Evanescence Concert

***EVANESCENCE CONCERT***

It’s been a rough last few days here at the Haines-Temons-Stevens-Wilson household. A shouting match broke out, tears rolled down, and my mom couldn’t go to bed without a shoulder massage from yours truly. I’m not ready to give the details just yet, so please respect my family’s privacy. All I want to say for now is that I’m looking forward to seeing Evanescence perform at the White River Amphitheater on September 7^th. Amy Lee’s beautiful voice is certainly a comfort to anybody with a broken heart.

Truth is, I didn’t buy Evanescence’s three studio albums until earlier this year. The only song of theirs I had on my computer was the album version of “My Immortal”. That song got me through a lot of rough shit over the years whether it was a pet’s death, a hot argument, or just being lonely in my room. My mom got me their symphonic album Synthesis for Christmas in 2017 and I have reason to believe Evanescence’s concert in September will be symphonic as well. I’m strangely okay with there being no mosh pits or wild behavior at this concert. Symphonic music is comforting in its own right, so I’m destined to have a good time.

Accompanying the band onstage will be a violinist by the name of Lindsay Stirling. I’ve never listened to her music before, but judging from what I’ve researched, she specializes in electronic pop and some of her own symphonic music. Even though I don’t listen to this kind of music on a regular basis, I’m also strangely okay with Miss Stirling being an opener for Evanescence. I remember getting some head-bobbing enjoyment out of Grabbitz (electronic pop DJ) at the Starset concert back in February, so this will be no different.

At the end of the day, it’s all about having fun and being in the moment. This concert will be the perfect way to soothe my worries and get me back on the right track. The 7^th of September also happens to be the due date for editing Savage Beatings as well as the day after my biological father’s 68^th birthday. Spoiler alert: I’ve finished round two of editing several days ahead of schedule. I’m counting on there being a round three and beyond, but that’s neither here nor there. Marie told me I needed more details, so hopefully I’ve done that. I’ll be rocking out in her honor since she too loves Evanescence and Lindsay Stirling. Hell, I’d take her with me if we lived in the same city.

But now that we’re on the topic of creative work, the elephant in the room, of course, is the lack of activity in the Incelbordination department. Yes, I’ve been busy prettying up Savage Beatings (there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say), but the WSS still needs their weekly dose of Garrisonian magic (okay, that sounded self-indulgent). I’ll find the time to work on my WIP novel eventually. Hell, it’s not about “finding time”. It’s about doing the fucking thing.

In addition to fucking around with Incelbordination, I still have to rewrite the chapter-by-chapter blueprints for Beautiful Monster. After the radical changes Marie suggested, I’ve decided to rewrite the entire novel from the ground up. Tarja Rikkinen needs to be likeable, the villains need purposes other than just being evil, Windham Xavier needs to be distinguishable from other characters, and elves in general need to be distinguishable from their human counterparts. There are plenty of other problems that need addressing, but I won’t list them all in this blog. I have the new novel planned up until the point where Kody Savage force-feeds Windham a bunch of medicinal leaves and renders him unconscious. Medicinal leaves make more sense than psychedelic mushrooms. The question is, after Kody binds and gags Windham and takes him back to home base…what happens then?

August was a hell of a month, but September is yet another mountain to be climbed, both professionally and personally. But just like with other obstacles in my life, I will not only survive, but I will conquer with a scorched earth policy. Positivity isn’t about pretending everything’s okay. It’s about believing in your own abilities to improve your situation in life. I can do this. We all can do this. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I’m so tired of being here. Suppressed by all my childish fears. And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave. ‘Cause your presence still lingers here and it won’t leave me alone. These wounds won’t seem to heal. This pain is just too real. There’s just too much that time cannot erase. When you cried, I’d wipe away all of your tears. When you screamed, I’d fight away all of your fears. And I held your hand all these years, but you still have all of me. You used to captivate me by your resonating light. Now I’m bound by the life you left behind. Your face, it haunts my once pleasant dreams. Your voice, it chased away all the sanity in me. I’ve tried so hard to tell myself that you’re gone. But though you’re still with me, I’ve been alone all along.”

-Evanescence singing “My Immortal”-

Flight Plan

MOVIE TITLE: Flight Plan

DIRECTOR: Robert Schwentke

YEAR: 2005

GENRE: Mystery Thriller

RATING: PG-13 for language and violence

GRADE: Pass

Kyle Pratt and her six-year-old daughter Julia are flying from Berlin to New York City with Kyle’s dead husband stowed away in a coffin underneath the plane. Kyle takes a short nap and awakens to find her daughter missing. She goes around the plane asking everybody where she is and nobody can give her an answer. Upon further inspection, Julia Pratt was never even on the flight manifest. Kyle’s search becomes more frantic and her anger has the other passengers worried about their own safety. Has the grief of her husband made her delusional or is there a bigger conspiracy at work here? Nobody has these answers for Kyle because nobody onboard cares about her.

The mark of any good mystery is being able to keep the audience guessing until the climax. I kept watching because I genuinely wanted to know what on earth happened to Julia. There was even a time when I bought into the theory that Kyle was delusional. This is cinematic gas-lighting at its finest and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. While I won’t reveal Kyle and Julia’s fates, I will say that the movie’s harshest criticisms are misplaced. Some say the plot is over-the-top or confusing, but I don’t agree with that at all. Everything is perfectly clear by the story’s ending. A little cheesy at times, but clear nonetheless. Maybe the critics need to watch it multiple times in order to piece everything together, but the pieces are there and no stone is left unturned.

The one thing I agree with critics on is that the acting is superb no matter which character is being portrayed. Kyle Pratt is a convincing mother who just wants the best for her daughter. Whether it’s the tender moments they have together or the mother’s near psychotic search for Julia, Jodie Foster was perfect for the role and I wouldn’t want anybody else playing Kyle. Even the whiny passengers who kept getting on each other’s nerves had me convinced this was real whether it was kids slapping each other, parents wanting peace and quiet, or xenophobic Americans getting in scuffles with Arab passengers.

The one controversy I need to address as far as acting goes, however, is the portrayal of the flight crew. Apparently, their “rude and uncaring” attitudes painted actual fight attendants in a negative light. I personally don’t see this as a blanket statement. I see it as an intricate part of this well-crafted mystery. Everybody is supposed to be against Kyle Pratt because they think she’s crazy. Why should the flight crew be any different than the passengers who clapped for her getting handcuffed by the air marshal? While Kyle’s anger is well-placed, if taken out of context, it would be annoying to a bunch of passengers who’ve been on the plane for north of six hours. I’ve been on irritating flights before and I was seething deep inside, just like any rational person would be. Don’t look for controversy where there is none. We’re all human and we all get angry.

The movie received mixed reviews from critics, but I happened to find Flight Plan to my liking. I went into the movie expecting to be on the edge of my seat and that’s exactly what happened. Sure, Flight Plan isn’t anything mind-blowing or overly-philosophical, but it doesn’t have to be. Not every cinematic masterpiece has to be deep and profound. Sometimes it’s just meant to be enjoyed. Flight Plan gets a passing grade from little old me.

Stupid Rabbit

***STUPID RABBIT***

It’s no secret that Looney Tunes had a huge influence on me as a kid and still does as an adult. Many of my Poison Tongue Tales entries have been compared to Looney Tunes cartoons and I take that as a compliment. My mom is also a Looney Tunes fan, so much so that I got her a DVD collection of the cartoons as a Mother’s Day present one year. I guess you could say that it’s a family tradition to be a fan of this genre. That’s why when I saw a You Tube video of Yosemite Sam’s piano bomb prank on Bugs Bunny, I had to make it a part of my motivational self-talk.

What happens in this cartoon is Yosemite Sam rigs a grand piano with dynamite that’s set to go off when a certain key is struck. He then challenges Bugs Bunny to play a song on that piano where one of the notes is the detonation key. Bugs cracks his knuckles and plays the song without striking the key. Furious, Yosemite Sam yells, “No, that’s not it! Try again!” Bugs tries again and still fails to hit the trigger key. Sam then screams, “Oh, you stupid rabbit! Like this!” Although Sam played it the correct way, he triggered his own trap and blew his facial hair off. This piano bomb gag was common in Warner Brothers cartoons, but Yosemite Sam’s version is the one that sticks out to me the most.

Now whenever I make a grave mistake in either my writing or my drawings, I mentally yell to myself in Yosemite Sam’s voice, “No, you stupid rabbit! Try again!” It sounds negative on the surface, but it’s Yosemite Sam’s voice, so it’s actually a giggly form of motivation. And it’s true: in the world of creative work where introversion is the key to getting shit done, you get an endless supply of chances to make things right. You’ve written a first draft novel? Try again! You’ve miscalculated the limbs on a drawing? Try again, you stupid rabbit! Although, you won’t ever have to worry about your keyboard or colored pencils being hooked up to a bomb.

In a world where everybody is telling artists to give up and get STEM jobs, you need as much positive motivation as you can possibly get. Even though Yosemite Sam is yelling “Stupid rabbit”, I get a chuckle out of it instead of getting down in the dumps. Being able to laugh at yourself is the most powerful thing you can do as an artist. If you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?

Although having a massive ego is completely natural (we all have one whether we admit it or not), being able to tame that ravenous beast is one hundred percent necessary. That doesn’t mean you can’t believe in your own ability to improve. It just means that not all critical advice is bad. I paid Marie Krepps to critique Beautiful Monster and she delivered the goods and more. Now I’m contemplating rewriting the whole story from scratch to accommodate the radical changes she suggested. And while I’m doing it, I’ll be hearing Yosemite Sam’s voice echo in my brain.

“No, you stupid rabbit! Try again!”

You have no fucking idea how good that feels. I love the Looney Tunes, damn it! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***PROVERB OF THE DAY***

“There are two motives for reading a book. One, that you can enjoy it. The other, that you can boast about it.”

-Bertrand Russell-

Incelbordination, Chapter 11

“Oswald Roman Crow (ORC?), you’re under arrest for drug possession and conspiracy to commit terrorism. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to legal counsel. If you cannot afford your own attorney, the government will provide you with a public defender. Do you understand each of these rights as I’ve read them to you?”

“…It’s eleven o’clock at night. Give me a fucking break.”

“Fair enough. Come on, let’s go.”

Still exhausted from his temper tantrum, Oswald couldn’t even find it in his soul to resist Detective Mia Barry’s arrest. Then again, how could he with all of his injuries? Even the tightness of his handcuffs counted as an injury to him. Things got so painful for him that he had to be given a piggyback ride to the cop car, which wasn’t nearly as humiliating under Nikita’s guidance. “Goddamn Nikita…” Oswald thought.

Mere minutes later, the dwarf found himself with fresh bandages staring across a steel table from Mia, whose arms remained folded and face remained stoic throughout this process. He could barely see over the table, but he felt every inch of his interrogator’s mile long stare. He didn’t have the disadvantage of seeing this horrifying look during their first car ride together. Now the dwarf’s lips were trembling as he tried his hardest not to break. He remembered the “making you sweat” line and tried to steel his nerves.

“…Drug possession…and conspiracy to commit terrorism…wow, Oswald. Wow! It finally gave me a reason to look at your file a little more carefully. I had no idea your middle name was Roman. Your initials are…”

“Save it, Detective, I’ve heard that joke a thousand times and I’m fucking sick of it!” The sudden loudness in his own voice sent a wave of hot pain through his body, bandages and antibiotics be damned.

“Okay, I can live with that,” said Mia, still stoic as ever. “But here’s what I can’t live with: locking up a young man like you over the world’s biggest mistakes. It’s my least favorite part of the job, but it must be done if we’re to get any answers regarding your connections.”

The dwarf gave a flabbergasted smile and shrugged. “Connections? What connections? I told you, I’ve got nothing to do with Incelbordination! We’ve been over this shit many times already! Sure, they gave me a chance, then I turned away as soon as I saw how sick these people really are! Write that in your little file!”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Crow, I plan on doing so. I also plan on writing all about how you refuse to cooperate with us because of your dirty little secret. You know the one. The secret you wouldn’t spill to one Nikita Johnson?”

“That bitch!” Oswald said in a low whisper.

“Excuse me?” said Mia with raised eyebrows.

“Look, I told her the same thing I tell everybody else when they see me smoke that shit: I have a prescription for it. I’m depressed and anxious. You can ask my doctor if you don’t fucking believe me!”

“Well, that’s funny,” said Mia as she gently cleared her throat. “Because when we tried to get in touch with your doctor, he appeared to be on vacation. His receptionist didn’t seem too eager to tell me where. I figured it was somewhere in Jamaica, South America, or maybe even Mexico. Maybe.”

“It’s one hundred percent legal, damn it!” Oswald pounded the desk with his fist and completely forgot it was bandaged up for a reason. The cries of pain suggested he was instantly reminded. “Fucking hell!”

“Well, if what you say is true, then you probably feel confident sharing this secret with Nikita. After all, she says you saved her life in that attack on your school. But it begs the question…why her life and not somebody else’s? There were other kids that needed saving just as much as she did. Why are you so attentive to Nikita?”

With high eye-brows, an offended Oswald asked, “Are you suggesting that I only rescued her because she’s hot? Do you think I’m that desperate for a girlfriend? I punched through a glass door just to get to her! My hands look like shit! They feel like shit too! I didn’t do it because I expected anything from her!”

“Of course you didn’t, Oswald. After all, she hardly notices you in that class. Well, she knows who you are now, but did she really know you at all during those first few weeks of spring quarter? She seemed to think the same thing everybody else thought: that you were just there to fade into the background. I bet that just eats you up inside. I bet that chills you to your involuntarily celibate bones.”

“This is fucking bullshit!” shouted Oswald, sending another tremor through his body. “Goddamn it!”

“You really should take the bass out of your voice, my friend. You should save that lung power for when you take another hit of Mary-Jane. I heard that’s a popular drug in prison.”

“No! You can’t lock me up! You can’t fucking do this!”

Leaning her face closer to Oswald’s, Mia angrily whispered, “I can do whatever I want to you, little man! I could ship you off to Gitmo if that’s what you so deserve. A terrorist is a terrorist no matter what color his or her skin is.” The dwarf took short, nervous breaths at that remark. He eased up a bit when Mia leaned back and talked in her normal voice again. “But I’m not going to do that to you. You already know too much about Incelbordination. You’re too valuable to me. Then again, I could always ask one of the chubsters in ski masks if you’re not willing to cooperate.”

Taking deeper breaths now, Oswald shrugged and said, “I don’t even know what I could help you with! If you actually did your homework on these guys, you’d know that they do their shit online! They don’t use the same chat room twice! That’s the whole point! They thrive on anonymity because they don’t want Dickless Tracys like you sticking their noses in their business! You act like you’ve never done this before, Detective!”

“And you act like you’ve never written an English paper before!” That shut up Oswald in a hurry. “You’re already chest deep in shit, which isn’t unusual for someone as tiny as you, but this time you’ve got to take shit seriously. We’ve seized your computer, just like we always do whenever we book someone. My tech guys are working diligently to see if there’s anything on your hard drive that will connect you to Incelbordination. If you’ve got something to tell me, say it now and make my tech guys’ job a lot easier.”

Oswald folded his arms and said, “Get me my lawyer.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of legal counsel in the morning. You’re probably going to need it.”

“What do you mean in the morning?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Mia stood up and knocked on the interrogation room door. “Take the suspect away.”

Oswald thrashed around in his chair as soon as two uniformed police officers entered the room with sadistic frowns on their faces. “No, wait a minute, you can’t do that!”

“I can’t what, Oswald? Get you your obligatory public defender? Are you sure you want to do this right now while you still know everything?” The dwarf said nothing and sunk in his metal chair. “You’re staying in jail for the night, my friend. Normally, you’d be back at your dorm in an hour or so, but you’re hiding something from me and I want to know what the fuck it is. Take him away, boys.”

The two cops grabbed Oswald by the wrists and guided him out of the room while snapping orders like, “Let’s go! Move it!” During his trek to the holding cell, Oswald tried to figure out what it was he was fighting for. He could have just confessed everything and hoped for an easy ending.

But he had dealt with cops before and knew it was all happy horseshit. The cops often took the side of his bullies during those more illegal assaults in high school. Apparently, the feelings of football stars and cheerleader girlfriends were more important than that of an involuntarily celibate midget.

Now his feelings mattered even less in this dark and dank jail cell. Just one puff of Mary Jane was all he was secretly asking for. One cloud of smoke to dry away his forming tears. One taste of sweet cannabis nectar to cleanse his palette and get him ready for the bologna sandwich he was sure to get. It would do wonders for his bodily pain as well as his emotional. Then again, pain was the police’s business and business was booming.

Cold War

VERSE 1

I could do this all day long

Got to show that I am strong

I’ll wait for you to cool down

To minimize the angry sounds

You fought with me and lost

Stop thinking you’re the boss

This cold war is mine to win

Only then can we both grin

CHORUS

A slap to the face

Then I turned away

Escape from this place

For at least a day

Silence rules this domain

As we bottle up this pain

What are we fighting for?

It’s just another cold war

VERSE 2

This could end when you say sorry

We could end our little pity party

My door is open only for the calm

Until then, you’re locked in the hall

Pile bookcases against the door

It’s shelter for the coldest wars

Blast my music to drown you out

Go ahead and try to shout me down

CHORUS

A slap to the face

Then I turned away

Escape from this place

For at least a day

Silence rules this domain

As we bottle up this pain

What are we fighting for?

It’s just another cold war

BRIDGE

Stupid reasons, stupid words

Yet we never seem to learn

Stupid outcome, stupid shame

As we play the blame game

Was it worth it in the end?

Losing yet another friend?

Check your ego at my door

Put an end to this cold war

VERSE 3

Silence is an introvert’s favorite thing

Especially when the heartache stings

I’m still waiting, but I’ll never crack

You’ll be the first to stab me in the back

CHORUS

A slap to the face

Then I turned away

Escape from this place

For at least a day

Silence rules this domain

As we bottle up this pain

What are we fighting for?

It’s just another cold war

"Sick Little Monkeys" by Thad Komorowski

BOOK TITLE: Sick Little Monkeys: The Unauthorized Ren & Stimpy Story

AUTHOR: Thad Komorowski

YEAR: 2017

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Animation Biography

GRADE: Fail

Sick Little Monkeys details the career of Ren & Stimpy’s eccentric and rebellious creator John Kricfalusi, who has been described by many as either an animation genius or a creative control freak. Mr. K always insisted on doing things his way whether his bosses agreed with him or not. The byproduct of his madness was cartoons that embraced toilet humor, bodily horror, and an uncaring attitude towards the youths they were marketed to. John K made many enemies during his time creating cartoons, but it begs the question of whether or not it was all worth it given the cult following Ren & Stimpy had and still has today.

I swore I would finish this book all the way through, but the repetitive and dull writing style makes it impossible to do so. Many of the same talking points were shoved down my throat over and over again whether it was John K’s rebelliousness, his inability to meet deadlines, his cartoons’ disgustingness, and worst of all, how “awful” and “disastrous” competing cartoons were. About the last item on that list, it would appear as if the author was taking sides with John K, but there were also times when he criticized the animator with as much venom as he did the competitors. If this book has a message, it was lost a long time ago the minute the writing style bored me to tears.

Perhaps the writing style could have been improved with some showing instead of telling. Instead of telling me how “bad” other cartoons are, show me what specifically made them that way. But of course, the author couldn’t do that without alienating the laymen of the animation world. Insider terms are used a lot in this book, which would have been fine if the book was marketed to professional animators as opposed to merely fans of Ren & Stimpy. I went into this read wanting to learn about the cartoon that made my childhood a happy time of my life. Instead all I got was technical drivel combined with a desert-dry writing style.

The closest the author ever got to showing instead of telling was pictures scattered here and there of John K’s sketches and storyboards. While pictures are always more effective at communicating than words, if that was all I wanted, I would have watched a movie. I wanted to read a book and use my imagination, an imagination guided by an author who’s supposed to be as entertaining as he is informative. I would have even settled for a graphic novel if that’s what the author really wanted. At least with a graphic novel, it wouldn’t feel like my eyes were being dragged across sandpaper. Now there’s a visual worthy of a Ren & Stimpy episode!

This was not a fun book to read and I can’t recommend it to my friends. I tried. I really tried. I wanted to like it and become a more educated person because of the reading experience. But no matter what, it just wouldn’t happen. I’d already known John K was a little off-color and this book does a good job of illustrating his depravity, but ultimately it’s not enough to keep my interest. I’m sorry, Mr. Komorowski, but this book gets a failing grade.

Incelbordination, Chapter 10

Oswald floated through the sunlit air as a familiar feminine voice whispered to him. “Come closer, my love. Come closer.” The little guy half-closed his eyes in anticipation of the seduction. The closer he floated towards this voice, the brighter the sunlight became. Whoever was sending these vibes had the radiance of an angel. And then Oswald could see a pair of plump red lips calling for him and making kissing noises to further tempt him. He puckered his own marijuana-scented lips and prepared for the love-making session he desperately desired.

And then the little guy opened his eyes and saw those red lips were hiding a serpentine tongue and elongated fangs dripping with poison. Oswald’s heart thumped in his chest and his eyes widened upon learning this face belonged to Antero Magnus, whose cyan eyes rolled so far back in his head that redness became horrifyingly apparent. “Give me a kiss, lover boy!” slithered Antero before taking a massive bite out of his former protégé’s skull. Oswald’s brains oozed out of the bite marks while his skull cracked in half, rendering him lifeless in an instant.

“Oswald, wake up!” shouted a more genuine female voice and the dwarf snapped awake while inhaling a raspy breath. Sitting up in his bed and soaked to the bone with sweat, he noticed he was back in his dorm room just like Nikita Johnson promised. Low and behold, there she was standing over his exhausted body with wetness in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said. “You looked like you were having a nightmare.”

The little person wiped the blurriness out of his eyes and said, “I did have a nightmare. A bunch of virgins in masks came and beat the shit out of everyone at school. Wait a minute. That was just a nightmare, right?”

“I’m afraid not, Oswald. Our college really was attacked. It’s all over the media. I was watching GNN on my phone.” The dwarf tried to crawl out of bed, but Nikita placed a hand in front of him to keep him from doing so. “Don’t, Oswald. You’re hurt. Just lay there for a few more minutes.”

Oswald face-palmed and whispered, “Goddamn you, Antero.”

“What did you just say?”

“Um…I, uh…oh, no…”

Nikita folded her arms and asked, “How do you know who Antero Magnus is?”

“How do YOU know him?”

Nikita sighed and sat down on the bed next to her rescuer’s feet. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger before finally satisfying Oswald’s curiosity. “He’s in one of my classes. I’m double majoring in English and political science and apparently he’s majoring in political science too. Every single time he’d share one of his papers with the class…he…” She wiped a tear from her eye. “He just sounded so entitled. He felt like the world owed him sex. He was incredibly sexist on so many levels. I don’t think he’d even be happy if he found a relationship. He’d just continue the cycle of hatred. And the worst part about this is….my professor is too scared to challenge him because he thinks Antero will snap.”

“That definitely sounds like something he’d do,” said Oswald absentmindedly before backpedaling with a series of “um’s” and “uh’s”.

“Are you hiding something from me? How do you know Antero? Please be honest.” No answer. Just a nervous stare from the little guy. “Oswald, if you know something about Antero, you need to tell me. You heard those masked guys yelling things like Love Is Black and muttering shit about Chads and Stacys. If Antero really is behind all of that, you need to tell the police. That’s information they need.” Still no answer. “Oswald, what’s going on?!”

The dwarf sighed and plopped his head back on the pillow. “Antero tried to get me to join his group. He calls it Incelbordination or some shit like that.”

“You didn’t actually join them, did you?” asked Nikita with a shaky voice. “Oswald, if I find out you’re mixed up in this sexist crap, I’m going to…”

“I turned them down!” A long beat of uncomfortable silence hung between them. “I saw what those people are capable of. I’ve been to one of their chat rooms. The shit they talked about…it was disgusting. They joked about murdering and raping women. Although, it turned out not to be much of a joke, did it.”

“You need to go to the police and tell them everything you know.”

“…I’m sorry, Nikita, I can’t.”

“Why not?” Another beat of silence built a wall between them until Nikita’s eyes widened at something that appeared to be in Oswald’s coat, which he still wore in bed. She reached inside despite the dwarf swatting at her hands and pulled out several ready rolls. “Oh my god…this is why? You’re afraid the police are going to find these?”

Holding up his hands defensively, Oswald explained, “Look, I have a prescription for those, okay? I’ve got a severe case of depression and pot is the only thing that’s working.”

“Are you sure it’s working?” asked Nikita rhetorically. “Because I’ve heard your love stories in Valerie’s class. I’ve heard your poetry. Whatever’s wrong with you, these rolls aren’t doing the trick.”

“Sometimes they take a while to kick in!” snapped Oswald. “Then again, sometimes there isn’t a cure for what’s going on in real life!”

“If you’re not going to report Antero to the police, then I will. I’ll even put in a good word for you with the cops!”

“You can’t do that, Nikita! You can’t force your straightedge crap on the whole fucking world! It doesn’t work like that! I need that marijuana just to get me through the day unscathed! It’s not my fault everybody else wants to be a prick and fuck up my therapy!”

Nikita’s face transformed from desperate tears to passionate anger at the “straightedge crap” talking point. “Just so you know, I do have a dog in this fight when it comes to drugs and alcohol. My dad smoked all the weed he could find and on top of that drank every bottle of booze within a ten mile fucking radius. He did all of this when I was just a little girl. He’d come home from work smelling like he’d just bathed in raw sewage. And then late at night he went for a drive…” She wiped a way another tear and sniffled. “He never came home. Crashed into the river and drowned. I blame him for everything, but I blame the drugs he took even more.”

Oswald sighed and face-palmed once again. “I’m sorry for your loss, Nikita. Trust me, I know how that feels.”

“Then why are you smoking this shit to begin with?!” screamed Nikita, causing her target to pull the covers halfway over his face. “If you know how it feels, then why are you repeating this garbage?! This stuff isn’t curing you. It’s making you into a monster. You want proof? You’re worried that the cops are going to find this on you when you throw Antero under the bus. Well…I don’t have to worry about that because I’m not stupid enough to repeat the same mistakes over and over again.”

“Nikita…please give those back to me.”

“Not a chance, Oswald. I’m not going to let you fuck over this entire school after what they went through!”

“Why, you little!” grunted the dwarf as he attempted to roll out of bed and onto his feet. Because of his injuries, all he could do was plop on his ass and pull a muscle in his lower back. He screamed and coughed while pounding the floor with his fist, ignoring the fact that there used to be glass in his knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Oswald…but you did this to yourself!” said Nikita before turning around and marching away.

“No, wait! Don’t go! You can’t turn me in for this! They’ll put me in prison forever! I don’t’ deserve that shit!” The sound of Nikita slamming the front door behind her prompted Oswald to scream even more curse words while pounding the floor with both fists this time as well as his heels. He didn’t get much offense into the floor due to his agonized lower back, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Just like Nikita before him, Oswald found an excuse to shed tears, but his own sobbing was loud and obnoxious enough to awaken his couch potato roommate, who screamed, “Hey! Shut up in there!” Except Oswald didn’t shut up. He cursed and pounded the ground some more until he was ready for another trip to the subconscious theater.

“Don’t do this to me, Nikita,” he whispered as he was falling asleep again. “Please…don’t…do…this…”

Halestorm X In This Moment Concert

***HALESTORM X IN THIS MOMENT CONCERT***

It’s true, folks: I’ve been going to a lot of concerts this year alone. In chronological order, I’ve seen Pop Evil, Starset, Papa Roach, Soulfly, Breaking Benjamin, and Seether as headliners. This coming Friday, I’m going to see Halestorm and In This Moment as co-headliners in Seattle with New Years Day as their opener. It’ll be my first time seeing all three of these bands, so I’m happy for the new experience. I’ve been a fan of In This Moment since 2013 when their lead singer Maria Brink did a duet with Five Finger Death Punch (the song was called “Anywhere But Here”). I’ve been a fan of Halestorm ever since their lead singer Lzzy Hale did a duet with Device called “Close My Eyes Forever”. My CD collection of both bands is complete and I’m ready to see them on Friday. I’ve never heard New Years Day’s music before, so I hope they’re good!

If you’re wondering why I’m going to so many concerts lately, it’s because these shows are opportunities to get out of the house and engage the public. Even hardcore introverts need to socialize every now and then, though I don’t actively seek people in the audience to talk to. I don’t have a car of my own and the only places within walking distance worth going to are Fred Meyer, Quizno’s, Hi-Way Market, and Charlie’s Café. Not only are cars expensive to maintain and buy, but I don’t trust myself behind the wheel because I’m always thinking about having a schizophrenic attack in the middle of traffic. Schizophrenia thrives on stress and there’s nothing more stressful than being stuck in traffic. We don’t need a collision and we don’t need dead bodies. Other people in my family are more than happy to drive me to my respective venues, this Friday’s show being at the WaMu Theater near Century Link Field.

I’m Garrison Kelly and here’s hoping for a fun evening! Even when you feel like…no, wait, Three Days Grace isn’t going to be there. Oh well!

***SAVAGE BEATINGS***

Though I’m not technically allowed to publish Savage Beatings on my social media accounts, I will say that I’ve rewritten the first part out of five to accommodate for Marie Krepps’ suggested changes to Beautiful Monster. This time around, Windham’s emotions will be consistent, he won’t act like an emo teenager, and the world building in this fantasy setting will be as clear as day. I know Patrick in particular loved reading about psychotic Windham bloodying his foes, but in the interest of having a more realistic product, I can’t have Windham’s emotions bounce all over the place like a character from The Room. I also can’t have him eat psychedelic mushrooms and have him transform into Broken Matt Hardy meets Pink Floyd the Wall. My ears are open for the lovely Marie Krepps, because she knows best. Wish me luck!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“She’s only sixteen. She had the dreams of a girl. She thought she’d be in love. She’d thought she’d have the white picket fence. Now she stands on the corner. She sold herself to the streets. When the world gave up on her, she gave up on herself. She said, “Can anybody hear me?” She said, “Does anybody care?” The monster pulls up slowly. He asks her how much she is.”

-In This Moment singing “Out of Hell”-

All Men Must Die

VERSE 1

You’re touching and feeling

He’s sexually appealing

All of his no’s are final

Still he feels suicidal

CHORUS

In your heart

All men must

D-D-D-D-Die!

D-D-D-D-Die!

D-D-D-D-Die!

D-D-D-D-Die!

You don’t care!

Don’t you dare!

VERSE 2

Tell him to man up

As you grab nuts

He must like it

He doesn’t fight it

CHORUS

In your heart

All men must

D-D-D-D-Die!

D-D-D-D-Die!

D-D-D-D-Die!

D-D-D-D-Die!

You don’t care!

Don’t you dare!

BRIDGE

Police report

Been here before

Choose to ignore

Ass out the door

Fall on the floor

Get ready for more

See what’s in store

For the man whore

VERSE 3

Back the fuck up

You media suck up

Stick your microphone

Where the sun never shone

He wants revenge

He wants to defend

He wants your head

He wants you dead

CHORUS

In your heart

All men must

D-D-D-D-Die!

D-D-D-D-Die!

D-D-D-D-Die!

D-D-D-D-Die!

You don’t care!

Don’t you dare!

Let's Have a Threesome

***LET’S HAVE A THREESOME***

No, I’m not talking about that kind of threesome, you perv! I’m talking about three different creative projects that are currently going on in my life. The month of August will be a busy one and quite frankly I wouldn’t have it any other way. Not only do I have a Halestorm X In This Moment concert coming up on the 17^th, but the very next day I get to see my niece Reina perform in a play like she does every summer at drama camp. On a side note, “drama camp” sounds like a place where a bunch of sad saps get together to whine about life. Oh wait, it’s not that kind of drama? Oops! Reina has her creative project for August and I’ve got mine. Let’s take a look at these three things, shall we?

***SAVAGE BEATINGS***

Every few months, Hollow Hills publishing (Marie Krepps’s business) puts out a themed anthology and this upcoming installment, called Still Standing, will focus on bullying. Proceeds from the sales of this book will go to various anti-bullying charities, though I haven’t found out which ones yet. I wanted to be a part of this project, but I didn’t have any short stories in my archives that met the six thousand word minimum. And that was when Marie gave me a brilliant idea that I will always thank her for: write a prequel to Beautiful Monster that details Windham Xavier’s first few days of training at Paladin Cross. Beautiful Monster already has the themes of bullying, so this prequel that I’ve dubbed Savage Beatings (named after Kody and Christian Savage) will touch on those same aspects. I’ve already written part one of this five piece story and I have until the end of August to complete it. Piece of cake! I’d love to share it with you guys, but as long as I’m published with Hollow Hills, I can’t publish it anywhere else and that includes social media. It makes sense from a business standpoint, so I’m not going to complain about it at all. Otherwise, I’ll have to be sent kicking and screaming to “drama camp”. Wait a minute! That’s not what it’s about! Hehe!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

Of course, Marie wouldn’t have given me the idea for Savage Beatings if I didn’t recruit her to beta-read Beautiful Monster. You know you’re a writer when the idea of receiving mountains of feedback is both exciting and terrifying at the same time. It’s exciting because Marie’s advice will no doubt bring Beautiful Monster to brand new heights. It’s terrifying because judging from her notes so far, I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. But hey, hard work isn’t so bad, especially when I know it’s coming. Besides, Marie Krepps is an excellent beta-reader. Without her, none of my six published books would be possible. She’s thoughtful, funny as hell, and she can be these things without being judgmental towards the author. I think the latter of those three things is the most important, especially when I’ve written a novel about sensitive topics such as male rape and PTSD. Her fully detailed notes will be available to me by the 12^th of this month. One thing I already know? Tarja Rikkinen is in serious need of character rehab. She’s too manipulative to be likeable. Hell, in the fifth chapter, she openly admits to using seduction as a trust-building tactic! Holy shit!

***INCELBORDINATION***

As I’ve said before, I’m forbidden from posting Savage Beatings online. Depending on whether or not Marie wants to publish Beautiful Monster through Hollow Hills, I’ll probably have to delete the chapters from my social media accounts. But these things cannot be said about Incelbordination, which I will still work on despite the other two projects looming over me. I’m still a member of the WSS on Good Reads and I always enjoy entering their friendly short story contests. Incelbordination will be the ongoing project that gets uploaded to social media, including Good Reads. Would you like to know what chapter ten will be about? Tough shit! No spoilers for you! Hahahahahahaha!

***CONCLUSION***

One night while I was suffering from heat exhaustion, I made a list of mantras in my falling-apart Lego journal. One of them is “Kick August’s Ass”. No, I don’t personally know anybody named August or Gus, I’m talking about the month. It’s going to be a busy month and come hell or high water I’ll kick the shit out of August and walk into September smelling like roses. Waiting for me on the other side is my Dad’s birthday and the very next day after that an Evanescence X Lindsay Stirling concert at the White River Amphitheater. This would be the part of the blog where Marie tells me that she’s jealous of my concerts before calling me an affectionate insult. Hehe! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain! Hey, those lyrics work!

***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

SMOKEY: Raaaaawr! Raaaaaaaawr!

GARRISON: Shut up, Smokey, I’m trying to watch a video!

JAMES: But Garrison, she’s singing for you.

GARRISON: No, she’s not. She’s making loud noises.

JAMES: Is that what your favorite bands do? Smokey’s a better singer than they are.

GARRISON: That’s not true, James! It’s good music! You’re being judgmental!

JAMES: No, I’m not. I’m being honest.

GARRISON: Goddamn it, James!

Are You Shipping Me?

***ARE YOU SHIPPING ME?***

In honor of my supportive Deviant Art friend Patrick Doran a.k.a. The Lone Wolf, I’m bringing back a meme/game that I did for Occupy Wrestling where I randomly chose two characters from a long list and put them together as a couple. This time I’m using characters from my most recent first draft novels, Silent Warrior, Beautiful Monster, and Incelbordination. There are twenty-seven names on this list and I plan on burning through ten of them for the sake of this game (that means I’ll be shipping five different potential couples). These selections will be completely random and will not pay any mind to gender or sexual orientation. Are you ready to play America’s game? No, it’s not Wheel of Fortune, so step aside, Pat Sajak! This new game is called…Are You Shipping Me? Are you ready to play? Let’s get started! Here’s the list of characters I’ve compiled:

1. Adrienne Simpson, teenaged MPDG
2. Alan Young, high school bully
3. Aloysius Striker, puppet teacher
4. Antero Magnus, involuntary celibate
5. Beth George, overbearing mother
6. Carter George, dead father
7. Christian Savage, claw-wielding mercenary
8. Craig Dunham, jock bully
9. Julie Simpson, Adrienne’s mother
10. Kody Savage, chicken shit mercenary
11. Linda Williams, high school principal
12. Mia Barry, police detective
13. Michelle Xavier, elf queen
14. Misty Keith, student with Down’s Syndrome
15. Nikita Johnson, English student
16. Orpheus Rinehart, fat mercenary boss
17. Oswald Crow, lonely dwarf
18. Paul Corbin, surrogate history teacher
19. Scott George, traumatized student
20. Shelly Atwood, vampire rapist
21. Simone Archer, trauma therapist
22. Tarja Rikkinen, staff-wielding mercenary
23. Tom Simpson, authoritarian teacher
24. Torger Manson, vampire enforcer
25. Valerie Sand, English teacher
26. Wacey Judge, gym bully
27. Windham Xavier, whip-wielding elf mercenary

Spin the wheel or buy a vowel! Damn it, this still isn’t Wheel of Fortune! Piss off, Sajak!

***FIRST COUPLE: SHELLY X ANTERO***

I swear this couple pairing was only a coincidence, but Patrick and I joked all the time about how these two deserve each other. With Shelly Atwood, you’ve got a woman who destroys men’s self-esteem by forcing them into sex slavery. With Antero Magnus, you’ve got a guy with no self-esteem to begin with because he can’t get laid. The kicker? Both of these train wrecks are the villains of their respective stories, so try not to feel bad for either of them. In fact, be sure to wish them well as they tie the knot and spread misery and hatred across the land together!

***SECOND COUPLE: ALOYSIUS X BETH***

Considering both of these women are from Silent Warrior and they both play a pivotal role in Scott George’s life, I can definitely see them being a couple. Never mind the fact that Aloysius appears as a nightmarish puppet in Scott’s dreams. Hell, she can be one of those inflatable sex puppets if Beth so desired. Both women have a nasty habit of making Scott’s life miserable, whether in the dream world or in real life. They’re both bossy as hell, they both demand conformity and obedience, and if you read far enough into the novel, you’ll understand Aloysius’s most significant connection to Scott’s life. With Carter George dead as a doornail, Beth is ripe for the picking, so come on down, Aloysius! You’re the next contestant on The Price Is Right! Goddamn it, not you too, Drew Carey!

***THIRD COUPLE: TOM X PAUL (TAUL)***

Okay, so I tried not to bring spoilers into this, but in order for the context to make sense, I’m afraid I’m going to have to. So if you haven’t read far enough into Silent Warrior yet and you don’t want to be spoiled, skip past this one. But oh my god, you talk about cats and dogs, you’ve got Tom Simpson and Paul Corbin. Tom is known throughout the story as an autocratic teacher who demands conformity and even came up with his own quote for it: “Democracy is dead!” Paul Corbin replaces him and has a much more positive impact on his students. You think if Tom and Paul became a couple that there wouldn’t be any professional jealousy? Oh, goddamn, think of all the arguments they’d have!

***FOURTH COUPLE: WINDHAM X SCOTT (WINDHOTT)***

Unlike Tom and Paul before them, this couple could actually relate to each other on a personal level and the fighting would be kept to a minimum. They’re both mentally scarred from their experiences. They both fight for their individuality in a world that demands obedience. They both have the power to change the world, though Windham uses his whip for that and Scott uses his words. They’re both passionate when it comes to their relationships. And for all of you out there who are concerned about age differences, don’t worry, Scott is eighteen and one hundred percent legal. In fact, his age becomes a huge factor in how Silent Warrior plays out. But yes, Windham and Scott would make a cute couple despite the fact that Scott dresses like a hobo and Windham is this gorgeous man stud in shining armor.

***FINAL COUPLE: CARTER X TORGER (TORTER)***

For the sake of argument, Carter George, who started Silent Warrior as a dead body, will remain a corpse during his shipping with Torger Manson. And why not? It’s usually Torger’s stepsister Shelly who gets to “have all the fun” (and I’m saying that with a sour stomach). Torger needs love too (again, I say that with a bad taste in my mouth). Why should Shelly get to choose the slaves all the time (again, ugh!)? The closest thing to fun Torger will ever have is if his victims are dead. Given that he’s high on psychedelic mushrooms all the time, that’d be the only way he’d agree to this necromantic relationship. And that’s assuming Torger has standards to begin with, which is questionable at times during Beautiful Monster.

***CONCLUSION***

Our Final Jeopardy category is…goddamn it, Alex Trebek, get out of here! This isn’t your show! I’m Garrison Kelly and I’ll see you next time! Are You Shipping Me is a production of Merv Griffin Enterprises and is distributed by King World…no, it isn’t!

***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

REINA: How was the Seether concert?

GARRISON: Fine.

REINA: Did you meet any cute girls?

GARRISON: A short girl locked arms with me during “Fine Again”, but I didn’t do anything in return.

REINA: This seems to be a recurring theme when you go to concerts. First there was that girl at the Slipknot concert who kissed your hand and now this.

GARRISON: There was also the time at the Pop Evil concert when a girl tried to dance with me, but I walked away from her when she elbowed another concertgoer.

REINA: Yeah, that was the right choice.

GARRISON: I have no idea why women are trying to seduce me at concerts.

REINA: Maybe a shape-shifter is after you. Maybe you’re the shape-shifter.

GARRISON: I’m not a shape-shifter.

REINA: That’s exactly what a shape-shifter would say if he was denying it.

GARRISON: Damn it, Reina, you say that with everything I deny being!

Incelbordination, Chapter 9

When the Monday morning sunshine burst through his window, Oswald Crow contemplated taking the day off. He could tell Valerie Sand that he had come down with food poisoning or something. Then again, if he pulled that sneaky trick, the C- would become a D+ in no time at all. He wasn’t sick, but he’d have to take his medicine anyways. He pounded his fists into the pillow as he dragged himself out of bed to get ready for class. Why did Monday mornings have to exist in the first place, especially when Sunday mornings were days when Incelbordination “went to war”. The thought of their hate speech made Oswald feel as though he had worms crawling in his stomach.

What would be on his MP3 player today? Something to relax him? Something to hype him up? A band to share his sadness with? Nah, he didn’t feel like music today. He just put on his trench coat and fucked off to English class. With Incelbordination clouding every corner of his mind, he didn’t feel like he could concentrate on music. If that was the case, what made him think he could concentrate on schoolwork? Maybe he should have taken the day off and smoked a shit ton of weed. Eh, maybe not.

Oswald’s posture drooped over as he headed to class, barely paying attention to the sets of shoes around him. Some of the “Stacys” had worn sandals and shorts on this fine spring day, but he didn’t give a damn anymore, not after Valerie gave him shit about it this past Friday. Oh crap, he actually had to see her and had very little time to get there. He kept telling himself to turn around and take a personal day, but his zombie body pushed him forward nonetheless.

The only thing bombastic enough to awaken him was the sound of an explosion followed by van engines and young men screaming incoherent slogans about not getting laid. Oswald had just unknowingly stumbled upon a terrorist attack and watched in horror as masked men went around beating the shit out of other students. Some of them whipped “Stacys” with belts. Some of them punched “Chads” with brass knuckles. Those who were driving the vans mowed down both “Chads” and “Stacys” like human bowling pins, though the terrorists would clearly dispute the human part of that analogy.

“Oh no…Oh my fucking lord…” Oswald said to himself as he knelt down and held his head in his hands. He believed he was powerless to stop this madness even with his superior boxing skills. So many masked men…so many weapons…so many vans…and here was this dwarf just waiting to get his ass kicked or even worse. He believed wholeheartedly that he brought this upon himself. He should have told Detective Barry about this when he had the chance.

“Help!” shouted a terrified feminine voice muffled by a glass door. Oswald collected himself and noticed his one true crush Nikita Johnson banging on the glass door of his English class begging for a rescue. “Someone help me! Please!” she shouted over and over again.

One more dead Stacy doesn’t matter, an intrusive inner voice told Oswald. No. It does matter. It has to matter. This madness had to stop. Cracking his knuckles and both sides of his neck, Oswald bolted towards the glass door and shouted, “Nikita, hang on!” He rolled up his trench coat sleeves and started punching the shit out of the glass door. This was no doubt tough material that left his knuckles bleeding and his hands calloused. But one crack in the glass turned into two. Two turned into four. Just a few more pain wracking punches that sent shockwaves through his numbed out arm. And then the glass door shattered and Nikita was free.

Before she could taste freedom, a heavyset man wearing a black mask hand-gagged her  and pulled her backwards kicking and screaming. “Get your fucking mitts off of her, you sick prick!” shouted Oswald before punching the terrorist in the knee and buckling him. The dwarf ignored the pain now shooting up to his shoulders as he threw a few more heavy rights and lefts until the terrorist’s knee was completely blown out. Letting go of Nikita, the fat man collapsed to the ground crying like a bitch while Oswald’s hands bled some more.

Nikita leaned down and quickly examined the dwarf’s knuckles. She said, “Come on, let’s get you out of here! My car’s in the parking lot. Let’s go!” She gave Oswald a piggy-back ride and bolted out of the classroom, zig-zagging between various masked men pummeling their prey. Even in Birkenstocks, Nikita ran with the coordination of an athlete. Oswald had little time to admire her physicality as his knuckles bled all over her blue T-shirt. There were probably pieces of glass stuck in them.

Another heavyweight terrorist grabbed Nikita by her arm as she trashed and yelled, “Get your hands off of me, you pervert!” Not wanting to further injure his hands, Oswald leapt onto the jerk and head-butted him until blood soaked the man’s mask. The world around the dwarf seemed to spin like an amusement park ride after so many head strikes. Nikita had to pull him off the thug and piggy-back him some more.

The duo finally made it to Nikita’s car, though the angry voices behind them grew even more vicious the more she fumbled with her keys. She eventually found the right one, but was so jittery that she had trouble fitting it in the door. Another thug had jumped on top of the car wielding a crowbar and that was enough to knock both Nikita and Oswald backwards in fright. The thug chanted over and over again, “Love is black!” while raising his weapon in the air.

“Don’t hurt us! Leave us alone, you coward!” begged Nikita as she curled into the fetal position. The thug jumped down from the roof and raised his weapon like he was going to strike any second. Oswald was still fading in and out of clarity, but even with minimal equilibrium, he kicked the thug in the ankle and had him hopping up and down. After he dropped the crowbar, Oswald grabbed his other ankle and with one hard tug tripped him to the ground, making sure he hit his head on the roof.

Once the thug was KO’ed, Oswald struggled so much to help Nikita to her feet that he nearly blacked out. She hurried and fit the key in the door successfully this time before situating the dwarf in the passenger seat. He was so out of it that he didn’t bother to fasten his seatbelt. Nikita wasted no time in getting in the driver’s seat and getting the engine going, peeling out of there like a bat out of hell. She had to run over another thug in order to obtain a clear path to freedom, but she did and kept going.

“I need to take you to a hospital, you’re hurt!” sobbed Nikita.

“No! The hospital’s going to be backed up. Take me back to my dorm room. I’ve got medical shit we can use there. I just hope the cops can come in time to stop this BS.”

Oswald started to drift into darkness, but Nikita kept shaking his shoulder and saying, “Stay with me, little guy! This isn’t over yet! I’ll get you back to your dorm in no time at all!”

The dwarf’s speech began to slur as he talked nonsense for the rest of the ride to the dorm. “That C- is going to kill humanity…she’s going to steal the world’s pot and…”

“Oswald, what the hell are you talking about?!” No response. “Oswald, please wake up!” Still no response. “Oswald! No!” Nikita shook him harder and harder, but he still wouldn’t snap out of his concussion wonderland, if a concussion was what he indeed had. A psychiatrist might lean towards PTSD, a disease which got thrown around a lot on campus, but was completely justified this time around. What the dwarf would give for some pot right at that moment. Beautiful, mind-numbing, pain-dulling pot that made mundane clouds look like vanilla ice cream.

Nah, he couldn’t very well pull a ready roll out in this strange woman’s car. Come to think of it, even in his head-butt induced darkness, he seemed to remember her sharing an English assignment with the class about her straightedge beliefs. Maybe inviting her back to the dorm was a bad idea since that was where all of the magic medicine was kept. Then again, Oswald had nowhere else to go to, both to escape Incelbordination and to find permanence in life.

At this moment, Nikita Johnson was the closest thing to a godsend he had. Even though he was perfectly capable of sprinting long distances, she gave him a piggyback ride to safety after seeing his hands bleeding. Bloody hands weren’t unusual for a boxer at Oswald’s level, but never had it warranted a piggyback ride. Maybe the massive blood loss was making his mind go berserk. Then again, maybe it was the general loveliness of Nikita even though she was in hysterics. Before he finally drifted into the subconscious theater, Oswald had a tiny smile on his face knowing the two of them would finally be alone together.

Incelbordination, Chapter 8

“Every Sunday, when America goes to church, Incelbordination goes to war!” Oswald was pretty sure Antero stole that line from an NFL videogame commercial, but it was effective word porn nonetheless. Oswald dragged his ass out of bed and signed onto the Incelbordination chat room where that church slogan came from. Upon receiving the URL to that chat room, Antero told him that they never had physical meeting places because of Mia Barry’s investigation against him. They also didn’t use the same URL every time, also for the same purpose. The clandestine nature of these Sunday meetings made Oswald feel like a rebel, like he actually could bring a shock to the system.

When he signed in under the username LittleFury21, he whistled in awe of how many people were part of this chat room. So many young men on campus like him who felt betrayed by their peers. So much potential crushed by the world around them. So many dreams turned into permanent nightmares. This was definitely Oswald’s true territory, not a classroom of judgmental eyes or a home he couldn’t go to anymore.

BLACK_PILL_KING (Antero’s Username): Good morning, everyone! Welcome to our weekly Incelbordination meeting. You all know who I am by now. But I’m sure none of you know who LittleFury21 is. He’s our newest acquisition and quite possibly our saving grace in this wretched life. Everyone say hello!

Sure enough, the entire chat room did so and that alone made Oswald feel welcome, unlike any other school environment he was in.

BLACK_PILL_KING: The floor is yours, little guy. Introduce yourself to our Supreme Gentlemen!

LITTLEFURY21: Hello, everyone. I was told not to use real names prior to this meeting, so I won’t give away mine. But as many of you guessed by now, Little Fury isn’t just some catchy title. I really am three feet tall and south of a hundred pounds. Men and women alike go out of their way to avoid me and those who do pay attention only want to disparage me before getting the chance to know who I am.

RAGE_GOD31: Ever thought about punching them in the dick?

LITTLEFURY21: All the time, Rage God. I actually did have to learn how to box when I was young. If I didn’t throw those heavy punches, I’d probably be deader than a doornail right now. Hell, I’m probably going to be dead in a few years anyways. Dying of a lonely heart isn’t at all unheard of.

DEATH_MASTER2000: You know, you can do something about this. Ever thought about going out in a blaze of glory? That’s probably the only way any of us will ever be noticed. Look at what happened to Eliot Rodger.

LITTLEFURY21: I think about it more often than you think, Death Master. The problem is…I just don’t have it in me to go through with it.

MCDONALDS_PIMP69: If you ever need coaxing along, just remember that there are no innocent victims. The whole world is guilty for pushing you aside. If nobody else will be the judge, jury, and executioner, then you take those roles yourself. Don’t puss out on us now!

LITTLEFURY21: That’s all well and good, but I don’t exactly have a warehouse full of bazookas and machetes readily available. My legs are also too short to operate the pedals on a German tank. LOL!

BLACK_PILL_KING: Heavy artillery is overrated, Little Fury. It’s expensive, it’s hard to smuggle, and it’s more obvious than the hard-on those tank cannons look like. If you need the tools to get the job done and can’t rely on your boxing skills alone…we can help you with that!

LITTLEFURY21: Wait a minute…you guys actually have…guns?!

BLACK_PILL_KING: Not just guns, my friend. Chainsaws, knives, baseball bats covered in razor wire, and even a few vans to turn Chads and Stacys into pretty little pancakes. Then after we flatten them, we can put our special whipped cream all over them while they bleed out strawberries. It’ll be like having breakfast at IHOP.

The constant barrage of LOL’s and LMAO’s from the other incels sent chills up Oswald’s spine and made his fingers go numb. Thank god there was a waste bucket next to his computer desk in case he needed something to barf into. The thought of speaking up put nervous energy in his stomach, but he knew he had to do it.

LITTLEFURY21: Guys, this shit isn’t funny.

BIG_DADDY_G: Are you kidding me? This is fucking hilarious! Besides, if your legs were long enough to drive a van, you’d want to splatter everything in sight too!

BLACK_PILL_KING: I agree 100%. Seriously, why the change of heart?

LITTLEFURY21: Look, I can appreciate the fact that you guys hate the world and want to watch it burn and all, but this is ridiculous. You’re making jokes about murdering people and I’m actually afraid you guys might do it someday.

SUPER_FREAK72: Dude, take your skirt off and be a man for once. You know the only chance you’d get laid is if you killed the chick yourself. Even then, I think it’s a long shot since your legs aren’t the only short thing about you.

LITTLEFURY21: How about instead of hiding behind a computer screen, you say that shit to my face? Yeah, and I’M the one walking around in a skirt.

SUPER_FREAK72: If you and I were to fight, I’d win every single time. Now fall in line before I make you eat your meals through a straw!

BLACK_PILL_KING: Okay, children, that’s enough. We’re supposed to be unified by this shit, not tearing each other apart. We’ve got big plans and I will not have them scrapped by a bunch of infighting!

LITTLEFURY21: What do you mean “big plans”? You’re not actually talking about…you know…

BLACK_PILL_KING: I don’t know, maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Maybe I’ll have to rethink my whole strategy if you’re not fully committed to Incelbordination. I understand you’re new to this group, but everybody has to pay their dues.

LITTLEFURY21: And by “paying my dues”, you mean going out and committing murder and necrophilia. If that’s the case, then your Uncle Tuomas won’t have to worry about not getting laid anymore.

The swear words, epithets, and death threats from the other members flooded the chat room to where the system almost crashed. Antero tried to restore order, but the messages of hate came so frequently that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Oswald did what most immature computer users did and argued back against Incelbordination’s finest. The slurs came more frequently and nearly send him spiraling into insanity. The dwarf even held his head and rocked back and forth before leaving the chat room and taking deep breaths.

Oswald had enough venom for the world to fill two chemical factories and a biological weapons carrier. Yet even he was disgusted by what he saw in that chat room. His heart raced, his stomach ached, and his mind swirled with words like “faggot”, “pussy”, and “prison bitch”. Images of him being stabbed, shot, stomped, or even raped in the asshole made him wish he had forgotten Incelbordination even existed. No woman was worth this much poison. In fact, he would even welcome hugs from Valerie Sand, Nikita Johnson, and Mia Barry of they were offered.

Tomorrow was Monday, which meant another round of criticism from his English teacher. Oswald held his pain-wracked stomach at the thought of having to choose between being criticized by Valerie and being cyber-bullied by a bunch of virgin terrorists. It was the classic case of Death or  Unga-Bunga all over again. If he was going to be laughed at for the thousandth time, he might as well have put his best foot forward.

“Okay, Oswald, you can do this. Just breathe…just concentrate…” He pulled the C- covered paper out of his backpack and tried to focus on correcting his many mistakes. He had a whole Sunday to get the job done and he had completed his homework assignments from his other classes. If there was ever time to puff the magic dragon…