Into each life, some rain will fall, as the expression goes. And also, into each person’s home, some cursed objects will unintentionally be brought. SOME. The operative word there being “SOME,” and NOT “many.” But I guess THIS guy didn’t get the memo, because I have brought home a shitload of stuff with curses on them from various curio shops. I’m beginning to think I’m cursed, and not just by the curses they keep putting on me.

Take the looking glass I snapped up in that weird shop I never noticed before just down the street from my house. It was kinda funky, but kinda cool! My best friend got a weird vibe from it and my mom ordered me to not bring it into the house, but it TOLD me it could change my whole life for the better, so of course I set it up in my room! And it DID make me the coolest kid at school, but then it turned me evil and killed everyone who got in its way! UGH.

So I smashed the mirror with this ancient dagger I had picked up at a little store that seemed to just appear from nowhere downtown. Just a standard-issue, basic ceremonial dagger that is all over the typical house like roaches, right?

WRONG. Turns out, of all the crazy 5,000-year-old blades I could have bought by happenstance out of all the mysterious stores that weren’t there still 24 hours later, THIS dummy had to buy one that was CURSED. Just when I had gotten un-evil again, the dagger re-turned me evil and somehow double killed all my adversaries and well-meaning friends.

So I was like, I am done with all these dodgy small-time curio shops. And even though I hate supporting big businesses, I went to a big box chain curio store to find a portal opener so that I could dump this stupid magic knife in it. My THIRD mistake. Oh boy. The portal opener: CURSED. The receipt: weirdly long and CURSED. The complimentary curse: CURSED!

Needless to say, I had to pack it all in my car and drive all the way out to Mount Doom, which is a HAUL, let me tell you. It’s a damn haul. That I had to call out of work to make. And sure, I was down in the dumps about the many curses that had killed my friends, revived my friends as zombies, re-killed them, and turned me more kinds of evil than you can shake a stick at, so I stopped off for some snacks along the way.

Now, don’t get ahead of me, here. But yes, the hot dog was cursed, the soda cursed, the long-term ecological impact of the gas only slightly mitigated by the seasonal additives intended to reduce smog and improve local air quality, and the “I Heart Mount Doom” bumper sticker was CURSED.

And while I was able to eradicate most of those curses by dumping the objects into Mount Doom as well, I still accidentally stepped on a cursed bug that was additionally HAUNTED, and the ghost haunting that bug? Yeah man, you freaking guessed it, that ghost is cursed, and he’s passing on the cursings to me!

So I could be feeling sorry for myself. And am I, at least a little bit? Sure. But I am not going to let all these curses that keep nearly killing me before I manage to overcome them, only to incur even more curses and various predatory loans (which are not directly the cause of the cursed objects, but do result from the reduced income I have experienced while engaged in curse battles between 40-50 hours a week) from changing who I am.

Because I am a dreamer. And I am an optimist. And yes, I am going to buy this busted-ass 1979 Ford Mustang Limited Cursed Edition and fix it up. Because I believe the uncursed sun’ll come out tomorrow.