreciation.

They will release me from my shame…they will cleanse my soul from guilt through the agony of keeping my own rules.

I will reach nirvana.

I will become…an ancestor.

Here is the ritual punishment, in order, for drinking from the milk jug and putting it back into the fridge empty:

First…I will beat myself senseless with the tack hammer.

Second…I will coat myself in honey and lie amongst the fire-ants.

Third…I will stumble…crawl…weeping into the vat of boiling oil…grateful that it’s punishing anguish is purging the sin of this spiteful transgressor.

Fourth…Boiled…half-eaten…beaten senseless by a tack hammer, I come to my final release…

Ritual Seppuku with a jagged piece of glass.

It is the final stage to enlightenment.

Equal payment for my violation…account squared.

I will not be a hypocrite…I will enforce my own rules…even if it hurts like hell…

I have not wavered. I have shown no fear. I am the master of my soul.

I am full of shit.

There’s no damn way I’m gonna cry over milk, I’m the only one here!

Pet Peeves only count if someone else see’s you, right!

But……Self control must be maintained in some situations and not be allowed to run rampant.

Give me an inch…?

I’m just really glad that I had re-filled the ice trays, washed all the dishes in the sink, and not stolen the batteries from the TV remote.

The punishments there…I can’t even imagine.