The Quite Bearable Lightness of Being a Jackass

His name is Victor which is kind of a sad name for a jackass. He moved to New York to attend college and never went home again. He wanted to be like all the chic people he saw. He wanted their clothes, their apartments, their lives. He cut his hair, colored it, too. Got a mid level job at a big company which he told everybody was much more important than it really was. "I'm the head of my division," he brayed to anyone who would listen, "My boss is a moron. She doesn't know half of what I do." Years went by and Victor got older. Still for all his striving, he felt had nothing and city life was getting him down. He decided to make some changes. He got some nice pills from his doctor which made him feel better about himself and he opined constantly as an expert on many subjects. Soon friends tired of him. "Look what I can do for you!" he said to empty rooms, "I'm really very important." Alas, Victor never noticed his own buffoonery and was doomed to spend the rest of his days nuzzling against the split rail fences of his own mind.