Challenge #01487-D026: On the Other Side of the Fence

“I have at least 14 bad angles” - Carrie Fisher -- RecklessPrudence

Carl made a career out of being abnormal. As one of the rare few who could not be cured, he told the jokes than nobody else dared make. Like, "Hey did you hear about the dyslexic biker? He joined Hell's Angles." or, "Public transportation is a real pain. You just try catching the sub every day."

And it worked. People laughed. He earned a living. He kept a home and had what passed for a life. But because his condition was so very rare... certain things just did not exist. Fonts, for instance, that 'weighed' the letters into their places and made it easier for him to read anything at all. Those were relics of a bygone era and far more expensive than they had to be.

Amazing how the system could force a person to pay more for something that allegedly nobody wanted. Now there was a joke. Supply and demand. They had the supply, so they could demand what they liked for it. Fonts, reader software, audio books... anything that could make his life a little more tolerable... it cost upwards of five figures. Because his condition was so rare.

Anything that made the 'normal' go out of their way to help the 'abnormal'... that had to cost more. Inconvenience tax. Thank any god available that his condition wasn't life-threatening. The normals would have loved that. That way, he could just slink off and die and then they needn't shift themselves an inch from their happy little rut. But not so. He persisted in living. He insisted on being visible. He lived frugally so that he could pay the monthly charges on the software that made his life livable.

He could pay to live as long as he was funny. And he was funny as long as he said all the jokes first. So they could feel good about laughing at people like him.

And every night, he closed with a parody of a prayer for aid from the holy book. Adjusted with dyslexia of course. "O Dog," it began, and mentioned sending an Angle to give wisdom to the rouges of the world. And so on. It was hilarious.

Until it happened.

Some higher power heard the letter of his prayer and not the spirit. And sent an angle. Well. Fourteen of them. Glowing brilliantly with a Higher Power, true, but fourteen angles making up a whole circle. No matter which direction Carl looked at it from.

"I suppose someone upstairs reckons this is funny," was Carl's first reaction.

And the angles spake. They didn't speak. They spake. It was altogether a different experience. From laughter comes joy, spake the angles. And joy is the nature of God.

"Yeah, that's sweet and all, but I have bigger problems. I need to put myself down all the time just to make enough to keep going. Are you going to be funny or are you going to work?"

Ask and ye shall receive, spake the angles.

Yeah, possibly literally, thought Carl. He wished he could write things down and still find them legible. He needed some solid thinking time for this one. "What I need... is things to be easier for me. Without making it harder for anyone else. I don't want to change myself. I don't want to lose the one thing that makes me... me. I just want the people who are sucking the money out of my wallet to understand that they've got me as a customer for life, and they don't need to keep making me pay just to get along. Can you... I dunno. Give them an epiphany and make them wake up to themselves? You know... enough to make them nicer people to people like me?"

And the angles spake thusly, That shall be given.

The angles vanished. Life returned to what passed for normal. Carl still had to stab his soul on a nightly basis just to get enough money to rent his apps.

And then a miracle happened. A disease swept civilisation. It didn't impair more than a head cold, but a few weeks after recovery... they had dyslexia. Suddenly, they were in the very same boat Carl was in. There was a global demand for the things Carl needed every day. And at much lower prices.

The fonts that Carl could read sprang up all over the place. Books were reprinted due to popular demand.

All the doors that were locked, now opened. So to speak. Carl had to change his act a little, but the prayer remained the same.

And, just as it began, it stopped. People found they could read as they used to. But they never forgot what it had been like. They feared that it would happen again. And life... life became less of a pain in the anatomy.

He could even tell more normal jokes.

[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / blackboard1965]

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