It's Dead –Sincerity*

* aka. You'd laugh out loud if I tell you there some funny s**t down here

aka. There Might Be a Part II Somewhere Here, or Not

It's so nice to live in a world full of people always willing to help one another.

'Here's my number. Call me anytime. Anytime, y'hear? I'm all yours the moment I got your call calling me for help. I'm there the moment we cut the connection.
'I'll be a fly, stealing into your abode—just give me a door or a window ajar for me to fly through.
'I'll be a mammoth, all horns and tusks announcing to the whole wide world that I'm here for you, should you want you prefer it that way.
'I'll be an eagle, flying high and plunging into your heartache and with talons sharper than blade, tearing it out and dropping it down from up high.
'I'll be a mole, blind to fear, digging tunnel to your place of retreat.
'So, call. Hear?'
…
…

'Why haven't you call? I've been sitting here by my cell phone waiting for your call. How could you
not call!? How could you?!'

And you call.
And you go and wail away spilling your heart out.
And you get all the help you feel you so justly deserve, and then some.
And you get your trouble sorted out, lifted up off of you, thanks to the help rendered.
And you turn away all sunshine and birds and bees, and all the colors of rainbow are you.

Then it takes only a moment with words not necessarily in a sentence, but you will be made sure you understand.
You have your say and you want the reply, a question that would demand an answer:
‘And now I use your help.’
Sincerity? That’s for suckers.

I give and I take.
Sell me yours. You then buy me something.
I do this for you. Wait there—your turn will come when you do me stuff.

‘There. That should do it.
… Hey, don’t I at least get a thank?’
Wow. That’s sincere.

Throw your hands to the heaven, and bargain God. ‘This, O God, Your servant offered Thee. Deliver, O Lord, from Thou aplenty.’
Bargaining with God: Yea, that always turns up good profit.

‘The person has helped me. Surely, I should return the favor.’
‘No one would help me, if I don’t do likewise.’
And that’s what you teach our children, since the moment they recognize you as more than merely an extension of their mouths: That nothing comes for free. You don’t help unless you get something in return. And you sure as Hell don’t get help without paying.

You don’t get your allowance unless you show me respect that I deserve.
You don’t get that new toy car provided you don’t flare my temper for at least four days straight.
You don’t get to play with your friends if you lose the paperwork I bring home.
You don’t get my love, as you don’t act the way I want you to act.

I got taught that one should not fall into the same ditch twice. I know that people change. I positively believe that people also change back. Let loose a dog, which for ten years you’ve been feeding nothing but the most expensive dog meals sold—the kind whose price you’d better not let your domestic helpers know for it would send them into terminal fit—and which you bathe and take to pet salon thrice a week, into the city dumpster and it would see you as not merely its master but its god who has magicked it down to a dog’s heaven.
‘All you stale bread, half-eaten chicken bones, baby’s puke, and everything else that squirm in there, HERE I COME!’

Yep. Dog’s Heaven, all right.

But dogs are not people.
Absolutely true, for dogs are incapable of being insincere.

Do I stay away from people because of whom I spent moments of my life in the dumpster? I do.
Do I forgive? Uh-huh.
Do I learn my lesson? I’d better.
Do I stay away from people with the help of whom I stared Devil in the face? Hell, yeah.