If you’re good and do the right thing, you can expect a lifetime of a stable job, marriage (if you’re good-looking or have low enough standards), children (provided you are fertile), a retirement fund and a dignified death. Someone might even cry at your funeral, or at least sniffle into their handkerchief. If you’re evil, you can expect less people at your funeral (if they can find your body, that is) and every single one of them will be crying. Some about your charismatic spitting style, others because you’re finally gone. Either way, that midget from the funfair will be playing his accordion and that blonde you met in Mexico will be clawing at the six feet of dry turf above your body, begging for the sweet release of death. Once you’re dead, if you’re good, you can expect an eternity of plaiting Jesus’ hair, colour-co-ordinating his kokis and robes, and great big singalongs around the camp-heater (sorry, no fires in heaven – reminds them of the horned one in the basement. Same goes for forks. You’re going to have to eat everything with your spoon). But when you’re evil, the campfire opportunities are endless. Just find one of those people who’re on fire and take a seat next to them. Best to find one that’s been around for a while, they tend to run around screaming a lot less. Like Hitler, with his awesome hair. Don’t even get us started on how much better the hairstyles are in hell, we’ll be here forever. Yours poking kittens in the eyes with sharp sticks,
You know those people. The ones that are nice. They might not be particularly interesting, or have much of a personality. They Do The Right Thing, even if it really is as exciting as a Limp Bizkit reunion. They’re the ones keeping it on the straight and narrow. But not you, you’re a rebel. You read one small seed. You can tell the difference between a vanilla sponge cake covered in 100s and 1000s and a chocolate mousse with a pentagram picked out in double cream. Similarly, you can tell the difference between a teaspoon of herbal cough syrup and a shot of Jägermeister. We know you’re trying to cover up your checkered past with that lumberjack shirt of yours; you used to be a nice person. If, in fact, you were the kid who used to pull the wings of flies, why are you reading this magazine? Shouldn’t you be off doing drive-by-rapings or something? Actually, if you were that kid, you probably can’t read. You asshole. See, the problem is – nice is boring. And being nice is never a sufficient alternative to having a personality. When someone has a personality, they can often be boxed as a doos. We say, rather have opinions and the associated personality, no matter how evil. While we’re in that metaphysical neighbourhood, let’s put good and evil into the ring and see who wins. In the white corner: Good. You can recognise him by his sensible pants, sitting just under his bellybutton and the ‘play by the rules’ look hanging onto his hairless face. In the black corner: Evil. Please excuse him while he licks the face of his rather under-dressed manager, spits on the floor charismatically and puts knuckledusters under his gloves. 108
one small seed
Paul and Rudi, HEADLINE payoff