(313)

Every morning he wrote a suicide note in his journal. It was a form of therapy that allowed him to exercise all the negativity in his mind so that he would have a good day.
His day job was that of a deprogrammer. He found the spoiled, brainwashed children of rich white people and gently coaxed them away from the cults, religions and societies they’d been so easily lured into.
One day he lost his book of fictional suicide letters, it was a sad day, but it forced him to realize that maybe he’d been doing the exercise longer than he should have. He had a good day in spite of it all.
In the months that followed, he began to notice that more and more of the people he’d been sent to deprogram were saying things that sounded familiar to him.
This is when it dawned on him that someone had found his suicide book and formed a religion based on it. People started loitering around his home. People started following him everywhere he went. People started camping out in his yard and chanting.
He had inadvertently become the reluctant God of a suicide cult.
The fellow that was sent to deprogram HIM didn’t believe that it was all a misunderstanding, and suggested to his supervisors that he was too dangerous to remain among the people.
In jail, the Suicide God decided that it wouldn’t hurt if he occasionally had conjugal sex with one of his barely legal followers. In 15 years when he was released, he was met by a legion of followers.
He tried to explain to them that it was all a misunderstanding, but they thought that it was all a test. They, in response, all committed suicide.
He was able to get a job with a less reputable deprogramming company than the one he’d worked at before.
He died of old age 25 years later.