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Comfort

Pandemonium has broken out in Arcadia.

Explosives are being detonated, dead bodies are being displayed as artwork, and Arcadians are frightened by what they see.

In these times of wild and noisy disorder, people seek comfort. Like confused, wayward sheep, they flock together in search of someone offering to herd them to greener pastures.

That comfort can be offered in multiple ways.

It starts with the doomsdayers.

Preachers declare we must endure the pain that accompanies these end times, spreading their word as if it were gospel, in order to reach salvation.

Blind men urge others to look within themselves to expand their sensorial spectrum and see beyond the uproar.

Men burned to a crisp from head to toe, bandaged up like a mummy, roam the streets and warn of danger, pleading for peace.

Conversely, high profile celebrities promise a better life, quietly recruiting numbers for a revolution against the establishment that has neglected their own people for far too long.

But these offers are not easy fixes, requiring growth, harm, and even bloodshed before a measure of comfort can be attained.

So then, there are others who offer more viable alternatives.

A policeman can vow to protect you from the uproar by physically fending off danger by force.

Even someone outside the law such as a vigilante could save you from harm, but it depends on the range and experience of whoever it is behind the mask and whether or not they are folklore.

A candyman could fill up your bellies with sugary goodness until your blood glucose levels skyrocket you into a blissful food coma.

To take it up a notch, a drug-dealing pimp could appeal to your attractions with a catalogue of women and fixings to keep you company at night, taking your mind off of things.

A musician could serenade you with music that warms your heart and takes away your pain, distracting you for a hot minute or two.

And like a musician, a puppeteer could entertain you, taking you on an arduous journey to momentarily escape reality.

Their offers of comfort are enticing, even exciting, but they are all hollow, quick fixes that won’t last.

I can articulate your risk factors, offer alternatives to your current lifestyle, be your savior by protecting you from ailment, and provide the fix you need to endure your pain by invading your heart and taking you on an adventure to la la land.

I can provide the comfort that everyone else here offers, plus I can offer eternal comfort for the inevitable:

Death.

All you must do is follow me to my twenty-bed hospital ward. For in Olympus’ pasture of full of white sheep, I am the black sheep, your shepherd of death shrouded by black wool, and oh does it bring me comfort to know that I’ll be leading all you little lambs to slaughter.

You’ll all be counting sheep from the comfort of my hospital beds at Pandemonium.

It’s time to put you all on comfort measures.

Now close your eyes and take a deep breath…

See you on the other side, sheep.

“One… two… three… zzz…”

Dr. Death