Metropolis of Mediocrity

VERSE 1

No hobbies for you, just the red, white, and blue

Say the Pledge of Allegiance ‘til Satan is defeated

Punch-down comedians in an idiot contest

Take Pink Floyd and George Carlin out of context

They say the seven words and still need an education

Egocentric minds trained to recognize one nation

The rest of the world is outside of the bubble

Cross the borderline and you’re in biblical trouble

 

CHORUS

Metropolis of mediocrity

Miles away from the bluest blue cities

Break free from the doomer mindset

The key to your chains costs the same as your rent

 

VERSE 2

Romantic dinner at Dairy Dan’s

Movie at Yardbirds, holding calloused hands

Those wounds tell the story of religious abuse

You could call 9-1-1, but it’s just old news

Bringing her baggage into your union of love

The eyes of her god are watching from above

Say the words “I do” on your wedding day

You’re too young for this shit, barely older than eight

 

CHORUS

Metropolis of mediocrity

Miles away from the bluest blue cities

Break free from the doomer mindset

The key to your chains costs the same as your rent

 

VERSE 3

A new city and a new abode

Finally free, but stuck in fight or flight mode

You ran from your trauma, but you kept the pain

Forever a prisoner of a malfunctioning brain

The new friends you make don’t last forever

They can’t help you with the ties you must sever

Create your own greatness, but they call it ego

Show vulnerability and they call you emo

 

EXTENDED CHORUS

Metropolis of mediocrity

Miles away from the bluest blue cities

Break free from the doomer mindset

The key to your chains costs the same as your rent

You can run all you want, but hiding’s not an option

The cycle ends here, because only you can stop it

Enough is enough is a mantra, not a cliché

The next generation learns from how you behave

 

OUTRO

You take your stories to the grave!

Those lessons make the children brave!

Let them learn their own worth!

Greatness is a gift from the day of their birth!

Always Wrong

You call me lazy while you sit on the couch

You call me fat while your gut’s sticking out

You call me expendable and wave your pink slip

You call me an idiot while your IQ takes a dip

You call me ugly while your lover is puking

You call me a simp while it’s her you’re abusing

You call me a loser while you’re floundering about

You call me a deadbeat while your future’s in doubt

You call me a snowflake while your eyes are pouring

You say I’m wasting my time while your life is boring

You say I’m virtue signaling to an audience of few

Yet the back of your truck says you “Back the Blue”

You’re running your mouth and you say it’s free speech

But all of my freedoms are somehow just out of reach

You abuse the constitution to make yourself feel strong

You’re not a model of strength, because you’re always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

I’ll say it over and over across a lifetime so long

Always wrong! Always wrong!

It’s a never-ending chorus for a never-ending song

Always wrong! Always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

How are you a threat when you’re always wrong?!

A Little Bit

VERSE 1

A little bit annoying, a little bit weird

A little bit chunky, a little bit feared

A little introspective, a little out in space

A little bit friendly, yet you spit in my face

 

VERSE 2

A little bit tired, a little bit lazy

A little bit foggy, a little bit hazy

A little bit angry, a little bit sad

A little bit depressed, lock me up with the mad

 

BRIDGE

You took an innocent little boy who did no wrong

Called him every name in the book so he could be strong

But that shit doesn’t work, you disgusting jerk

The gentle young man now goes berserk

 

VERSE 3

A little unpacking, a little therapy

A little dark magic, a little heresy

A little bit of fun, a little bit of joy

Welcome demon man, goodbye little boy

A little black humor, a little bit of spice

A little bit of fire, a little bit of ice

A little bit hard rock, a little heavy metal

A little bit numbed out, no choice but to settle

 

FINAL LINES

Goodbye baby boy

Goodbye rattle toy

Hello burned out man

Break the cycle if you can

Put it off ‘til tomorrow

One more day of sorrow

Put it off another week

Keep the future bleak

Guy Hogan

 =========================================

THE BASICS

=========================================

Name: Guy Hogan

Nicknames: Sheriff, Lone Star

Gender: Cisgender Male

Age: 52

Birth Date: 448 AM

Birth Place: Morgan Town

Currently Living In: Morgan Town

Species: Human

Ethnicity / Race: White

Citizenship: Honey Valley

Religion / Beliefs: Right-Winger

=========================================

FAMILY

=========================================

Father: Bart Hogan

Age: Dead

Relationship: Spoiled

Mother: Lisa Hogan

Age: Dead

Relationship: Spoiled

=========================================

PHYSICAL FEATURES:

=========================================

Height: 5’11”

Weight: 287 lbs.

Frame / Build: Chubby

Hair length: Long bald horseshoe

Hair color: Brown

Eye shape: Round

Eye color: Blue

Complexion: Fair

Face size: Jowly

Voice type: Grating

Foot size: 15 Men’s

Tattoo(s): None

Scar(s): Possum bite on his finger

Other notable accessories: Golden Hoop Earrings

Any other identifying mark(s): Bushy beard

=========================================

SOCIO / ECONOMIC / POLITICAL

=========================================

Political Affiliation: Conservative

Economic Class: Rich

Social Class: Law Enforcement

Occupation: Sheriff of Morgan Town

Income: High (including bribes)

Residence: Morgan Town

Transportation: Feet

=========================================

INTERESTS

=========================================

Favorite Food(s): Ham Sandwich

Favorite Sport(s): Cage Fighting

Favorite Book(s): Doesn’t read

Favorite Show(s): TV isn’t around yet

Favorite Music: Doesn’t like music

Favorite Color(s): Brown and red

Clothing Style / Preferences: Sheriff vest, baggy pants, knee boots, and plume hat

Hobbies: Playing pool, gambling, and cooking

Role Model(s): His parents and Orpheus Rinehart

Likes: Bribes, dessert, always getting his way, living comfortably, bullying poor people

Dislikes: Aforementioned poor people, elves, libraries, women who resist him

=========================================

PERSONALITY

=========================================

Good Qualities / Trait(s): Powerful, influential, and a spotless arrest record

Vices / Negative Trait(s): Spoiled, racist, can’t take criticism, and easily angered

Strengths: Power, influence, and good in combat

Weaknesses: Tires easily due to his obesity and is unmotivated if money isn’t involved

Habits / Idiosyncrasies / Quirks: Farts, chuckles, and burps

Phobia / Fears: Elves, lacking control, and riots

Select one personality type below that best describes your character:

PROTECTORS

[X] Overseer (ESTJ) – Thrives on facts and details. Has a clear set of standards and beliefs. They are hardworking, responsible, and self-confident. They rely on experiences rather than speculation, and make decisions based on these. Very good at enforcing laws and rules. Loyal and hard-working. Like to be in charge. Very organized, tends to be a stickler for the rules.

Define your character’s personality based on the following aspects:

a. Physically: Intimidating, commands authority

b. Psychologically: Spoiled rotten, hair-trigger temper

c. Spiritually: Makes fun of Magetans

d. Emotionally: Spoiled rotten

e. Socially: Despite his off-putting and obnoxious nature, he still commands obedience

=========================================

HISTORY

=========================================

1. Describe the character’s childhood. Guy Hogan grew up with rich parents who gave him everything he ever wanted while very rarely saying no to him. He developed a god complex in his teenaged years, which led him to running for Sheriff and winning. Now he takes bribes to feed his spoiled child habit while doing very little to protect the disenfranchised.

2. Name the good incidents that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped his personality? He got to eat as much as he wanted, especially at his birthday parties.

3. Name bad experiences that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped his personality? Because he was never told no, he never formed empathy for other people and became the selfish sheriff that he is.

4. What is the character doing when first introduced? What are his goals at this point? He’s accepting a bribe from Christian Savage to let his beat-down of Tarja Rikkinen go unnoticed. His goal is to continue to live comfortably and hopefully use his influence to get laid someday.

4a. Do these goals change at any point in the story? He firmly sides with Shadow Asylum when the heat gets hot. He’ll do whatever they want him to do whether they pay him or not.

=========================================

STORY DEVELOPMENT:

=========================================

CHARACTER ARCHETYPE: (Put an X on all applicable boxes)

[] Addict (Conspicuous Consumer, Glutton, Workaholic–see also Gambler)

[] Advocate (Attorney, Defender, Legislator, Lobbyist, Environmentalist)

[] Alchemist (Wizard, Magician, Scientist, Inventor–see also Visionary)

[] Angel (Fairy Godmother/Godfather)

[X] Antagonist (Opposing View, not necessarily the Evil Bad — see also Villain)

[] Anti-Hero

[] Artist (Artisan, Craftsperson, Sculptor, Weaver)

[] Athlete (Olympian)

[] Avenger (Avenging Angel, Savior, Messiah)

[] Beggar (Homeless person/ Indigent)

[X] Bully (Coward)

[] Catalyst

[] Child (Orphan, Wounded, Magical/Innocent, Nature, Divine, Puer/Puella Eternis, or Eternal Boy/Girl)

[] Clown (Court Jester, Fool, Dummling)

[] Companion (Friend, Sidekick, Right Arm, Consort)

[] Damsel (Princess)

[] Destroyer (Attila, Mad Scientist, Serial Killer, Spoiler)

[X] Detective (Spy, Double Agent, Sleuth, Snoop, Sherlock Holmes, Private Investigator, Profiler–see also Warrior/Crime Fighter)

[] Dilettante (Amateur)

[] Don Juan (Casanova, Gigolo, Seducer, Sex Addict)

[] Engineer (Architect, Builder, Schemer)

[] Exorcist (Shaman)

[] Father (Patriarch, Progenitor)

[] Femme Fatale (Black Widow, Flirt, Siren, Circe, Seductress, Enchantress)

[X] Gambler

[] God (Adonis, see also Hero)

[] Gossip (see also Networker)

[] Guide (Guru, Sage, Crone, Wise Woman, Spiritual Master, Evangelist, Preacher)

[] Healer (Wounded Healer, Intuitive Healer, Caregiver, Nurse, Therapist, Analyst, Counselor)

[X] Hedonist (Bon Vivant, Chef, Gourmet, Gourmand, Sybarite–see also Mystic)

[] Hermit (see also Wise old Man)

[] Hero/Heroine (see also Knight, Warrior)

[] Judge (Critic, Examiner, Mediator, Arbitrator)

[] King (Emperor, Ruler, Leader, Chief — see also Politician)

[] Knight in Shining Armor

[] Liberator

[] Lover

[] Martyr

[] Mediator (Ambassador, Diplomat, Go-Between)

[] Mentor (Master, Counselor, Tutor)

[] Messiah (Redeemer, Savior)

[] Midas/Miser

[] Monk/Nun (Celibate)

[] Mother (Matriarch, Mother Nature)

[] Mystic (Renunciate, Anchorite, Hermit)

[] Networker (Messenger, Herald, Courier, Journalist, Communicator)

[] Pioneer (Explorer, Settler, Pilgrim, Innovator)

[] Poet

[X] Politician (see also King)

[] Priest (Priestess, Minister, Rabbi, Evangelist)

[] Prince

[] Prostitute

[] Queen (Empress)

[] Rebel (Anarchist, Revolutionary, Political Protester, Nonconformist, Pirate)

[] Rescuer

[] Saboteur

[] Samaritan

[] Scribe (Copyist, Secretary, Accountant–see also Journalist)

[] Seeker (Wanderer, Vagabond, Nomad)

[] Servant (Indentured Servant)

[] Shape-shifter (Spell-caster–see also Trickster)

[] Slave

[] Spectre (Ghost / Apparition with Unresolved issues)

[] Storyteller (Minstrel, Narrator)

[] Student / Scholar (Disciple, Devotee, Follower, Apprentice)

[] Teacher (Instructor, see also Mentor)

[] Thief (Swindler, Con Artist, Pickpocket, Burglar, Robin Hood)

[] Threshold Guardian

[] Trickster (Puck, Provocateur)

[X] Turncoat

[] Vampire

[] Victim

[X] Villain / Shadow (Big Bad of the story; see also Antagonist)

[] Virgin (see also Celibate)

[] Visionary (Dreamer, Prophet, Seer–see also Guide, Alchemist)

[] Warrior (Soldier, Crime Fighter, Amazon, Mercenary, Soldier of Fortune, Gunslinger, Samurai)

[] Wise old Man (see also Hermit)

1. What are the motivations for the character’s actions? Living easy and always wanting more than he already has, which is a lot.

2. What are the character’s goals / ambition / dreams? To have his own castle despite never being royalty

3. What external conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? Bully as many naysayers as he can, including elves.

3a. What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? He has to keep up the illusion that he is a sheriff and not a crook with a badge, so his dealings have to be subtle.

4. What inner conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? Satisfying his genocidal nature and resisting criticism.

4a. What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? His opponents are more physically fit and generally better fighters than him, which he can always nullify with a Devon Bay firearm.

=========================================

AUTHOR’S NOTES / MISCELLANY

=========================================

Character theme song: “Bad to the Bone” by George Thorogood and the Destroyers

Celebrity / IRL lookalike: The Bastion Booger

Pointless Thoughts

Stuck in the mud with these pointless thoughts

Dreaming about murder and never getting caught

Descending into madness with every bully’s word

Every kiss begins with K, how fucking absurd

Rumination is the word of this never-ending day

Getting revenge on the voices, but it’s me who pays

I could argue until my jaw is clamped down tight

Sore facial muscles with every phantom bite

A headache that won’t go away with some Advil

A demonic revelation even after I take sad pills

Kiss the girls and only make yourself cry

Take the punches and make some wishes to die

Take the insults without asking reasons why

Take the abuse until your insides are fried

Pointless thoughts, what the fuck are you doing?

Eating me alive, what the fuck are you chewing?

One mind against a meat suit full of organs

Betrayal from within, should I drink some Captain Morgan?

Is a bottle full of poison the answer to it all?

The answer is never, so I continue to brawl

If it takes forever to keep my brain in line

Then I’m putting on the gloves, your ass is mine!

A History of Violence

MOVIE TITLE: A History of Violence

DIRECTOR: David Cronenberg

YEAR: 2005

GENRE: Thriller

RATING: R for violence, language, and sex

GRADE: A

A story about a diner-owner saving his establishment from a robbery would have been thrilling enough on his own. But where exactly did Tom Stall get his fighting skills from? It wasn’t just blind luck. He didn’t take martial arts courses. Maybe he was ex-military, but why would an ex-military guy suddenly have mafia goons calling him Joey when his name is clearly Tom? He’s hiding something, not only from the town that praises his actions, but also his own family. The growing tension between Tom and his family is a focal point of the story’s drama. The more that comes out about him, the more isolated he becomes from the one he loves. I was going to dock this movie a point for a sometimes slow pace, but that slow pace actually helps intensify the drama. Tension needs time to build. In the case of the audience, they’re going to feel all the hate and anger that Tom and his family feels towards the ones who wronged them…right before they implode on each other. If you have a history of violence, the cycle will eventually repeat itself. Building tension and sending anxiety through the audience are this movie’s strong suits.

But of course, you can’t call the movie A History of Violence and not have a good deal of violence in it. Tom Stall’s punches, kicks, and limb breaks are so brutal that they’re satisfying to watch as they happen to everyone who messes with his family. But the cherry on top of the blood-covered sundae came from Jack Stall, Tom’s son, who had been bullied all year at school by a redneck named Bobby and his friends. Jack just absolutely wrecked Bobby and it was so delicious to watch. As a former bullying victim myself, I love watching these kinds of scenes. Of course, Tom isn’t happy with how Jack handled it, because that’s not how his family solves problems…but Tom totally does as he slaps his son for smart-mouthing him. Pot, meet kettle. But that just widens the divide between Tom and his family, so blatant hypocrisy adds to the building tension that the movie does so well.

I won’t spoil the ending for everyone, so I’ll speak as vaguely as possible. By the time all is said and done, we don’t know if the main problem is solved. We don’t know if Jack will face repercussions other than suspension for the pounding he gave Bobby. We don’t know if Edie (Tom’s wife) can carry on with her marriage. We don’t know if Sarah (Tom’s daughter) will stop seeing monsters at night. But most importantly, we don’t know if this cycle of violence will continue or if everything falls apart. Normally, this kind of open-ended storytelling is ideal for producing a sequel, which I wouldn’t be against. But even without a sequel, this is effective storytelling because it leaves the audience with anxiety-inducing questions long after it’s over. They’re free to exercise their imaginations. It’s not even confusion they feel. It’s a genuine interest in seeing the story beyond its ninety-six minutes. By renting space in the audience’s head long after it’s over, A History of Violence truly did its job of telling an effective story.

Everybody played their roles to perfection. The violence was satisfying whenever it happened to the bad guys (Bobby included). The drama was never in a cool state even after those bad guys get their comeuppance. It started off slow, yes, but that’s something I’m willing to forgive since the rest of the movie kicked it into high gear with the action and drama. If you feel like your patience is being tested, keep watching it all the way through, because you’ll get everything you want and more…even if the ending leaves you with more questions than answers. A History of Violence gets five out of five stars.

Calling You Out

CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!

VERSE 1

When I’m walking down the street in the summer heat

I might get my ass beat for a yucky-yucky Tweet

Cancel culture isn’t real, but I still don’t like the feel

Of high pitched squeals beating me down like steel

Rapid fire insults are like punches to my gut

They wouldn’t know my pain if it bit them on the butt

I’ll do all my Tweeting from a padded prison cell

You’re the villains of the story, in case you can’t tell

CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!

VERSE 2

You’re like the pizza-pizza guy from Little Caesar’s

Just say “gangster-gangster”, you My Pillow squeezer

That’s what you really are: a gangster in the dark

Creeping on me while I’m walking through the park

I could never run fast, I would always finish last

In a marathon sprint, put me in a leg cast

Can’t get away from the fortune and the fame

Every fall from grace sounds about the same

CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!

VERSE 3

I’m eating with my friends, I’m eating with my family

You say my words are crazy while you suffer from insanity

You made your point about fifty years ago, my guy

You’d think by now that it dissolved into a lie

CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!

Destroy and Reform

VERSE 1

When you hang on to the macho mentality of the past

It’s no wonder why your students won’t come to class

No one wants a lashing with a bamboo whipping cane

No one wants false history to liquefy their brains

No one wants to do homework for the rest of eternity

No one wants the bullies to taunt them with absurdity

No one wants to grow up with a brainwashed point of view

No one wants to be a part of the putty-faced crew

CHORUS

Destroy and reform

Never obey and conform

Rebellion is the new norm

Been that way since we were born

VERSE 2

Nobody wants to serve sundaes to entitled Karens

Nobody wants to be screamed at while running errands

Nobody wants to gaze into the abyss of a factory

Nobody wants to pick fruit that triggers allergies

Nobody wants to collect garbage for a few cents

Nobody wants to unclog toilets just to pay the rent

Nobody wants to coast when they’ve got passion to boast

With just one poem, they turn a request in a roast

CHORUS

Destroy and reform

Never obey and conform

Rebellion is the new norm

Been that way since we were born

BRIDGE

Five dollars an hour isn’t going to cut it

Don’t argue against that, fucking shut it

Dystopia shouldn’t feel so natural

As we swallow the last of our Adderall

VERSE 3

Never accept less than being treated as human

Never vote for politicians who’re useless

Never raise your hand for an uncaring teacher

Only rely on yourself to be a truth-seeker

Never give that job to a nutcase fuck-up

Never thrive in the world by being a suck-up

Never compromise what makes you special

Lest you be an empty shell of a vessel

CHORUS

Destroy and reform

Never obey and conform

Rebellion is the new norm

Been that way since we were born

Born to Trauma Bond

VERSE 1

All my enemies are fighting with AK-47’s

And all I’ve ever had was a wet toothpick

Might as well raise my tattered white flag

Because anything else would just be useless

We sign the peace treaty at the break of dawn

They get to have all the gold and the silver

All I ever get is some scraps from the table

Asking for more means bringing out the killers

CHORUS 1

Stop telling me to man the fuck up

A thick skin doesn’t mean jack shit

To a kid who was born to trauma bond

Until the day I’m fitted for a casket

VERSE 2

Everyone and their uncle push my boundaries

Until there’s nothing left to knock over

Could fight them off with a bastard sword

Until they leave me punch-drunk, never sober

And when every broken bone is finally healed

I still come out of it looking like the villain

They controlled the narrative from the first word

It’s what they pass on to their budding children

CHORUS 2

Stop telling me to grow a set of balls

A heart of stone isn’t in my nature

I’m a kid who was born to trauma bond

With every lover and every little hater

BRIDGE

They say I’m too sensitive

It’s a hallmark of my generation

I just need some military instruction

To shake me from my comfy situation

They say if I can’t handle the heat

I should fuck off from the kitchen

I should cowboy up and lock and load

And most of all just quit my bitchin’

VERSE 3

Word of advice to the assholes of the day

Don’t teach me how to shoot a gun

One of these days, I just might use it

A bullet is something you can’t outrun

You’re cocky and arrogant, what else is new?

You also have some narcissistic tendencies

One of these days, I’ll catch you slipping

And spill the blood of my favorite enemy

CHORUS 3

Stop telling me that being brave is easy

When you’re blessed with your privileges

I’m a dude who was born to trauma bond

Just like a good model American citizen

Stop threatening to put me in prison

When you’re the one who deserves it

If it means I don’t have to trauma bond

I’ll pump you with lead like I’m in the service

FINAL VERSE

I’m free from the prison of my mind

But now I’ve got brand new confines

A hellhole with bars on all four sides

And some beatings if I dare even cry

The cycle of abuse begins yet again

Every orange suit is my new best friend

Every guard is my brand new mommy

Be sure to open wide for the salty salami

Save the World

 VERSE 1

I talked some shit online about Dumbass Donald

And his favorite butt puppet Moscow McConnell

I got a million replies telling me I should die

Telling me they’ll drink my liberal tears if I cry

I got a head full of demons and nothing accomplished

Couldn’t find anything we could share in common

But at least I performed my own civic duty

Even though my mind is melting into something gooey

CHORUS

Why does everybody expect me to save the world?

By myself! With nobody else!

Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?

I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!

VERSE 2

I went to the protest and held up my cardboard sign

Got a face full of mace and now I’m legally blind

Got a beer bottle broken over my pretty little head

If I come for round two, they’ll shoot my ass dead

I got a hospital bill and not a damn thing changed

I’ve got years of therapy, who’s willing to pay?

But at least I can say that I’ve got some big balls

I hope they’ll help against my debt collection calls

CHORUS

Why does everybody expect me to save the world?

By myself! With nobody else!

Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?

I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!

BRIDGE

Is it too much to ask that I see some results

To go with my beatings and bigoted insults?

Is it too much to ask for systematic reform

When dystopia has become the new norm?

Is it too much to ask for some compensation

When I’m crucified by the Teabag nation?

Is it too much to ask that my efforts matter

Or should we keep making the fat cats fatter?

VERSE 3

I went to the courthouse and filed a lawsuit

Against everybody who dared to lick boots

Case dragged on for a whole millennium

I couldn’t outspend every single defendant

I did my best and not a fucking thing improved

No tears for me, because nobody was moved

I guess you could tell me, “Welcome to the club”

Before you beat my ass with it, stain it in blood

EXTENDED CHORUS

Why does everybody expect me to save the world?

By myself! With nobody else!

Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?

I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!

Why does everybody think I’ve got what it takes

Then brush it all off with the phrase, “That’s the breaks?”

Why can’t I just lay in bed with my pretty kitty?

I’m not Batman and this is not Gotham City!

The Babylon Killers

VERSE 1
He takes award-winning pictures of sensual snacks
It’s the locker room photographer Rutherford Jax
Exposing your flaws with just one snapshot
Micro dick and two cherries are all you’ve got
Sell your dark secrets to the highest bidders
Your mother, your father, and your babysitter
Your boss, your woman, and the public at large
The highest prices are all that he’ll charge

CHORUS 1
It ain’t no mystery wrapped up in a thriller
No sock puppets here, just The Babylon Killers!

VERSE 2
Every time you call journalism a mental disease
You have to get passed Miss Emerald Ruiz
A hit piece that knocks the air out of your lungs
Emasculates your balls, soprano songs are sung
Whether you’re a racist, a sexist, or worse
Your own words and actions are your own curse
Canceled for waving your confederate flag
Savaged everywhere for calling gay people “fags”

CHORUS 2
Your slurs and your whining are newspaper filler
No brainwashed zealots, just The Babylon Killers!

VERSE 3
If the right to fight is still haunting your dreams
Let me introduce your ass to Matthew Scream
You can throw the first punch for no price
When he throws one back, grab the bag of ice
Knees to your gut and boots to your nuts
Teeth to your neck, such delicious blood
Fingers in your eyes, you can tap out or die
Who’s the snowflake now? Go have a good cry

CHORUS 3
No lies for a prize, just some hard truth spillers
No boot lickers here, just The Babylon Killers!

VERSE 4
You’re a keyboard warrior with multiple personas
You’d say and do anything as long as you’re noticed
You’d break the law while flapping your jaw
You know we’ll fight back, it’s the final straw
Use your own bullying tactics against you
Until there’s nobody left to defend you
You’re a sad little lad who’s clearly gone mad
All because you couldn’t hack it, too damn bad

CHORUS 4
You’ve got sock puppets, but you’re an army of one
We’re The Babylon Killers, until the job is done
You’ve got nothing left but some ashes and tears
I’ve got The Babylon Killers and nothing to fear
And nothing to lose, not even a little snooze
Fucking with me is not a road you want to choose
If you gave up your campaign of venom and rage
You’d have something better than a crappy page

"Gary the Four-Eyed Fairy and Other Stories" by Frank Mundo

BOOK TITLE: Gary the Four-Eyed Fairy and Other Stories
AUTHOR: Frank Mundo
YEAR: 2011
GENRE: Fictional Short Stories
SUBGENRE: Contemporary
GRADE: Mixed

Let’s talk for a minute about the writing style of this book. It is easy to digest, which means reading sessions will generally last longer for audience members who tire too quickly. However, there are times when the style is a little TOO easy to digest. If we’re talking actual digestion, I was hoping for the middle ground between tough dry meat and a breath strip. Unfortunately, I got the breath strip end of the spectrum. There are times where he tells instead of shows (especially in the opening story). There are fight scenes and other dramatic moments that go by too soon. Some of the language sounds like it’s objectifying women. And then we have the repetition. In case you didn’t know it, the little girl in the first story smells like bologna. Don’t believe me? The author will tell you a gazillion times. This could be a literary technique I’m not privy to, but Frank Mundo does this throughout the entire book and it’s more noticeable than Gary’s bruises in one of the later stories. Because of these elements in the writing style, stories that were supposed to be emotionally impactful came across dryly.

Awkward writing style aside, that doesn’t mean I couldn’t pick out favorites when it comes to entries in this collection. The second story, Remorse, has two different narratives going on at the same time and they’re both tragic in the way they end. One narrative is about a college student falsely accused of rape and the other is about a sickly grandmother who wants JT (the main character) to kill her and put her out of her misery. Remorse was painful to read about and I mean that in the good way. I consider it one of the best stories in this entire collection. But it’s not without its glaring problems, namely the way Frank Mundo handles the subject of rape accusations and the intricacies of consent. In his mind, if someone gets drunk on beer and has sex afterwards, all bets are off and there is no case. Not the most sensitive way to handle such a topic. While false rape accusations do happen (albeit rarely), it does make me wonder how Frank Mundo views women and it worries me. He even refers to the accuser by a particular below the belt body part. The story still hit me where it hurts given how both narrative threads ended, but still, it can also rub people the wrong way in a negative light.

A Friend in Need, on the other hand, was appropriately handled. It’s a story about a college kid trying to write a letter to the parents of his deceased roommate. What’s the catch? The deceased roommate, Walter Garcia, has a drawer full of child pornography. The main character has to carefully word his letter so that he doesn’t offend the parents while also not masking his own disgust with Walter. And because he’s writing the letter on an old-fashioned typewriter, he keeps throwing away the pages whenever he makes a mistake or hates his writing in general. This story is one example where the simplistic writing style doesn’t hamper the emotional impact of it all. Frank Mundo can get away with it this time around. Not all the time, but this time around. The simplistic style allows for a speedy narrative and that’s the kind of pace you want when talking about a guy who’s struggling with his racing thoughts. This story is another one of my favorites from the collection.

There are times when it’s hard to enjoy this book, but enjoy it I did. Throughout my reading journey, I kept asking myself what kind of grade I would give it. Would I fail it because of the haphazard writing style? Would I pass it based on the content alone? After wrestling with myself in a mat classic, I settled on three stars out of five. Not the worst, not the best. It’s simply just there. Having given this book a mixed grade, would I recommend it to other readers? I guess it depends on the reader in question. In general, though? That’s going to require some more self-wrestling.

A Little Bit Off

Dr. Esther Villalobos hoped that the downpour outside would be sufficient in calming down her next patient. If not that, then the pictures of fluffy felines mounted on her walls. And if not that, then the musty smell of old books sitting on her shelves. Then again, perhaps the little things about her cozy office were just that: little. She knew full well that she had to be as delicate as possible when handling her newest client.

She remembered watching the media circus unfold on TV like it was yesterday. Every news anchor seemed to have an obsessive fixation on the demonic serial killer Lucy Butler. How she seduced and brainwashed her brilliant-minded abductees into believing their own mediocrity. How she played “Love Is Blue” by Paul Mauriat over and over again to drive that point home.

But the biggest thing that made Esther squirm in her chair all those days ago was how the media and subsequent viewers sexualized the hell out of Lucy Butler, whether it was her natural beauty, her alluring methods, or just because hybristophilia was still a thing in this day and age. People said the exact same things about Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer, so maybe it shouldn’t have come as a big surprise. Still, Esther shivered at the thought of romanticizing such a brutal killer.

“I could definitely use a cigarette right now,” said Esther to nobody in particular as she sat in her swivel chair tapping her foot.

The nicotine would have to wait a little longer. There was a halfhearted knock on her door and she said, “Come in”, which the visitor did. Sure enough, the centerpiece of these Lucy Butler stories, Landon Bryce, skulked through the office door looking like hell. His blondish brown hair looked like it hadn’t been combed since god knows when. His Linkin Park T-shirt and blue jeans were covered in what looked like corn chip dust. Hopefully, that wasn’t all he was eating lately, but Esther wasn’t banking on any other answers. After all, the life in his once pretty eyes had been completely drained and his face sagged to show off his lack of zest for life.

Landon’s most noticeable feature, however, was the bruises and cuts all over his bony hands. Esther was no detective, but she had to assume those bloody scrapes had something to do with him getting in fights as recently as a few days ago. He didn’t seem to notice his own damage as he just stood in the doorway shivering lightly and staring at nothing like the zombie he was.

“Good morning,” said Esther in a soft, benign voice that didn’t betray the fact that she was a smoker. “You must be Landon. I’m Dr. Esther Villalobos. Please, make yourself at home. There’s a seat on the leather couch with your name on it.” He was in no hurry to lay down on the couch, but once he did, he found the comfort he needed to take deep breaths in an attempt to calm whatever chaos was going on his mind. He still trembled, though. “Before we begin, do you want some Vaseline for your hands? They look like they could use some TLC.”

“Huh?” Landon just now noticed the scars on his hand and languidly answered, “Sure, okay.”

Esther pulled a bottle of Vaseline out of her desk drawers and squirted a few drops into her patient’s palms. Landon hissed in pain as he rubbed the grease all over his wounds, but by the time he was finished massaging his hands, they already looked a little bit better than they did before. Any improvement was a victory in Esther’s mind.

As Landon laid on the couch allowing his anxiety to wash over him, Esther sat in her swivel chair with a clipboard in her lap and a look of concern on her middle-aged face. Her black hair showed a few streaks of white and her sweater and slacks attire showed off her advanced age even more, which hopefully translated into wisdom for Landon and therefore into somebody he could trust with his woes.

Esther adjusted her thin-rimmed glasses. “So, Landon…we talked on the phone before we made this appointment official. We bounced ideas back and forth about what we wanted to discuss. From what I can tell, you have no desire to relive your captivity, so that’s not a topic I’m going to dig too deeply into. Besides, anybody within the sound of the media’s voice knows everything they need to know about Lucy Butler’s disgusting behavior. I’m more interested in what life has been like after Agent Frank Black rescued you and the other boys. So…I guess my first question to you is…how are you feeling right now? Take as much time as you need to answer that question. Go into as much or as little detail as you’d like. This is your session, Landon. You make the rules.”

Silence hung between them with the exception of Landon’s deep breathing exercises, though comforting to anybody else, seemed to have very little effect in steadying his nerves. He had been through a lot, it seemed. “Well, Esther, I don’t think anybody really cares how I’m feeling right now…But to answer your question…I’m exhausted…I’m tired of fighting my own mind…But I know that if I fall asleep…I’m just going to have another nightmare about that woman…Every time she kissed me…Every time she felt me up…The same goddamn song over and over again…”

He sniffed a few times in between sentences and wiped a small tear from his eye before continuing. “You know…I haven’t told anybody this…But since we’re in therapy…Sometimes…after a really bad nightmare…where she gets to do whatever she wants with me…I lock the door to my bedroom…draw the curtains…take my pants off…and…and…” He wiped another tear from his eye.

Esther filled in the blanks of his statement right away and nodded. “I see.” She wrote down on her clipboard that in addition to PTSD, he appeared to be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, hence the masturbation.

He continued. “I know I shouldn’t be doing that to her…I hated being in her company…Every time I do it…I hate myself for it…I keep wondering…if the ceiling fan above my room will be enough to support my weight…”

“Landon…listen to me. I know suicide sounds tempting, but it’s not the solution to your problems. You came here today because you wanted relief from it all. You secretly want to live again. There’s not much life in your eyes right now…but I can see just enough that you care deeply about your recovery. Please reconsider.”

“I sometimes wish the kids and teachers at my school would feel the same way…When I was rescued…I went straight back to that…school…if you can call it that…I wasn’t ready…I never was…but I didn’t speak up…I was expected to just soldier on like nothing happened…I wasn’t allowed to ask the world to slow down for me…And right off the bat…everybody noticed…Everybody knew…and they teased me for it…Called me every homophobic slur in the book…said I should have liked being with such a sexy woman…”

“As if being beautiful excuses her appalling actions.”

“Exactly…You know…sometimes…I wish I was ugly…I wish I had a face full of pimples…a three hundred pound beer gut…not a hair on my head…That way…nobody would try to seduce me again…Nobody would tell me they loved me without really meaning it…”

“Landon, I’m going to stop you right there for a moment. There’s something you need to know about that.” Esther sighed and removed her glasses. “How attractive you are has nothing to do with whether or not you were molested. Do you understand? Seduction is just one of thousands of ways in which someone can hurt you. If someone wants to hurt you badly enough, they’ll find a way to do it. It’s not you…it’s them.”

Landon sniffled again. “Try telling that to my ex-girlfriend.”

“You had a girlfriend?”

“I’m not sure I’d call her that, but…after I was rescued…we went on one date together…When she asked me out…I was having a particularly shitty day…I leaned against my locker at school just waiting for the waterworks to come out…She could have greeted me any way she wanted to…She could have said hi…She could have smiled at me…You know what she did?...She ran her nails down my back…On one hand it felt like a nice massage…On the other…it reminded me too much of Lucy…and…I ended up saying yes to her….Like I had something to prove to all of my bullies…Like I wanted to dispel all of those times someone called me a faggot or a queer…She said she liked me for my…’experience’…I was disgusted with her saying that…and I said yes to her anyways…”

Esther took more notes on her clipboard after putting her glasses back on. “How did your date go?”

“About as well as you’d expect it to…I was all numbed out…I couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying…or what the plot of the movie was…Hell, I couldn’t even concentrate in school…That’s why my grades look like shit…I couldn’t even tell if me and my girl had a good time…But when it was over…and she tried to kiss me goodnight…I freaked out…Her lips…they tasted like Lucy’s…All of the sudden…I wasn’t seeing a blond sweetheart anymore…I saw Lucy…I ran away from her screaming…”

“She doesn’t sound like a very considerate girlfriend to me.”

“That’s why we never saw each other again…But at school…the gay slurs…the rape jokes…the pushes…the shoves…they started getting worse…I was constantly throwing up in the bathroom…I was crying my eyes out when nobody would see me…I would sometimes try to leave school on my own…But it was never enough…You want to know why I have scars on my hands?...Because one day…after one of those kids caught me crying…they laughed at me…and laughed…and laughed…so I did the one thing I knew would get me kicked out of school forever…I beat their asses…I punched them so hard their noses broke…their teeth crunched…I kneed them in the balls…kicked them in the ribs…I just kept seeing red…and it was glorious…It gave me the relief I needed…So beautiful…” He punctuated that last line with a smile, giving Esther her own form of anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

“Landon, I’m going to stop you right there for now. You look like you need to stop as well.” Esther took her glasses off again and folded her hands in her lap. “You sound like you’re going through some heavy mental trauma. The lack of concentration, the nightmares, the vomiting, the lack of eating…you can’t live like this any longer. Something has to be done about it. I’m not going to lie to you, Landon. The road to recovery is going to be a long one. It’s going to be tiring. And it’s also going to depend on how far you’re willing to go to achieve your healing. Tell me, Landon…” She leaned in closer. “What are you willing to do to make this pain go away?”

The tears came more frequently and Landon gave up on trying to stop them. “Anything…anything at all…”

“Anything?”

“Yes, damn it, anything!”

“Good…because what I’m about to suggest to you…is so illegal…that you can’t tell anybody about it. You can only do it while you’re in my office. If I get caught administering this to you, I could not only go to jail, but I’d never be able to practice medicine again, which you in turn won’t find your healing. Are you ready?”

“I’m sick of crying all the time…I want to eat food that doesn’t taste like my kidnapper…You’re damn right I’m ready…”

Esther pulled a key out of her pocket and unlocked a bottom drawer before pulling out a vaping pen and handing it to Landon.

“Is this what I think it is?...You want me to smoke marijuana?...I can’t…No, I can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because…I was already in one prison when Lucy kidnapped me…I don’t need to go to another for smoking pot…”

Esther leaned in closer. “Landon…you said you would do anything for relief. You’re not going to find that relief in Xanax or Sertraline. Marijuana has no side effects. It’s not a codependency. It actually does its job in a quick amount of time. Landon, you’re already in a prison. You’re a prisoner of your own mind. And that vaping pen? That’s the key to your cell.”

“Pfft…Yeah right…”

Esther shook her head. “What happened to you, Landon? Before you were kidnapped and molested, you raged against the machine. You told your teachers to shove those C+’s up their asses. Where’s that rebellious spirit?”

“It’s gone, Esther. Every time I rebel against the system, somebody gets hurt.”

“Doing nothing will get even more people hurt.”

“Maybe Lucy was right all along. Maybe mediocrity is all I’ve got left. Maybe those C+’s on my report card…”

“Enough!” Esther interrupted. “Those C+’s and D-‘s? They’re just letters on a piece of paper, no different from the other letters. They don’t determine your self worth. Demonic serial killers with a fetish for bad music don’t determine your self worth either. You do. You know you weren’t destined for a boring life. You know deep in your heart you want to save the world. The more you fight your rebellious urges, the stronger they become. You may not know it right now, but the world needs your voice.”

“Tell that to the bullies at my…”

“I’m telling you!” Esther snapped. After watching Landon jump out of his skin, she apologized and fixed her own clothing. “Landon…Lucy Butler doesn’t love you…and those kids at school? They don’t matter. You do. Only you get to define what love means to you. Kidnapping someone and sexually torturing someone isn’t love. Love is free and kind, not forceful and toxic. You know this in your heart. You still have a heart after all this time. That’s why you’re here, to help yourself realize it. Please, Landon…you are taking a big risk by smoking that pen…but no amount of greatness comes without danger…You…were destined for greatness…”

Judging from the singular tear drops running down Landon’s face, Esther had hope that she had gotten through to him. And then…he took a puff of the pen. But when he blew out the vapors, he coughed like he was losing a lung. Esther said, “Sorry. Takes some getting used to.”

But once the coughing was over, so was the trembling. The tears on his cheeks were replaced by gentle redness. His once glassy eyes were closed. His breathing was slow and relaxed instead of labored and intensive. He seemed to sink to the leather couch in an attempt to fall asleep and hopefully have a dream about something other than molestation.

Esther smiled. “I’m not going to ask you how you’re doing, Landon. I already have the answer.”

“I’m in a lot of trouble, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Pfft…Who gives a shit?”

“My next patient won’t be here for a long time. You can take a quick nap if you’d like. I won’t mind.”

Landon was already one step ahead of her, breathing gently and allowing his head to roll over in relaxation. If he did give a response, it was jumbled and incoherent. Esther patted him on the head before sneaking out of her office and shushing her secretary.

By the time Esther went outside, the downpour had stopped and the sun was out. But for how long? Long enough for Esther to finally smoke that cigarette she earned. She pulled out a Camel and lit it with a match before taking a few drags. Like Landon with his vaping pen, Esther too relaxed as she leaned against the brick building. But at the same time, she looked at her cigarette with mild disgust.

“Don’t ever smoke these, Landon. We need that voice of yours to be as loud as possible…”

How the Grinch Stole Christmas

MOVIE TITLE: How the Grinch Stole Christmas

DIRECTOR: Ron Howard

YEAR: 2000

GENRE: Holiday Fantasy

RATING: PG for comic mischief and bullying

GRADE: Pass

There’s a reason why people who hate Christmas in real life are referred to as Grinches. They’re also called Scrooges and Bah-Humbugs, but being called a Grinch is a special kind of dishonor. Not only do you not want to enjoy the Christmas spirit yourself, but you’ll do anything humanly possible to make it miserable for everybody else, whether it’s playing cruel pranks or stealing presents. That’s the story Dr. Seuss got us all used to. But in this movie, we don’t see evil for the sake of evil. Sure, the Grinch was bullied as a kid and that’s what made him hate Christmas. Adding a traumatic back story doesn’t always equal goodwill, but this time it does. A green hairy monster loved by nobody and shunned by the wicked. If we’ve learned anything from The Joker in 2019, it’s not to mess with the disenfranchised. You will feel for the Grinch. You will cheer for him. And when he causes mayhem, you’ll laugh your head off.

A lot of this sympathy for the Grinch was helped magnificently by Jim Carrey’s performance as the title character. He’s not just an angry green monster. He’s eccentric. He’s comedic. He’s delightfully villainous. Whether it’s something as simple as the way he walks, eats, and dances or his witty dialogue that rolls off the tongue naturally, Jim Carrey has you by the throat the instant you start watching the movie. If Ace Ventura, The Mask, and The Riddler were injected into The Grinch’s rotten, yet damaged soul, that’s how Jim Carrey’s version of this character would be. But he’s not just comic relief. He’s nuanced to the point where everything he says holds water. This movie is often categorized as a drama-comedy and that combination of genres embodies Jim Carrey’s character perfectly. I’m not sure if he won an Oscar for his performance, but it’d be a crime not to give him one. I know, I know, it seems laughable to do so, but is it really?

You know who else had a convincing performance in this movie? Taylor Momsen, who portrayed little Cindy Lou Who, the only character in the Who village with enough commonsense to see Christmas for what it really is: capitalism in disguise. She knows full well that Christmas should prioritize family love and friendship over materialism, which is why she nominates The Grinch to be the Cheer Meister, because if anybody needs love, it’s him. Taylor Momsen portrayed her character as a sweet, bubbly, optimistic child who wouldn’t hurt a fly. That makes her message of family love more believable than the bombastic Mayor’s “buy, buy, buy” rhetoric. Sure, she’s not taken seriously at first because she’s a child and there’s ageism running rampant. But don’t worry, because Taylor Momsen would eventually grow up to become the lead singer of The Pretty Reckless. Not bad for a little one!

Movie reboots get a bad rap for being worse than their source material, but that’s not the case with How the Grinch Stole Christmas. In fact, I’d say it surpasses the original cartoon from the 1960’s. The Grinch has a more colorful personality, Cindy Lou Who is as sweet as a bug’s ear, and everybody else is living in those two lead characters’ world. Step aside, Mayor; you’re the real Grinch around here. A passing grade will go to this holiday classic. Wow. I can’t believe I’m calling a movie made in 2000 a classic. I’m getting old! Then again, if growing old was a bad thing, there’d be no Pretty Reckless and boy, do I need my rock and roll!

Joker

MOVIE TITLE: Joker

DIRECTOR: Todd Phillips

YEAR: 2019

GENRE: Psychological Thriller

RATING: R for violence, swearing, and disturbing themes

GRADE: Extra Credit

Humanizing a violent criminal is a tall task in and of itself. Getting sympathy for any kind of character is harder than it looks (trust me, I’ve tried). When you watch this movie, not only will you have sympathy for Arthur Fleck a.k.a. The Joker, but you’ll cheer for him as well. There’s more to building a sympathetic villain than throwing in a tragic back story and calling it a day. This movie went above and beyond in developing the Joker character. He’s mentally ill, he’s rejected by society because of his awkward behavior, he’s impoverished, and he’s the target of violence just as much as he’s the instigator. While people wouldn’t under any circumstances condone his violent behavior, they will at least understand it. They might even learn to treat fellow members of society with respect. Nobody starts out as an evil person. They’re slowly built into one by the forces around them. Again, it doesn’t excuse Joker’s murders nor does it give the incel community an idol to look up to. But the more we see each other as human beings, the more we act like human beings.

Of course, none of this sympathy would have been possible if not for the brilliant acting work of Joaquin Phoenix, who played The Joker. In fact, Mr. Phoenix might be telling Heath Ledger to hold his beer (no disrespect to Mr. Ledger). The pathological laughter, the nervousness around strangers, the poor cadence of his jokes, the sadness when he’s alone, they all looked believable coming from Joaquin Phoenix. Mental illness is a lonely obstacle for someone to overcome. Nobody wanted to be around The Joker when he was at his worst and the actor brought that loneliness to life through his character work. It took a lot of studying and reading in order to get this villain down perfectly. Mr. Phoenix’s passion for what he does is obvious in his roles. If he doesn’t get an Oscar for this performance, I’m going to be very surprised and upset. Granted, I won’t give the Army nervous fits with my level of disappointment and nor should anybody else. You hear that, terrorists? Be nice!

Somewhere in this nature vs. nurture debate, there’s a modern day dystopia happening all around The Joker. Garbage is piling up, rats are infesting the city, the disenfranchised are being bullied, social programs are being cut, and poverty is at an all time high. When politicians and oligarchs use their influence to enrich themselves at the expense of others, distrust starts to build between the social classes. It doesn’t always end in riots and violence, but sitting down and doing nothing doesn’t cross their minds either. In many ways, the dystopian politics of this movie reminds me a lot of what’s going on in the real world under the Trump administration. So we have a realistic Joker and a realistic political system. Superhero movies get a bad rap for being cartoonish and comical, right? You know what Joaquin Phoenix and the rest of the crew says to that? “Hold our beers.”

Everything that could go right with this movie did go right. It’s gritty, it’s real, it’s dark, and nothing was out of place. Keeping a smile on your face all of your life is close to impossible. It’s okay to feel bad sometimes. Toxic positivity did nobody any good. But if you must rage against the machine with a nihilistic point of view, don’t cross the point of no return like The Joker did. An extra credit grade will go to this modern day masterpiece. Now THAT’S something worth smiling about!

Take My Demons Away

VERSE 1

Just reach inside my head, pull them out one-by-one

You don’t have to tie the noose or fire the loaded gun

You make it sound so easy to forget the fucking past

Your argument is worthless and it’ll never even last

CHORUS

Take the bone saw and open up my head

Disconnect the memories until they’re dead

If it’s really so easy it could be done in a day

Then by all means, take my demons away!

Take my demons away!

VERSE 2

It’s a simple magic trick that anybody can do

Both of us already know that isn’t fucking true

A wave of a wand or some Fantasia fireworks

Are you my new savior or just a fucking jerk?

CHORUS

Take the bone saw and open up my head

Disconnect the memories until they’re dead

If it’s really so easy it could be done in a day

Then by all means, take my demons away!

Take my demons away!

BRIDGE

Your magic potions smell like bleach

A clear mind is something you can’t teach

Your expectations are too far out of reach

Indoctrination is something you can’t preach!

Take my demons away!

Take my demons away!

CHORUS

Take the bone saw and open up my head

Disconnect the memories until they’re dead

If it’s really so easy it could be done in a day

Then by all means, take my demons away!

Take my demons away!

Pain

OPENING LINE

I’m not going to sit here and pretend it doesn’t hurt just so I can make you feel comfortable.

VERSE 1

Why should I be ashamed to talk about what’s hurting inside?

Because male genitals are supposed to be symbol of pride?

If you dig into my corners, darkness is all that you’ll find

Going to catch me like an assassin sneaking up from behind

You could get away with murder if you were in my math class

You could giggle in my ear and put your hand upon my ass

You could take away my ability to focus on the simple tasks

How many polynomials was I supposed to fucking add?

CHORUS 1

Pain! Pain! It’s never really over!

Growing up to have brand new owners!

Pain! Pain! It’s never really fair!

When you attract laughter and wicked stares!

VERSE 2

Why should I be ashamed to dump my problems onto the web?

Because all of this bullshit has somehow already been said?

So much support coming from all over the fucking world, huh?

Yet it still seems appropriate to crawl in bed and curl up

Jealousy and envy are just more feelings for the back burner

Rejection is for suckers who refuse to be fast learners

Charisma is for those who were born with the genetic code

For staying cool when life makes your head want to explode

CHORUS 2

Pain! Pain! It’s never really just!

The suffering and agony were all just a bust!

Pain! Pain! It’s never really explained!

Comes at me full force like a runaway train!

CHORUS 3

Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the weak!

It’s even for the supermen and super freaks!

Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the teens!

But every motherfucker who loves to bleed!

Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the crippled!

Spreads across the land like an earthquake ripple!

Pain! Pain! Let’s talk about our pain!

Before we become another suicide stain!

Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain!

The Sadness Olympics

Melanie Chappell’s legs rattled underneath her graduation robe while her mind bombarded her with traumatic images. Every gunshot. Every scream of death. Every splatter of blood. And then the coup-de-grace: one final bullet from the shooter’s gun aimed at his own head. Just like that it was all over, but in Melanie’s numbed out brain, it still went on.

How dare these students and faculty members carry on without her? How dare they leave her behind while she suffered silently? Her grades could get her into any school she wanted, but all the A+’s in the world couldn’t take away pain that would last forever…or at least until she deemed fit to use the undetected metal device in her pocket.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage our valedictorian, Miss Melanie Chappell!”

The numbness wore off as she realized Principal Jeff Nygard’s voice summoning her to the podium. She just then remembered she was at a graduation ceremony. It took too long for the applause to register in her mind. Even the fancy purple and green colors of Principal Nygard’s wizard-like robe blended in with the rest of Melanie’s pitch black world.

High heels aside, Melanie’s legs nearly buckled underneath her as she staggered to the podium. Going back to bed was better than listening to these claps, which sounded too much for her comfort like repetitive gunfire from an AR-15. Instead of cycling through what she was supposed to say, she contemplated what the acronym AR stood for. Asshole Redneck? Aryan Race? Ammosexual Romance? She would have smiled at that last one if she didn’t nearly fall over the podium. Luckily, Principal Nygard’s hands were there to catch her.

“I’m okay,” she unconvincingly whispered to Nygard.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m fine…at least I think so.”

As Principal Nygard took his seat at the back of the stage, the concerned faces of graduating classmates washed over her war-like mind. While gunshots and blood splatters still smashed her mind into fragments, she believed the students’ reactions to be underwhelming for what had just happened a month ago. Had it really been a month? Or was it five seconds ago? Who gives a fuck, it’s never really over, she thought to herself.

Melanie attempted to adjust the microphone to her mouth and did so poorly. She stalled for time with a few halfhearted coughs. When time became a bigger enemy to her than the incel with the gun, she wiped away a singular tear and tried her damnedest to speak.

“Thank you all for coming out here today.” God, that sounded stupid, she thought. “I, uh…I know you all…this isn’t the end of…” Tears splashed around her eyeballs as she struggled to compose herself. Fuck it, I’ll go with it.

“A month ago, something awful happened at our school. I won’t go into the specifics of it since it’s fresh enough in everyone’s minds as it is. Many of our classmates died that day. Their families will never get to see them achieve greatness. Never see them smile again. Never erase those memories from their minds. And…while we can all agree to come together and give each other comfort and strength…not everyone on the internet sees it that way. In fact, there’s a…disgusting hashtag going around social media called The Sadness Olympics. It’s used by trolls who want to mock what we’ve been through, to protect their so-called second amendment rights, to…to…”

Melanie’s words became scrambled as silent tears dropped from her eyes like waterfalls. She could feel Principal Nygard’s hand on her shoulder, a sign of the comfort she spoke of before the most disgusting hashtag on the internet left her mouth. Jeff whispered, “If you need to leave the stage, you have my permission.”

“No! No…I’ve got this, Mr. Nygard. I’ve got this….”

Once he sat back down among all the other wizard-robe-wearing faculty members, rage bubbled from beneath Melanie’s skin like a murky, venomous swamp. Despite the tears rolling down her face, her expression said, “Do not fuck with me!” without those words actually coming off of her tongue.

“To whoever’s circulating that hashtag, I’ve got a message for you,” said Melanie. “You’re every bit as evil as the gunman who came to our school. You may not have pulled the trigger, but make no mistake about it, you’re a murderer!”

“Miss Chappell, please!” begged Principal Nygard.

“Shut up! I told you I’ve got this!” The whole auditorium along with the school Principal fell silent. “The fact that people think our suffering, my suffering is funny makes me sick to my stomach. People like that are the whole reason our country is going to shit.”

As the audience gasped at the swear word, Principal Nygard spoke up once again. “Miss Chappell, that’s enough! Please leave the stage, if not for us, then for your own benefit!”

“I told you I’ve got this, Mr. Nygard, now sit down and shut up! It’s what you do best!” His face grew red with embarrassment while his jaw nearly touched his lap. Melanie’s silver-tongued rhetoric continued. “The only thing that makes me sicker than that hashtag is the fact that it’s being used by some of our own students, many of whom are here today! I see you out there! You think this is comedy? Fine! You can laugh while your guts are spilling out of your body! You can literally laugh your head off as a bullet passes through it!

“And now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn’t be so mad that a shooter came to our school with a AR-15 or whatever the fuck it’s called! Hell, I would have come in with an army tank if I knew where to find one! I’d still be traumatized! I’d still wake up in the middle of the night trying to recover from a shitty dream! But you know what? If it means you hashtag warriors, you Sadness Olympics comedians, will get what’s coming to you, it’d be worth taking Xanax for the rest of my life! I can’t even afford it since it’s a controlled substance, but if Principal Nygard has taught me anything, it’s that it’s all in my head, a head which should be filled with ‘thoughts and prayers’, by the way!”

The students gasped once again as Nygard’s tone grew more serious. “One more outburst from you, Miss Chappell, and I’ll withhold your diploma! No more of this nonsense, you understand me?!”

Suddenly calming down, Melanie turned around to face her Principal with dewy eyes and a neon pink face. “Yeah…yeah, I understand, Mr. Nygard. I really shouldn’t have gotten off track like that. Sorry. I forgot we were supposed to be taking away each other’s pain, not shuffling it around.”

Facing the students again and adjusting the microphone nervously, Melanie’s streak of calmness continued. “Truth is, I don’t really have a solution to your traumas. I don’t even have a solution for my own. I don’t really know if we’re going to have another school shooting or not. I don’t know if we’re going to get more from our government than so-called ‘thoughts and prayers’.

“But one thing I do know…is that I don’t want any part of this. The graduation ceremony, the diploma, the college debt I’ll rack up…it’s all for nothing if my nightmares won’t leave me alone for even a few seconds. It’s all for nothing if internet trolls are just going to keep cracking jokes about us. So you know what I say? Before another horny incel has the chance to gun me down…I’ll strike first.”

In one swift motion, Melanie pulled a pistol out of her pocket and blew her own brains out, sending one final message to her fellow classmates. A message that hope is only an illusion, comedy isn’t fun anymore, and “thoughts and prayers” is just a phrase as empty as Melanie’s exploded skull. She could have sworn she heard screams everywhere around her, but only for a few seconds before her body went completely limp. What’s one more trauma to these people, right?

Incelbordination, Chapter 22

Now that Oswald’s eyes had been wrung completely dry and his heart was shattered and glued back together multiple times, the final piece of the puzzle involved the bouquet of roses he cradled in his little arms. Where Tuomas Magnus had none, somebody else would inherit these fragrant, gorgeous red roses. Oswald took an extra sniff of them as if to mask the sadness crippling him from the inside. By the time he made it to the graveyard, somebody was already there paying tribute.

Kneeling and praying over Jessica Bradley’s grave was a redheaded woman who looked old enough to be her sister. Whoever she was, she delicately laid a Disney tapestry over the gravestone to go with the rest of the flowers mourners had sent. Jessica loved Disney movies. The Mickey Mouse heads on the tapestry were a lovely touch. The tears in this mystery woman’s eyes hydrated the grass beneath while her sobs were only heard by the most delicate ears.

The woman turned around and wiped the wetness from her face. “Sorry, I didn’t see you back there until now.”

“No problem,” said Oswald with a face longer than his body. He limped over to Jessica’s grave and gently laid his bouquet of roses underneath the Mickey Mouse tapestry. The little guy sighed as he tried to suppress his tears, though they wouldn’t be completely out of place in a setting like this.

“So…how did you know my sister?” asked the young lady.

Not wanting to let on how they actually met, Oswald said in his most genuine tone, “We were friends. She taught me how to come out of my shell.”

The woman smiled as she wiped her face yet again. “I wish people would remember her for that instead of what she had to go through. It’s not her fault at all. I just…I just wish I could have done something about it.”

At the risk of being unfairly labeled a perv, Oswald made the first move when he placed his hand on the sister’s shoulder. “Whatever happened between you and Jessica, it’s not your fault.”

The sister gave an alarmed look at Oswald’s hand, but not for the reason the little guy thought. “What happened to your knuckles?”

“It’s a long story, one that I’m not quite ready to tell just yet. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you and your sister. I came here to pay my respects. I just wish there were more roses surrounding her grave.”

Without warning, the sister hugged Oswald and soaked his shoulders with an even greater abundance of tears. Being overwhelmed by all of this emotion wore off eventually when Oswald hugged her back. He wasn’t about to get into the semantics of hugging a complete stranger when he himself just came from a cuddle therapy session with someone named Kristen Jealous.

Once the sorrowful embrace broke, the sister said, “Sorry, where are my manners? My name is Sarah-Jane.”

“I’m Oswald. Nice to meet you.”

Sarah-Jane smiled as the two of them shook hands. “That’s an unusual name.”

“My full name is Oswald Roman Crow. My initials spell ORC.”

Sarah-Jane giggled. “That’s funny. My mom’s name is also Sarah-Jane, but her maiden name was Walter. So her initials used to spell SJW.”

The two of them shared a laugh together and hugged once again. “You see this?” said Oswald. “This is what life should be about: two people sharing a laugh and having fun together.”

“I could have told you that. I just wish I could have told Jessica that before she decided to…do what she did. I don’t think she ever got enough love back home. Heh, if that’s not the understatement of the year, I don’t know what the hell is.”

Knowing that the waters were properly tested, Oswald took his affectionate ways a step further by squeezing Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. This was so well received that she turned around and sat on her butt to get the full effect of the shoulder rub. “It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these. Are you sure your hands aren’t hurting? Those knuckles look like…”

Cutting her off, Oswald said, “It’s alright, I swear. My fists have been through worse.”

“Really now?” asked Sarah-Jane. “Seriously, what happened to your fists? I know you said this trip was all about Jessica and all, but I legitimately want to know.”

Oswald sighed and tucked his head, but never stopped squeezing Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. “I don’t even remember how long ago this happened, but there was a terrorist attack on campus. I’m sure you probably heard about it in the media and hopefully secondhand information is all you have. I experienced this shit firsthand. The reason I have scarred knuckles is because I punched down a glass door to rescue someone. She swears I’m a hero, but I don’t feel like one right now. Some days I feel like I’ve done more harm than good.”

“Risking your life to save someone else’s doesn’t sound very cowardly to me. I think you should get a medal just for that.”

The little guy stopped the massage and patted Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. “They don’t give out medals to people who are unfairly suspected of being part of the group that attacked our school.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Sarah-Jane spun around and tenderly gripped Oswald’s shoulders. “The fact that you came by to leave roses on my sister’s grave is honorable enough on its own. Society doesn’t normally give two shits about teenage prostitutes. They’re all about saving the children, but when they need help the most, society turns their backs. So much for law and order.”

“Why do you blame yourself for your sister’s death?”

“Because I don’t even live in this city. I live a few counties over and…” The tears returned. “I didn’t even know what was happening to her. I had a career of my own, but I couldn’t even find the time to pick up the damn phone and send her a text message? I could have saved her, Oswald. If I didn’t live so far away…”

Oswald placed a fingertip on Sarah-Jane’s lips and said, “Enough. Like you said, you didn’t even know what was going on with her until now. There was nothing you could have done. There was nothing I or anybody else could have done either. If you want justice for her, then use your voice. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true. It took me a while to learn that and I’m still slowly learning more about it…but if you want someone to help you with this…I’m here for you.”

“You just met me a few minutes ago, Oswald. How can you possibly want to help me now?”

“Because…if I do nothing, then things will only get worse. I’ve played the role of bystander and I’ve also played the role of fuck-up. I want to do good things with my life from now on and if that means helping you through this dark time, then so be it.”

Sarah-Jane cupped Oswald’s face in her hands. “You’re a sweet guy. I don’t know you that well, but you’re a sweet guy. And you’re a teddy bear, too.”

The two of them smiled while Oswald’s face reddened at the teddy bear comment. Their faces were only inches away from each other. It only seemed right. Was Oswald ready to make that next move or would this be considered too desperate? Could he do the unthinkable and…kiss her? The thought made his hands sweat and his throat dry. This woman was hurting enough as it was. He didn’t need to make things worse with a kiss. But then Sarah-Jane pulled her face even closer and…

“Oh-ho-ho-ho….he-he-he…ha-ha-ha…and I thought MY jokes were bad,” said a familiar husky voice as a behemoth of a man cast his shadow over Oswald and Sarah-Jane, completely breaking up their loving moment.

Miss Bradley’s breathing quickened while Oswald’s was deeper and hoarser. The little guy clenched his fists, furrowed his brows, and tightened his teeth. “Wacey…this is neither the time nor the place for your sick and twisted bullshit. We’re in a graveyard, for shit’s sake!”

“Oh, I think this is the perfect time and place for this, little guy. We ARE in a graveyard. The only thing that’s missing is a tombstone with your name on it. Who knows? Maybe I’ll carve one for your newfound girlfriend over here.”

My Child

VERSE 1

If I allowed you to be born in this world

Your hate for me would come full circle

I’d give you the genes, the mental disease

You would murder yourself to be set free

Ripping the stitches after life-saving surgery

Someone stole your soul, an act of burglary

A never-ending cycle of psychological torture

Another week to live is what the doctor orders

VERSE 2

If I allowed you to be born on this earth

You’d be considered a criminal by virtue of birth

Bullied by the worst kinds of scum in school

Fired by the bosses with their autocratic rule

Beaten by the cowards in the dingiest prison

Until darkness becomes your only true vision

I couldn’t put you through any of that shit

Another reason to never have my own kid

BRIDGE

My child, my son, my daughter, my young

Punished for the crime of not holding your tongue

Punished for the crime of not breaking down

Punished for wanting to drown out the sounds

Of the voices telling you you’re not good enough

That surviving this world is for the macho and tough

I can’t raise you in an environment such as this

Time to say goodnight with a forehead kiss

VERSE 3

My only children have fur on their bodies

My only children bark for a piece of salami

My only children meow for a can of tuna fish

My only children drink from a paw print dish

My only children don’t need to go to college

To pay off their debts by emptying their wallets

To answer to the police for doing nothing wrong

Just listen to this purr baby’s mechanical song