The Most Terrible Monster

The Worst Monster

By Angela R. Hunt

Joe had always enjoyed a good horror movie. Fake blood, big tits, pale faced vampires and zombies, werewolves with spirit glue and computer generated fur. He spent his days shelving stock at a large chain store. Now and then he thought about the four year degree that got him no where. On those nights he drank.

He tried dating, but girls really weren't impressed by a guy who's life achievement is putting cardboard boxes on shelves. Hundreds of people do that. He would sit in front of his computer and slaughter thousands of artificially generated opponents to feel a sense of accomplishment. 

Commercials begged him to recycle, friends on Facebook shared news stories encouraging social change and awareness of a thousand causes from stopping animal abuse to corruption in the government. He ignored every request and pressure. He did not involve himself in politics. He did not donate to charities, after all: who helped him pay off his college loans? He watched his rights shrink with every law and bill passed by Congress.

He lived a life surrounding himself with a thousand collectibles, a fast car and name brand clothing. He knew he was better than most people, because he never did anything illegal or controversial. He spent his money on whatever he wanted. He paid someone to clean his apartment and do his laundry. He hated that stuff.

When he died in an accident, there was nothing remarkable that anyone could think of to say. There was no great accomplishment, no struggle, no victory, no challenge. He had never really loved. He had never really won. But in the lack of adversity he had never found a reason to strive, he had never become. His life was that of a consumer. A pig fatted on the richness of materialism without a purpose. Nothing to remember him by, no reason to try. He was never left behind. He never changed the world.

He was nothing and became nothing. He never helped anyone, never cared and never tried. Everything he did and was could be summed up as unremarkable. The terrifying truth is that there are thousands out there, men and women who are content to be Joe. Who wake up every day justifying the empty and meaningless lives they lead by pursuing false realities found in virtual worlds and material goods never living the real life they have.

What is so terrifying about Joe? That it is easy for someone to choose to live a meaningless life; for someone to choose to pass by chance rather than risk failing because they value comfort and safety over accomplishment.

Joe believed he was a hero because he played a character in a game that had a magic sword and special armor. Joe wasn't the character but believed he was. He believed he could slay dragons and that he was exceptional.

As I finished telling the story about Joe, the children in front of me shuddered.

“How terrible.” One girl softly said.

You could see each of her ribs beneath her skin, the skin across them like wind through a field of wheat. 

“He had more food and money than he needed. He threw it away. He could have saved his money and planted a garden. He could have given food to people who need it. He could have volunteered and helped those in need; fighting really monstrous things including poverty and starvation. He could have made a difference. He could have cared. He wasted his life.” One of the boys said as he made patterns in the dust with his toes.

The children were talking about Joe, butting in as each of them came to more horrible realizations. “He did not even live." "He might as well never have been born." "If I had been him I would have loved every minute of air conditioning, every chocolate bar and I would have slept surrounded by baskets of fresh fruit!” “I would have driven to see a lake! I would have learned to swim and would have used the money he wasted traveling!” The children were horrified by the waste that was Joe. "He lived in a television! That's not real!"

It was one of the younger boys who looked up with large eyes. 

He said “Joe is the most terrifying monster you've told us about. He WAS real. He had so much and never valued it. He wasted and squandered things that would have given relief to a whole family here for a month or more and he never even cared about what he wasted. He was selfish and worthless despite the money he had and for all of that he was a part of a country that goes around making rules for the rest of the world. He did nothing to change the inconsistency in how his government treats other countries; he did nothing to stand up to the corruption there that has engineered war for its own profits and his benefit."

A trap waiting patiently to snare a free mind. 

The boy sat on the cold ground. He was too young to be so astute. He was too young to have had to go without meals or learn that emotions are a secondary thing you have after you deal with life threatening situations including losing your parents in a war zone. He understood that the worst monster is an apathetic one that wastes everything that has true value in pursuit of emptiness. Zombies aren't only in movies. 

Look around you and take a true accounting. How many people do you know that truly live? How many just mark time? How many use denial and excuses to avoid living? How many fail to thrive and how many avoid emotions through mood altering prescription drugs and alcohol? How many people tell their children to strive and at the same time manipulate their children to avoid taking chances or risks. 

No great hero of history or decorated General has ever uttered those words. No explorers, no inventors, and no scientist has ever said “I better not try that, I might fail and I can't risk my parents being upset.”

None of the children could sleep that night. Joe was the new monster and they could see him staring at them listlessly every time a plane flew over or a bus went by full of plastic looking tourists in their bright colored clothing with their rude and disconnected loudness.