Zopas and Stance were a couple of criminals whose specialty was robbing graves. Zopas had no moral qualms about the way he made his living. His philosophy was that life is a jungle and there is no such thing as good or evil. For most of his life, Stance perceived reality in similar fashion—but lately, he was beginning to ask himself if such an outlook was morally reprehensible.
"Zopas, do you ever wonder why we're here?" asked Stance.
These two derelicts were headed toward yet another heist at two in the morning, their mode of transportation a red SUV covered in stickers proclaiming its owner’s support of various musicians, politicians, and recreational drugs. Upon hearing this question, Zopas released an exaggerated sigh.
For the past several weeks, Stance was becoming a bit of a downer. All Zopas wanted to do was commit acts of thievery, abuse dangerous substances, and get various forms of stank on his appendage. He figured he would engage in these sorts of activities until curtain call, at which point he would fall into an eternal bout of dreamless sleep. Having already figured out the meaning of life, he was unable to relate to Stance's existential crisis.
"Here we go again," Zopas lamented.
"I've been reading this book which suggests that robbing graves isn't an honest way to make a living," said Stance.1
"That book is turning your thinking process into an unreasonable jumble of chaotic non-sequiturs. There's no such thing as truth."
"So you'd argue against the claim that we're currently inside a red sports utility vehicle?" asked Stance, attempting to figure out whether Zopas sincerely believed the perspective he was espousing.
"I'm not even convinced that I actually exist," Zopas responded, a pompous smirk upon his pimpled face. "I'd argue pretty much anything if the money's right. I have absolutely zero ethical standards to which I feel obligated to adhere."
"Lately, I've been feeling pangs of guilt inside my stomach whenever we’re in the process of disturbing the caskets of the deceased," Stance confessed.
"Those pangs of guilt aren't going to feed your numerous bastard offspring," Zopas pointed out. "I think you need to throw that book away. It seems to be producing an unwarranted physiological response inside your body, clearly psychosomatic—you might benefit from a lobotomy, or perhaps the wonders of pharmakeia.”
For the time being, Stance chose to ignore these pangs of guilt in order to facilitate the mindset required to unearth a casket, pry it open, and then steal whatever might be inside. The anticipation of new wealth helped to alleviate the signals that Stance's conscience was producing within his abdominal area. He and his associate each retrieved a shovel from the back of the SUV and went about the business of stealing whatever treasure might be buried alongside a random, worm-eaten corpse.
As per usual, payday was a bit of a disappointment. While in the process of extracting a casket from its place of rest in order to ransack whatever might be inside, the imagination tended to run a bit wild—anything could be inside: a flux capacitor, the spear of destiny, perhaps even one's soulmate. However, the reality of the situation tended toward the less than glamorous, this occasion being no different. Once the casket was dislodged from the ground and its lid unsealed, the big reveal was nothing more than a cache of canned sardines. Disappointment ensued.
"I know life is a gift, but does it always have to be socks?" Zopas rhetoricized.
"On the bright side, at least we don't have a rotting cadaver to contend with," said Stance.
"Why would someone bury sardines in the graveyard?" asked Zopas. "This is giving me the creeps—let's get out of here."
"Your paranoia is making me paranoid. Do you think we're being set up?"
"In regard to consequences resulting from my lifestyle choices, I fluctuate between utmost paranoia and extreme indifference," said Zopas. "Right now, I'm experiencing the former.”
"I don't understand why a casket full of sardines is making you so jumpy," said Stance. "It doesn't make any sense."
"It's because at this very moment, amphetamine is the dominant substance coursing through my veins," Zopas replied. "If it was fentanyl, I'd be more relaxed, or perhaps even passed out."
This was an accurate analysis, as Zopas wasn’t a particularly reliable sinner. Philosophically, he was more staunchly aligned with the lifestyle of criminality than was Stance. His sense of morality was highly pragmatic, meaning that it changed moment-to-moment in order to justify whatever it is he happened to be doing. His central focus in existence was satisfying his body’s numerous addictions, a perpetual chasing of increasingly elusive dragons.
However, due to a severe lack of self-discipline, he was also more inclined toward being unsuccessful at a given act of mischief. For example, during a recent job in which he was contracted to dump industrial poison into a pristine lake, Zopas became convinced that the substance he was dispelling was in actuality a delicious bubblegum flavored beverage manufactured by one of the world's most powerful soda companies. Its consumption, he reasoned, would lead to a heightened sense of health and well-being.
For several minutes, he heroically wrestled with this fallacy. At a core level, Zopas knew that the act of temporarily thinking that industrial poison was in reality bubblegum soda probably didn’t make it so. Ultimately, lunacy reigned victorious. He placed a couple teaspoons into his cough syrup, instantaneously lowering his IQ score by ten points. By evening's end, he was down an additional seven.
"I'm glad you're feeling energized," said Stance. "We'll be able to load these sardine cans into the SUV in a jumping jack flash."
"Are you kidding me? I want nothing to do with a load of canned fish. In fact, I'm offended that reality would offer me such pathetic payment for my hard work."
"This is a great score," said Stance. "It will nourish our bodies, enabling us to survive at least a few more days in this clownish hellhole in which we find ourselves trapped."
"I don't want any sardines," said Zopas. "They're probably full of mercury."
"Will you at least help me load them into the SUV?"
"I will not. If you want this stupid merchandise, you can load it yourself. I'll be in the SUV, blasting music with horrendously vile lyrics that promote wanton acts of depraved cruelty.”
Annoyed by his associate's selfishness, Stance placed ten cans of sardines into his coat and got into the passenger seat so they could exit the graveyard before the law showed up. Before dropping him off at his apartment, Zopas insisted upon stopping at a perpetually open Burger Hut for a nightcap. When Zopas ordered two fish sandwiches and a caviar-mayonnaise smoothie, Stance realized it was time to start keeping less nonsensical company.
〰
While lying in bed, Stance heard a noise coming from the kitchen. Wondering if his home was being invaded by cultural enrichment, he retrieved a baseball bat from underneath his bed. He traced the noise to a counter, on which was placed his ill-gotten stack of sardine cans, one of which was emanating a persistent tapping sound. Stance peeled the lid off this particular can, revealing that one of its inhabitants was still alive. It was a miracle. He placed his new roommate inside a bowl filled with fluoridated water and named him Crapton.
“You’re my new best friend,” said Stance, hugging the bowl.
“I love you,” said Crapton, bubbles ascending toward the barrier dividing water and atmosphere.
“I love you too! I’m going to take care of you until one of us meets his demise.”
“I think you’ll go before I do,” Crapton speculated. “Unless you start making some lifestyle changes.”
“I’ve been thinking about walking away from my criminal lifestyle,” said Stance. “I could do something positive with my time, like read books to old folks inside the nursing home.”
“You should probably stop hanging out with that nerd who drives the SUV,” Crapton suggested. “He seems like bad news.”
“I suppose I could start keeping better company,” said Stance.
“Will you show me around the city tomorrow?” asked Crapton. “Maybe take me to the park?”
“I can absolutely do that,” Stance responded, excited by the prospect of attracting his soulmate into his life via the process of her witnessing him nurturing Crapton in the public arena.
“That’s swell,” said Crapton. “I’m going to sleep now. Thanks for giving me a new home."
The next morning, Stance quietly snuck out of his apartment so he could purchase his new best friend some organic pellets and a spacious home from Aquarium Barn. He was hoping to accomplish this task while Crapton resided in a state of slumber in order to provide the sardine with a pleasant surprise upon waking. As luck would have it, Aquarium Barn was having a sale, so he was able to purchase the aforementioned items at a reasonable price.
While exiting the store, Zopas pulled up in his red SUV, his pupils the size of saucers.
“I just caught wind of a fantastic score, but we need to go now,” said Zopas, tweeked out of his mind.
“You want to rob a grave in the light of morning? That sounds extremely stupid.”
“Stupid? This isn’t stupid—it’s absolutely brilliant. Think about it, nobody expects a grave to be robbed during the early stage of morning.”
“I’m going to pass,” said Stance. “I made a commitment to my fish. So I’m gonna go home and walk my fish.”
And that is what he did. Had he gone along with Zopas, he would’ve ended up in prison. Instead, he ended up having a much more fulfilling day with his new best friend.
“Thou shalt not steal.” - Exodus 20:15