Disappointed

The champion of snakes looked unusually tired. He only carried half of what he usually drinks too. Slithered instead of jumping around. His hat wasn't placed as perfectly as it usually is, making him look rather pathetic. All that didn't stop him from angrily hissing.

He didn't seem to look for a fight though, smart me deduced that from his exclamation of "no fight, beak-face".

Holding myself back from investing my smoothie to clean that dirty face of his, I taunted: "What's wrong, flick-tooth?", and took two steps backwards.

A "Hotheads!" thundered across the room and captured our attention, stopping us from exchanging hostile gazes. It took me a few seconds to realize that the angry patron, an elderly crocodile (I hate crocodiles!) that was lying on a big and fluffy teal pillow, hadn't shouted, but spoken in a fairly low volume, a whisper at best. Carl also looked puzzled, probably drawing the same conclusion. He expertly managed to hold on to his beverage though.

"You two remind me of when I was younger. Please do me a favour and keep me company. Listen to my rambling for a bit."

I didn't hesitate and drew closer, listening to stories of the elderly is almost always worth it. Moreover, I had already finished what I came here for, so I figured I might as well stay a little longer. Still had some smoothie left too. Observing my decision, Carl also started slithering towards the crocodile. Not sure if he had any plans besides drinking before coming here, but that's none of my business.

"Hmm, where do I start? Ah yes, I still remember twenty years ago, I was younger, like the two of you! I could run like a cheetah and swim like a dolphin! Fly like a hawk too! I always beat my rivals in games of wit and could eat like…" He started rambling.

My expression started to drop. Kept on accelerating too, quickly approaching the critical threshold. The crocodile felt that something didn't go according to plan when Carl took off his hat and suspiciously stuffed his face inside. Not sure what he was doing, maybe looking for some rabbit.

"Oh sorry! Where are my manners?" He showed an appeasing smile.

"You know? When I start talking, then I keep on talking. Back then when I was younger, I could talk and talk and talk, faster than a cheetah and louder than a whale! I could speak different languages too! Could talk in two different languages at the same time! Talk about…"

He gave us a knowing look. Not sure, but it felt like this long-snout was humouring us.

"Hehe, but that was back then! Now, I'm a bigger and better crocodile than ever before! With one simple trick!"

I didn't like where this was going. Was he trying to recruit us (US!!!) into some kind of cult? Maybe sell us pyjamas? He quickly reinforced our doubts:

"I'm not trying to cheat you guys. It really changed my life!"

Suspicious.

"In fact, when I was at the darkest time of my life, the nadir of my existence, I witnessed the light. Clung to it with all I had. You want to find out what I found?"

He continued in a patronizing tone:

"I won't tell you", and showed us a self-satisfied smirk.

I turned my head and looked around. Nope, no dishonest donkey selling funny herbs was lurking nearby. No restricted-medicine-slug either. Carl had success finding whatever he was looking for, considering he held a knife in his mouth. His expression was some funky mix of puzzlement, pouting and menacing. It's just that he couldn't talk without dropping the knife, leaving his threats unsaid.

The crocodile on the other hand laughed. In the most teasing tone he could muster, he then added:

"Are you maaaaaaaad?"

I swear if he weren't lying on the ground, he'd look down his nose at us. I was starting to get annoyed. Does this guy even tell stories? Did I just waste 10 minutes listening to some confused toothed stapler?

Carl on the other hand, whose eyes sparkled with malice, seemed torn between dropping his weapon to hurl insults and ferociously poking the croc with his knife. I doubted that he was falling for the provocation, it probably had to do with the fact that his drink was now lukewarm and the conversation hadn't even started.

The crocodile, oblivious of his certain death, cheerfully continued his monologue:

"Let me tell you, I was like that too. Always angry!"

I started looking for popcorn when I noticed that the crocodile had his eyes closed. Now that explained a lot actually. As if he felt his imminent death, he suddenly turned serious. Carl could feel it too and slowly relaxed his striking pose.

It was strange, the air started tasting differently, the already modest lighting turned two shades darker and the surrounding chatter became distorted, muffled even. The crocodile only spit out one word, in the same bellowing manner that it had used to interrupt our quarrel.

"Disappointment!"

After taking a rhetoric pause, probably to emphasize his revelation, he continued:

"The answer is…" (another short pause) "disappointment!"

I suppose that's a statement. He wasn't even close to stopping though:

"Disappointment is the solution to all our problems!"

While I was sceptical at first, he managed to wholeheartedly convince me: This gentlecroc was a deceitful cult leader trying to inculcate the two of us with his 'philosophy of disappointment', attempting to recruit new acolytes to fund his fun bar adventures.

Knowing that this was neither going to end soon, nor pretty, I hunkered down in resignation and silently accepted my fate of having to listen to this lunatic. Carl seemed to agree with that sentiment. He had dropped his knife and was now burying his face in whichever drink he had ordered.

The crocodile opened his eyes, which, by the way, seemed to radiate crazy, and fervently continued:

"Hatred bears hatred. A commonly referenced saying. Everyone has probably heard of it once or twice at least. It's easy to understand too."

"This guy hit me, leaving me with two options. I can either hit him back, or I can store my anger. I then retaliate with a snarky remark the next time we see each other. Now he remembers my action and treats me with contempt. I get angry. Anger turns into wrath. Wrath turns into hatred. What if I told you that the guy was drunk, turned around too fast and then hit me in the process? Forgot to apologize due to being buzzed? Maybe didn't even notice hitting me?"

"Another example: The supermarket still doesn't have the specially treated tender beef for sale, even though the manager told me multiple times that he'd look into it! I get frustrated, my tail knocks the shopping bag of some ferret over. Goods spill everywhere and the ferret gets mad too."

He lowered his voice towards the end of the sentence and paused to scratch his nose with the help of a table leg. Took a sip of some drink that I hadn't noticed up until this point. He intently sized the both of us up, sighed heavily and then resumed his lecture, his firm and well-chosen words effortlessly penetrating the background noise:

"What if I told you that there's one feeling that can compete with anger, frustration, wrath or even hatred? A feeling that can take their role? As I've eluded to earlier, the answer to this problem is disappointment."

"I shouldn't get angry that some stupid onion-head hit me. I should be disappointed that he decided to hit me out of the blue. I'm disappointed that the manager still hasn't managed to acquire the food I want, even though I've already reminded him three times. Then I wouldn't have lashed out with my tail. The ferret could have been disappointed that I didn't pay attention, rather than escalating the situation. Then I could have avoided all the trouble that comes with eating another sentient animal out of panic."

He sighed again, mumbled something along the lines of "unpleasant memories" and moved into a more comfortable position. I was starting to understand what he wanted to convey. He wasn't finished though, and resolutely pressed on:

"You see? Disappointment does a lot for you. But of course, like all things, there's a catch. There is one requirement that you absolutely need in order to see the light: You need to give others a baseline, a standard that they have to abide by 'in your mind'. You need to expect things from others, if you don't expect anyone to act correctly in the situation in question, then how can you be disappointed by their obviously insufficient actions?"

"You might ask: where do I get said standard? Easy. Just take your own moral standards and project your actions. If you have some form of self-confidence and ambition, then you, as a spectator, can assign a superior cause of action to every misstep taken."

He took another sip.

"If used correctly, then this philosophy can alleviate tensions with ease. Now I can see things from a different point of view: He shouldn't have hit me, but he did. This leaves me disappointed. I called his colour-blindness the result of his incompetent fathers' genes. He should have been disappointed that I stooped so low, rather than getting angry over me insulting his beloved father, who coincidentally succumbed to his severe illness one week ago after four months of gruesome battle. Blinded by my short-sighted anger, I not only managed to upset someone for life, his retort furthermore expertly sullied my image in front of six bystanders."

He invested a few seconds to look at us and said: "Don't do that.", before continuing:

"Disappointment does so much more though. Rather than inciting action, like frustration or hatred would, it encourages reflection: This stupid but superior crocodile knocked my bag over, which leaves me disappointed. Rather than snapping and trying to scratch his eyes out, I could maybe try to figure out why his tail slipped."

"Note that it's fine to get upset here. The ferret could have exclaimed: "Excuse me?!" or "Hello?" and made me help him collect his groceries. Could have given me time to recognize my mistake. Animals usually have reasons for their actions. If they don't, then the action probably was unintentional. If there are any actions that you can immediately forgive without second thought, then it's those that happened by accident."

He took a deep breath. "I hope you understood the gist of what I was trying to tell you."

The atmosphere turned back to normal. Lighting was still bad, but the chatter in the background went up a notch on the annoyance-scale. The air also shifted from this peculiar smell towards the typical tavern-reek.

The crocodile stood up, probably because his drink was empty. Carl had finished his drink without me noticing, as he was resting his head on the cup that he had placed upside down. Judging by the lack of wet spots near the rim of his mug, he completely finished the drink. Not wasting a drop! Impressive efficiency you got there, Mr. snake. I still had some left, much to my own surprise. Wondering if the speech had ended, I questioned:

"This seems like a very easy thing to say."

He had lost a lot of his energy over the course of his monologue. Looked as if he had aged for another ten years. Despite that, he earnestly replied:

"It's a long process. If you intend to implement it into your own train of thought and decision-making, then don't expect success immediately. It all depends on how talented you are, how bitter you've become over the course of the years. It requires constant training, but that's not only easy to come by, it's also fairly simple to train. Just catch your wrong thoughts like anger and hatred and try to correct them. I'm still far from where I want to be. The sooner you start, the better it will be though."

He paused, probably thinking about something.

"The best time to start is now."

I bade farewell to the crocodile (and not to the pesky snake!) and started walking towards the counter in order to return my mug, emptying the drink in the process. Didn't bump into anyone this time.

Turned out that the conclusion I drew earlier was flat out wrong. This madcroc appeared to be 100% committed to his cause. Tried to spread his philosophy with indefatigable passion, not to gain any advantages for himself, but out of his conviction that what he did was the right thing to do. His attempt to bring harmony to society, no, to the entire world. Ran out of ideas and ended up preaching in Old Bear's bar. Nothing but respect for this fellow, whose beliefs eclipsed an omegaphant (fairy tale animals which are incredibly strong to the point where they are almost omnipotent) in raw power.

I slowly walked and eventually reached home without any further delay. Headed straight to bed, still processing the things I had witnessed. It took me quite some time to fall asleep.