Three Guys Die

"So, an absurdist, an existentialist, and a nihilist walk into a bar... No, that's not a set up for a bad joke. I'm a prophet and that's our future. The three of us, tonight. Drinks at The Old Tavern." Rudy beams at his friends and pushes his brand-new glasses higher on his nose.

Paul brushes his dark hair out of his face. "Yeah, that sounds good. We're due for a dude's night. Finals are over, let's cut loose!"

But Zack scratches his red beard. "I dunno."

Rudy smiles. "What don't you know?"

"I don't know anything. That's all I know for certain."

Paul slaps his shoulder. "Okay there Socrates, simmer down."

"Bro, fuck that. Socrates was a douche. When he said he didn't know shit, he was bragging. Like he was the only one smart enough to know how little he knew. I'm not bragging. I'm despairing. I don't know fuck-all and it's wearing me down, man."

"Sorry Zack, but hey. You gotta know something. Right? Like, can't we agree the sky is blue?"

Zack cracks a reluctant smile. "Sure. The sky is blue. I'm not a solipsist. I'm just saying... The whole world's gone off the rails and I can't make it make sense. And it doesn't mean a goddamn thing. You know?"

Paul grins. "For a dude bragging about how little he knows, you sound a tad confident about that last bit."

Zack grunts and says: "Well, it doesn't take a genius to see this is all pointless."

Rudy takes his glasses off and cleans them. "So how ya liking nihilism, Zack? Working well for ya?"

"Man... I fucking hate it."

When the other two stop laughing Zack says, "All joking aside, our generation hungers for purpose. We want careers that mean something. I want that too. But I'm up against the truth. Doesn't matter what job I land. It might affect my happiness, but who gives a flying fuck? There are families blown to pieces and kids buried in rubble in Gaza-- who am I to demand meaning? In a world where people starve for no reason, while shit-stains like Musk live in obscene luxury? How can my job or even my life mean anything? Hell, I could die today, and it wouldn't mean diddly-shit."

Paul frowns. "That's bleak. Don't you know you'd be missed? Rudy and I for sure. We'd miss you and your motivational speeches. So uplifting."

Zack lets out a hearty guffaw and a few students passing by look their way.

"I know you guys would miss me. So? I'd miss you too, if... you know. But I'm just smudge of earth with some fleeting sense of feeling. In just a little time, we'll all be gone. The universe will march on, totally indifferent."

Rudy smiles. "It's all meaningless. Big deal! Is that gonna stop you from drinking tonight?"

Zack grins too. "You know damn well it isn't. I'm a prophet too: first round's on me."

"Attaboy!" Paul laughs. "Life has no meaning, so tonight we'll just make our own!"

"Don't push him too far." Rudy holds up a hand in caution. "Nihilists consider that cheating. We can get drunk, but it damn well better mean zilch-- to each of us. Ya heard?"

Zack guffaws again. "That's not very charitable of you, Rudy. It wont bother me if Paul plays pretend about all this." He offers a sweeping gesture, to encompass the campus or the whole world.

Then he thuds Rudy's chest with his fist, "Like your homeboy said, YOLO!"

"My homeboy?"

Zack smiles. "Yep, your main man, Albert Camus. He invented YOLO, back in the day. Word for word. Direct quote."

Rudy chuckles. "Ya know, maybe Camus would have liked the phrase. I wonder how--

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

The report comes from somewhere and everywhere. Chaos rushes down upon them.

The Nihilist's red beard is redder now. He's dead before he hits the ground. But his friends never miss him, they're far too bewildered and they have too little time.

The Existentialist's dark hair is a mop around his face, but it cannot hide his grimace. He paws at the hole in his gut and cries, "Oh God-- oh God-- oh fuck!"

And as he lies dying, the Absurdist sees his brand-new glasses on the concrete in front of him. He hears more gunfire and he hears screams. He sees the lenses are scratched from their fall to the concrete.... And he thinks that was some shit luck.

***

A nihilist, an existentialist, and an absurdist walk into a bar, ribbing each other and laughing.

The Bartender smiles and his eyes shine like the sun. "What'll it be?"

Zack stammers. "Uh... wha--uh whaddya have?"

"Everything. I've got Henny. I've got Tanqueray. I've even got the Blood of the New and Everlasting Covenant. You know, the Stuff that was shed for you and for all, et cetera. That's sorta why you still are."

Paul's mouth hangs open for a moment. "Oh God! Oh God? You're real? I'd always hoped."

Zack frowns. "I guess I was wrong. If you're real, life meant something after all. Were we supposed to worship you? Holy shit, man."

And the Bartender shook his head. "Not really. I created you guys-- I mean guys in the universal sense, as in all creation-- kinda for kicks and kinda for giggles. And maybe also, to see if that would give Me a sense of purpose. But.... Well, I've seen what you all got up to back there. And I dunno. Life is messy. You can create meaning if that helps. Ultimately, life happens! That means sucky things like getting gunned down in the quad. But it also means laughter and love. Might as well seize the day!"

Rudy doubles over, wheezing from the strain of sudden, explosive laughter. "That's the meaning of life? Live, laugh, love and yolo?!"

The Bartender shrugs. "Does there need to be more to it? You're here. So what'll it be?"

***

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Absurdism

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Existentialism

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nihilism