The other day I made a comment to someone that got an unanticipated response (I know, right, me saying something that bothers someone? how … odd).
I suggested that if superpowers were on the bartering table, I would see my way through to selling my soul. I mean, superpowers. Come on. Who wouldn’t want that. Even assuming that I’m not completely serious about bartering an unsubstantial, non-recordable and altogether magical essence for the concrete power to teleport, or shoot laser beams from my eyes, or whatever power I chose, it’s a good topic of conversation. It gets the ball rolling. From there we could have gone with ‘WHat would you sell your soul for’ or ‘What’s the nastiest place you had the sex in?’
I got: “I can’t believe you would treat your soul like it’s nothing.’
I was shocked. Astounded, flabbergasted and even, I would hazard, overwhelmed by the response. Partly because, and I can’t stress this enough, we are talking about fucking superpowers. Powers that are by their very nature, SUPER. Partly because the woman to whom this whole thing was directed did not seem to me to be the sort of person who would put, shall we say, an inordinate amount of worth on something that may or may not exist (I believe in ghosts and shit, but maybe not the soul, yeah, I’m a hypocrite).
I told her my willingness to part with the eternally immortal part of me was pure sarcasm and the story, for her, ends there. I relayed this information to a friend of mine via text, and we got onto the subject of how I should be more sensitive to the moods and beliefs of other people (he is, of course, completely fucking with me and baiting me into a prolonged argument where he snipes at me).
Here is an excerpt (after suggesting I am not sensitive)
Me: There is no possible way I could have guessed that. None. And fuck you. I am WAY more sensitive than you.
Him: I never said i was sensative my wife reminds me of that all the time
Me: I will sensitive all over your face. That’s how sensitive I am.
Him: O yah, that’s sensative!!! SOme people don’t respond well to the whole going to hell thing Mr Sensative (my friend has some kind of data phone and he has apparently either turned off spellcheck or predictive text, or it’s broken itself because he can’t spell for shit)
Him: Ur as sensitive as an overjerked wang.
Me: Yes, I am sensitive. I cry when little puppies are used to beat baby seals. Because puppy-tenderized seal meat is so delicious it can bring a tear to your eye.
There followed a long period of non-communication. I assure you it wasn’t because I shocked him silly. Implying that I would eat a baby seal that has first been clubbed to death by a cute little puppy is nowhere near the worst thing I’ve said. Or done.
He was silent for so long because he had to pull his vehicle (a gigantic cement truck full of cement) over so he wouldn’t flatten a few bystanders.
I am that funny. And I am sensitive. When that guy died at the end of Lord of the Rings The Fellowship of the Ring trying to save those hobbits, I fucking bawled my eyes out. Cuz there ain’t nothing cooler or sadder than a guy dying in slow motion while being shot by evil black arrows.