Part One: Soliloquy (4)

4.

I am accustomed to receiving skepticism from my audience.

You think I can prove Murphy’s existence to you? I can’t. I’ve tried it before. Just as God and Lucifer continually utterly refuse to definitively prove their existence, so too does Murphy. I attempted once. Or rather, about a hundred times. And as a result, I ended up homeless on the streets. Been so ever since, and I learned my lesson. And plotted my revenge...

It’s the celebrity principle: Take any within the ranks of the rich and famous and plot out their lives as they rose to fame, striving to gain as much of the spotlight as possible, bearing every inch of wanton flesh imaginable to the lauding masses. At some pinnacle of fame, they reach a point where, suddenly, they are in want for a sense of privacy. The fences go up. The paparazzi's go down, taken out by the bodyguards. Privacy, and a sense of anonymity are both prized possessions in a noisy and populated universe, turns out. And subtly, meekly, almost everyone comes to realize this at some point in their lives. Money doesn’t buy happiness. Fame doesn’t buy happiness. Beauty, and the pursuit thereof definitely do-not-buy-happiness. But this is only my philosophy. And who am I but a homeless Uberhuman forever wearing fresh, brand new socks and knickers – a fact which makes me very, very happy.

But I digress! The purpose of the above rant was to describe the need to be Unknown, Unproven, Undiscoverable to the masses. This is a major drive of Murphy, and he invests much of his insurmountable power to ensure that this drive be driven. As youth often are, I once thought myself both invincible and all-knowing. The budding god within myself pining to be released to wreak havoc upon all creation. As such, I thought through my cleverness that I could definitively prove to some other the existence of Murphy. Thought I, that through a simple exercise in odds, keeping in mind the before-mentioned influence that Murphy exercises over them, that I could persuade others to believe in his role within the Cosmos. My only remaining hope is that I as much as caused a stitch in his side from all the laughter I inflicted upon him with my feeble attempts, and the lengths to which I took them. To spare needless and trivial detail through excessive verbosity, know that through process of time, I lost all my living possessions, my employment, my first love, my left testicle, and my respectable social standing in the pursuit of this campaign.

But what I have gained is this: An irrefutable knowledge and surety of the reality, and the living influence over universal goings-on perpetrated by this malicious Omnithwarter. I have given everything in order to come to this realization. And I imagine that in order for anyone to likewise become a true believer, they will have to give up all they have as well.

It was words such as these that incited a sort of cult following from certain social circles susceptible to such silliness. Reluctantly, I confess to holding the status as Prophet to a group of who have cutely named themselves the “Murphs,” and dedicate their heretic lives in devotion to Murphy. If they weren’t so apt at tainting my reputation, I would feel relief that someone out there believes me.

Fools! All of them! Every dross belch of a sentence I utter when in unfortunate earshot of a Murph is penned in triplicate, then entered into the Book of Murphy as the Word of the Chaos God. A recent cult worship gathering went such, as reported by Event! Newsletter (containing the latest news with all things Murphy):

Pupil: Papa, I’m having trouble in my relationship with my girlfriend. I think she may be cheating on me.

Papa: Be at peace, little one. What does the Great Book say?

Pupil: Well, Two Muggs chapter five, verse twenty-seven states, ‘Never mind the cream, I need it strong and stiff today.’

Congregation: (murmurs of approval and understanding).

Pupil: Of course that helps, but I was hoping you could direct me to something perhaps a little more definitive?”

Papa: Certainly, my child. Turn with me to the Book of Garage, chapter fourteen, verse three wherein it is stated, ‘Around the next turn, you will find your red Hummer.”

Congregation: (profound silence).

Pupil: Thank you, Papa Murph! Your wisdom is indeed excellence!

Papa: There is none wise but one, my child. I am but a mouthpiece. Amen.

Congregation: Amen!