The Demon Slayer. True Dat.
Your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you, unless of course you’re already three sheets to the wind. This demon has four eyes. Now, for those of you tuning in from an English speaking country, or somewhere in the Western Hemisphere, I need to point out that in Eastern religions demons aren’t necessarily a bad thing. They can be either good or evil depending on their actions and intentions. Demon is a generic term for any supernatural being. We tend to not be so lucky in the Western world. Our demons and dragons generally do NOT bode well for us. That having been said, my focus right now is not on the odd looking dude on the front of that bottle. My focus is on what’s in the bottle.
You see, this is Onigoroshi Sake. Onigoroshi is a brand name; I’m not sure which particular variety is in this bottle. I guess I could attempt to read what little English is there, but it hardly seems worth it. No, I’m focusing on the overall purpose of this bottle. You see, this bottle of sake is the “Demon Slayer.” At first I wondered how sake could end up being the demon slayer. Then I realized that sake, like all alcoholic beverages, kills a lot of demons.
Except for that bastard. Seriously, he’s taking full advantage of being immortal and completely incomprehensible. Douchebag.
No, I’m talking about the demons that alcohol can kill. I always joke about how alcohol is the sacred tears of heaven. I wish it wasn’t. On a side note, why can’t cake, pie and ice cream be the things that ease awkward conversations, kill pain and make you forget that you have an asshole landlord? They would be completely omnipotent if they could do that AND have no calories. Damn that cake.
Fuck you, you useless, calorie-laden bastard. Can’t you at least have some anesthetic quality?
I think about the demon haunted world often. No, you’re absolutely right. I’m not a religious person and don’t think about demons in the traditional religious sense. However, every day I’m confronted by various demons. The demons tell me that I’m not smart or talented enough to compose an intelligent thesis. The demons in the media that tell me I’m not thin enough, beautiful enough or young enough to be of worth to society. The demons of regret, fear and self-doubt plague those hours of insomnia at night. These are the real demons. We should fear them. These are the true destroyers.
Yes, this is what the interior of your mind looks like. The only thing that’s missing is your greatest fear painted right on the front there.
There’s nothing like a full bottle of the demon slayer to shut that shit right up. It also helps with the pain of severe arthritis, which is more than you can say for ibuprofen or Tylenol. What’s in the bottle kills the demons lurking in your mind. This is absolutely true. You lose brain cells with each binge drinking episode you engage in. Lose enough and you won’t remember a damn thing. Drink long enough and you end up in rehab or the Alzheimer’s ward. Of course, if you lose just enough brain cells the doubt just slips away quietly in the night. That’s the problem. Right now I don’t have doubts so much as the overwhelming feeling there is too much work to be done between the lab and the move.
Ever have a day where you just feel like that? Well, try it for over 20 years then call me.
I’ll be relying on the demon slayer from time to time. There’s over a liter and a half in there, so it could take a while. That’s fine; I’m in this for the long haul. Not the actual move really, that’s just a few blocks away. No, I’m talking about finishing my lab notes, writing up a thesis, moving my house, re-folding an unknown protein, testing the results, getting my family through yet another medical crisis, playing full-time aunt and babysitter and taking the time out to walk the dog twice a day.
This little bastard can pretty much take care of himself, except for the box. I wonder if it’s possible to teach him how to use the toilet.
Thank whoever’s out there for small favors. Cats are pretty much self-sufficient. I just have to throw some food at them and hope for the best. They’re pretty grateful little bastards. They even bought me a present at the liquor store the other day thanks to their fake ID’s. Now, I know what you’re thinking, because I’m curious too. Who the hell sells a cat a fake ID? I don’t know, but I need to hook up with that bitch. In the mean time, let me take a look at this…
Now that’s just wrong, man.
I guess it was one of those, “I bought it for you, but if you don’t like it, I’ll gladly keep it,” kind of things. Damn cats. Hey, furbags, hand your old lady that big bottle over there. I need a little demon slayer to wash the taste of that shit out. Cheers!