He Died Laughing
He nearly died laughing. Yes, that’s the phrase. He is killing himself laughing at the man who is being killed. And he is the man who is being killed. Yes, that is he, they are one and the same. Two sides of the same copper coin. And he is laughing, but it’s not funny. The way they are killing him is not funny. It is awful and they are killing him slowly and with great cruelty. They have such wonderful imaginations. How do they come up with these ways of killing without killing? But almost killing. They’re having a lot of fun and it’s still early in the day and they have hours of pleasure to look forward to.
It’s almost coffee time and then they will go outside and sit in the sunshine and, because it’s still quite early, the sun won’t be too hot. Yes, it will be very pleasant sitting outside and there’s always a slight breeze at that time of day. It’s early, but not too early. The chill from the night is gone but the heat from the day has not yet arrived. They linger longer than they are supposed to linger. Until finally, they must go back inside and carry on with their vivid imaginations.
They enjoy their work and they’re very good at their work and they enjoy sitting outside in the morning sun and breeze and talking about their wives and girlfriends and their children and how their children are doing so well at school.
“Just the other day,” the fat one says, “We ate dinner at a wonderful restaurant. We ate rice wrapped in leaves and chicken in special spices. And the wine was excellent from grapes grown outside of the city in soil that’s rich in minerals. We took a drive into the countryside and visited the vineyard and I put my hands in the soil and could feel how rich the clay was. My wife was very happy and we kissed like young lovers.”
“How lovely,” the wiry man replies, “It's good to keep romance alive in a marriage.” Then they went back inside and back to work killing that man but not killing that man. You’d be surprised how strong the wiry man is because he doesn’t look strong at all but he has a firm touch and knows just the right spots to have maximum effect.
The fat man is not so precise but still effective and gets the job done. They are both handsomely rewarded. They are valued employees because they are so good at their jobs and get the job done efficiently.
The wiry man isn't married and the fat man enjoys hearing the stories he tells about his exploits with various women. That's why they work so well together. Because they have different lives away from their work and they each fill the other one up with good stories so that they are both living both lives. It's really quite ideal.
The wiry man says he’s a great lover and women always come back for more because he is precise and knows exactly where to touch them and how much pressure to exert on the exact spot.
“It’s not so different from the work we do,” he says. They are both very proud of the lives they have made for themselves. They both come from humble beginnings and look at them now!
When they come back inside their patient is exhausted and barely conscious so they wake him up with cold water and a few slaps. They notice he is killing himself with laughter. But laughter doesn’t kill him completely. That’s the problem with laughter. It’s not the best method for dying. There are much better ways to kill yourself; guns or knives or poison are better. Laughter is only good to get things started. Killing with laughter is like an appetizer.
The man who is killing himself with laughter knows this and he’s getting impatient for the main course. The two men also know this and they don't want to feed the man his main course. At least, not yet, because it is too early in the day and their shift doesn’t end for many hours and if they feed him the main course now what will they do for the rest of the day? They have such active imaginations it’s not good to have nothing to do for hours and hours. That has happened before and then the mind wanders into dark places and everything is too quiet. Then, their conversation falters and they don’t enjoy talking about the wonderful lives they inhabit away from work.
But they are getting worn out with this man who dies laughing. He’s an unusual specimen. They both agree on that. He screams, but then he laughs. He groans, but then he laughs. They wish he would act like all the other patients and beg for mercy once in a while but he cries and laughs and doesn’t ask for mercy. In fact, he looks them straight in the eye and then laughs. So, the wiry man gouges out one of his eyes with his thumb and says,
“See? Who’s laughing now?” But the wiry man is not laughing and the fat man is not laughing either. Only the man with one eye hanging from the socket is laughing. He is laughing and spitting and coughing and bleeding and puking. His laughter is disturbing to the two men because their usual techniques are not so successful. They always like it when the patient begs to die or begs to live. But this one only laughs and that’s not the correct way to act. They look at each other with some dismay. Inside themselves they are starting to feel insecure. They’re both religious men and they begin to think that this man is either a devil or a saint. They don't say this terrible idea out loud but they both see images of the church and the altar and the sacrament coming into their minds. They don’t share this secret with each other but, because they have both been living both their lives as if they are one life, for this reason, they are both dreaming of the church and the smell of incense is in both their noses. But they don’t say this to each other because to say it out loud will make it more real and more distressing. For them, the universe spins properly because they keep one thing separate from another thing. There is an order and a harmony that they cannot explain but understand perfectly. And now, this laughing man is mixing up the order and messing up the harmony. He is causing a sacrilege.
The reason the two men are so successful and have risen so far in the ranks and have such nice homes and such good food to eat and such good wine to drink and such pretty women in their lives is because they know how things must be done. With care and at the right pace. With everything in its correct place. The sun doesn’t belong in this room. The breeze doesn't belong in this room. The beautiful countryside and the pretty women don't belong in this room. The church doesn’t belong in this room. The church is only for Sunday. Drinking is only for Saturday night.
But now, because of this laughing man, the fat man’s children are in this room and playing with their dolls and trucks in the corner. His wife is in this room and making dinner at the stove and setting the table for dinner. Even his little dog is in this room, curled up and asleep with one eye open. The wiry man’s best girlfriend is in this room and standing against the wall and giggling at his clever joke. And the church is in this room and the congregation is singing about heaven. And the whole room is thick with incense. And hovering over this chaos is this man’s laughter.
The man who is dying from laughter laughs until he cries and cries until he laughs again and there is no end to this cycle and he can’t tell the difference between laughing and crying because there is no difference. They both come from the same well. The tears from happiness and sadness and despair and confusion are all the same colour. If you catch them in a cup they all look exactly the same, just water. He wishes his rib cage would break open and his heart would fall onto the floor and he would be released; but his body is too strong and will not let go of his heart and as long as his heart is still beating he can’t leave this room.
“So here we are” he thinks, “These two sad men who do not know they are sad. These two pitiful men who do not know they are pitiful. These two ignorant men who do not know they are ignorant. These two cruel men who know they are cruel. After all, cruelty is their bread and butter. And me. That makes three. A perverse trinity. An inverted triangle with me at the bottom.” And that strikes him as funny so of course he laughs and that strikes him as tragic so of course he cries.
Then his mind begins to wander and he floats above his body and out of the room and out in the street. He floats down the street in a most peculiar fashion, and he seems to know where he is going because he is moving quite fast and with a certainty. And he arrives at a beautiful home at the end of a shady, tree-lined street and he floats into a house and stands inside a sunny kitchen and watches this woman, the fat man’s wife, cooking at the stove and these children, the fat man’s children, playing on the kitchen floor and this dog curled up and sleeping with one eye open. The dog growls. The children look up and see him.
“Would you like to see where your daddy works?” he asks the children.
“Yes, oh yes, please take us,” the children plea. The woman thinks she hears something and turns her head and sees the shadow of the laughing man and he says to her,
“And you, my dear, do you want to see the place where daddy works?”
“No, I do not,” she says emphatically, “Anyway, I know what he does. He works for The Ministry in the Accounting Department.”
“That’s fine, then I will take the children along with me and you can stay here. Do you love your children?” The woman takes off her apron and gets ready to come along.
And the laughing man floats down many streets and gathers up many people to come along to the room. They are all friends and acquaintances of the two respected men who work for The Ministry in the Accounting Department. The laughing man seems to have a power to convince. Somehow, he is irresistible. Maybe it is because of his ethereal presence and maybe because of the laughter he is trying so hard to suppress. He has a secret joke and everyone wants to know what that secret is.
“It'll be a real party,” he tells the reluctant ones, “There will be plenty of laughter. And music. And good food.”
Then he is shocked awake with cold water and slaps. He is back in the room and the room is filling up with the people he has floated to, and spoken to and convinced to come to the party. The woman cooks, the choir sings, the children play, the dogs bark, people dance and make romance, priests wave incense and chant. Violins! Celestial beings with wings! A joyous cacophony. This great party is happening in this dingy, blood-soaked room with a single light bulb and a bucket for puke. Everyone has arrived at the right place because on the door to the room there is a sign that says, “Accounting Department.”
At 4:55 the fat man and the wiry man finally feed the laughing man his main course.
“Good riddance,” they say.
“The books are balanced right down to the last copper coin,” the fat man says with a smug smile and the wiry man grunts his agreement and they make some notes in their big book and they slam that big book shut.
At five o’clock they go home.