Heath Riggs the Clumsy Cowboy

 The sum’bitch who said hanging on isn’t a good thing never had to worry about their equilibrium over a mud pit. Have you ever tried to wash mud and pig shit off of clothing with nothing but a Tide Pod and a spinning machine? Neither of those stains are coming out without a fight. But it was a battle that Heath Riggs was not prepared or willing to fight. When I was contacted on Deviant Art in early 2011 for an RP request, I figured it would be some nice D&D fun with orcs chopping off elves’ heads and gnomes picking the pockets of arrogant kings who sat their asses on purple cushions. Unfortunately, it turned out to be anything but.

My recollection of this particular role-playing session is fuzzy at best, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I don’t remember this woman’s name nor do I remember the name of her character. No, I’m not just protecting her identity, I seriously don’t remember. All I know was that she was so adamant about me getting a Yahoo Messenger account so that we could do this in real time instead of posting it as messages on a board somewhere. 

Without coming off as rude, she did have a bit of an aggressive streak when it came to asking for this role-play. She MUST know when I’m available to play. She MUST know how she can reach me. She MUST know why I’m having trouble accessing a Yahoo account I haven’t touched since the W administration. Red flag city, here I come. Come to think of it, I do believe there is a place where red flags are prominent. John Cena knows of this place since he had to apologize to their government for calling Taiwan a country.

So what was the premise of this role-play that the mysterious woman was so desperate to get out of me? What could possibly be so important to require my writing skills and RPG knowledge? Is it a trip to outer space to shoot lasers at aliens? Is it a dungeon crawl that involves throwing axes and shooting arrows at fire-breathing dragons? Is it a wrestling RPG where Triple H is serving up sledgehammer shots and graveyard burials like he didn’t steal the latter gimmick from The Undertaker? No, no, no, not even close. She wanted this role-play to take place on a cattle ranch. She was the farm girl, I was the cowboy known as Heath Riggs. Why Heath Riggs? Because I chose it and she was okay with it. Heath reminded her of Heath Ledger’s role in Brokeback Mountain and Riggs reminded her of pickup trucks in the rural area in which the RPG took place.

Unfortunately, Heath Riggs’s name was the only badass thing about him. As the newest cowboy at the farm girl’s ranch, he came off as awkward to be in conversations with. Okay, not so bad just yet. I’m an awkward conversationalist in real life, so it’s bound to come out in my role-playing of Heath’s character. He and the farm girl talked about his newbie status. They talked about his past employment. They talked about his past relationships. They talked about how this totally ranks low on the weirdest experiences Heath has ever had. I don’t have a script with me, so this is the best I can do as far as show don’t tell goes. Pretty mundane stuff in the lives of socially weird people. Not exciting at all. The cowboy in question wasn’t of the Sergio Leone variety. He was just a guy who fiddle-fucked around with the animals.

And then…from out of nowhere…my role-playing partner decides that Heath Riggs will slip on a puddle of mud and pig shit and get his clothes stained beyond recognition. I didn’t decide it. She did. Her character laughed like she just watched an episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos. Come to think of it, if this happened in real life, it would probably take home the grand prize on that show. Maybe with the winning purse, Heath wouldn’t have to work at a mediocre ranch anymore! But until then…another slip in the mud (which sounds like a Pink Floyd song if they played country instead of classic rock). And another. And another. And another. Heath looked like his candy bar namesake, but less appetizing. Nobody would be eating him that afternoon, least of all the giggling farm girl.

Obviously, I wasn’t having a good time in this RP. I almost fell asleep on multiple occasions. My butt was numb. My jaw was clenched tightly. I needed to get the hell out of that Yahoo chat room. I finally told the woman that I had to get going for the day and secretly hoped she wouldn’t chew me out over it. She was aggressive enough in getting me to role-play with her in the first place, so why wouldn’t she be possessive over my spare time like an obsessed yandere? But to my surprise, she was understanding. We said our goodbyes in a way that was just as uneventful as it would have been for Heath Riggs and the nameless farm girl.

Now…one thing you need to understand about me is that I had and still to an extent have a hard time saying no to people when I’m feeling uncomfortable. It could be a trauma response, but agreeing to unsavory conditions to keep the peace was what I did best back in 2011. I was never prepared to deal with getting yelled at or being made to look like the bad guy for standing up for myself. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up and keeping friendships was too important to me, even if they weren’t healthy ones. Even as I type this, I realize that I’d rather be lonely than share a space with toxic people. The woman in question wasn’t what I’d consider toxic, but I did have qualms about telling her that the RP wasn’t working out. I ghosted her for weeks on end. I didn’t go anywhere near Yahoo Messenger.

I dreaded the day when she would eventually contact me on Deviant Art and ask me where the hell I was. I knew it was coming. I knew I couldn’t get through 2011 without having to face that day. So when she finally asked where I was, I took a chance. I told her the RP wasn’t working out for me. I told her that I preferred fast-paced adventures like the D&D campaigns promised. I told her that it wasn’t anything against her. I told her that Heath Riggs’s clumsy cowboy gimmick was boring me to tears. I was expecting to get chewed out like a wad of bubblegum. I was expecting to look more villainous than Voldemort and Dolores Umbridge put together.

But instead…she understood where I was coming from. No grudge. No backlash. No venom of any kind. She understood and it was okay with her that I didn’t want to continue. I gave her a digital hug and the two of us went our separate ways. The name Heath Riggs would eventually be recycled into a debt collector character in a cyberpunk short story who went on a local news show to spill industry secrets and make the pervy anchor look like a buffoon on live TV. There was no real reason for him to be named Heath Riggs other than the fact that it sounded cool. There was no Brokeback Mountain reference. There was no need for an eighteen-wheeler. Just a guy named Heath who betrayed the debt-collection industry by exposing their greatest weaknesses. At least Heath didn’t slip in pig shit this time, although, one would argue that the news anchor more than qualified for the role of pig shit.

The lesson of the day, my young grasshoppers, is to speak up when you’re uncomfortable. It takes a lot of bravery to do in the face of kind people. It takes even more bravery to do it in the presence of your family and friends. But if they don’t know, then nothing will change. Yes, you may be labeled a villain for saying no. But the bigger question is, why isn’t the other person a villain for forcing you into a situation you don’t want to be in? You’re chaotic neutral at worst, but the pushy bastards who want to keep you under their thumb are fifty shades of lawful evil. 

You can wear the dark cloak, but they can wear the QAnon shaman furs. And besides, what’s the worst that could happen to you for playing the role of villain? You’ll have fewer friends, sure, but being on your own is better than being surrounded by toxic assholes. At least you’re good company. At least the darkness of your solitude will give you some cool rumination. A toxic asshole will give you trauma and heartache, neither of which are worth retaining for their comfort.

This is a lesson I have yet to learn myself even though I’m preaching it like a mega-church wing-nut. I haven’t prepared myself for ultimate loneliness. Maybe it’s something I should talk with a therapist about. Maybe when I do, I can bring up the Heath Riggs example as to why it’s beneficial for me to stand up for myself. For some toxic people, I’m risking not only a lack of friendship, but sometimes a beating and ridicule. You know what? Put me in the ICU for all I care. I’ll get the best medical treatment I’ve ever had while you’re rotting in a prison cell. As it turns out, taking toxicity too far is fucking illegal. I’m not worth going to prison over, no matter who you are. You think losing my friendship is lonely for you? Prison is lonelier. It lasts longer, too. So, bring it on, world!

Dirty Laundry

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to another episode of Beneath the Surface. I am your host, Aaron Moore. Tonight we’ve got a special treat for you. It’s no secret how Dread City’s debt crisis has ravaged our poor and working class population. Many of our citizens are losing their homes, their jobs, and in many cases, their families due to not being able to pay their debts on time. Here to expose the secrets of this little known debt industry is a man who wishes to be known by the pseudonym Heath Riggs. Heath, welcome to the show.”

“Good to be here, Aaron.”

Heath parked his ass at a dimly lit studio table across from his host, while live cameras filmed the interview from every angle behind the shadows. Aaron Moore clearly enjoyed the spotlight as evidenced by the fancy gray suit and tie he wore just for this occasion. Heath Riggs, on the other hand, thrived in anonymity, his black leather jacket, sunglasses, and hood covering everything but his black face driving the point home. While Aaron leaned his body in to ask the tough questions, Heath kicked back with his fingers in a triangle position and his heel across his lap.

“Now Heath, I want to start off by addressing with you the harassing ways in which debts are collected. The late night phone calls, the vulgar speech, the contacting of family, friends, and coworkers. By your own admission, these tactics should be illegal, yet debt collection companies get away with this all the time.”

Heath cleared his throat. “Well, you’re right about the fact that these tactics should be illegal. If they came from anybody other than a collector, the police would be called in a heartbeat. But the funny thing is, the harassment doesn’t actually get us our money faster. Then again, neither does the impending lawsuit and the subsequent garnishing of wages. This isn’t about collecting money we’ll never have. It’s politics. It’s all about weeding out the poor and disenfranchised so that they can’t influence our governmental policies. It’s not a conspiracy. This shit’s as real as it gets.”

Aaron, who was drinking a mug of hot coffee during Heath’s answer, spit out his beverage and choked on whatever was left. After wiping his mouth with his expensive sleeve, he said, “Mr. Riggs, I appreciate your honesty during this interview, but I have to ask you not to swear when giving your answers. We’re on live television in over a million homes. Surely, you understand.”

“Of course I do.” Heath grinned like he was onto something. “Wouldn’t want to offend your audience’s precious Christian ears. Wouldn’t want the children to hear any of this shit. Lord knows they might grow up to become free thinkers. We know that can never happen.”

“I’m warning you, Mr. Riggs….”

Taking his sunglasses off and revealing gray mechanical eyes underneath, Heath said, “Don’t worry, Aaron, I got the message loud and clear. You can’t swear on television, but if you do it behind closed doors with an unwilling secretary, it’s A-okay. I’m not just exposing the debt industries secrets, but yours as well. I agreed to do this interview because I want a clear conscience. Fourteen years of debt collecting began to wear on my soul after a while. I figured, as long as I’m here with an alleged sexual harasser, I might as well go the full nine, you know what I’m saying?”

“Cut the camera feed! Cut it now!” demanded Aaron. Without checking to see if his orders were followed, he leaned in closer to Heath’s face and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I don’t know what kind of stunt you’re trying to pull, but you have no proof and neither do any of my accusers. Those cases were settled a long time ago. Now do you want to discuss debt collection or do you want to keep toying with me?”

“Why can’t he talk about both? It’s not like you two don’t deserve last words,” said a robotic feminine voice from the shadowy background. While Heath remained calm, cool, and collected, Aaron went bug-eyed and his body trembled at the sight of a cyborg assassin holding two severed heads by the hair like they were cheerleader pompoms. As soon as this mysterious woman stepped into the light, headless bodies all around the studio dropped to the ground and soaked the wooden floors in human blood and cyborg oil. A bald black woman with golden earrings and a green metal suit stared her newest victims down with a mischievous grin.

While Aaron curled up in a ball on the edge of pissing himself, the assassin said, “Don’t worry, honey. None of what you or Heath said made it on the airwaves. I made sure of that. It’s probably just as well. Although, if you want to tell your mindless viewers goodbye for one last time, I suppose I could let you do that.”

“Please…I don’t know who you are, but I’ve got a family I need to get home to. Don’t kill me! Please don’t kill me!” quivered Aaron while Heath smiled and shook his head.

“It’s the same old excuse: think of my family so that I don’t have to when I’m trying to take the secretary to pound town. Don’t worry, Aaron, I’ve got this.” Heath cracked his knuckles before getting out of his chair and strutting towards the assassin, who tossed the cameramen’s heads off to the side like they were easily disposable to begin with.

“What are you so cocky about, Mr. Riggs? You’re not making it out alive any more than Hard-On Henry over here. In fact, you’re the reason I came here today,” said the assassin with a grin.

Heath gazed his assailant up and down and whistled. “That’s some expensive hardware you’ve got there. How much did them arm blades set you back? Hundreds? Thousands of dollars? And that metal body? Shit, man, I don’t know how you pay for all that with just a Street Ronin’s salary. If only there was somebody here who knew how to make debt disappear quicker than those cameramen you laid out. Hmm…” Heath stroked his chin as he mockingly pondered this question.

The assassin flipped one of her arm blades and held it underneath Heath’s chin. He didn’t back down from his confident demeanor, but he was all ears for his would-be killer. “When you’re as good as me, money isn’t that hard to come by. I don’t know what kind of lies you’re telling about my client, but these poor suckers don’t go into debt because of politics. They do it because they could never make it in a capitalist meritocracy. That’s my special way of saying they’re fucking lazy.”

“Sure, whatever you say…Harlock!”

Upon hearing the assassin’s name, Aaron slowly lowered his feet to the bloody floor, obviously not caring that much about his designer shoes. “Wait a minute, you know this woman?”

“Not as well as I’d like to, but when you’ve been on the job as long as I have, you learn something about these poor pathetic motherfuckers. The boss man gives you a name, an address, and how much they owe. The rest of the research is up to you, hence why we often resort to calling friends and family to collect the debt. Harlock here doesn’t care about the circumstances of others, which is ironic considering those cyborg parts didn’t come easy in this so-called meritocracy. Besides, if she was really as hot shit as she thinks she is, she wouldn’t have revealed all this information to me. We’d both be dead as fucking fried chicken right now. But as it is…”

“Shut the hell up!” said Harlock as she drew a tiny droplet of blood from Heath’s cheek. He still didn’t budge, only smiled wider as he cleaned the wound off with his finger and licked it.

“Face it, lady,” said Heath. “You don’t want to admit it, but you can see the irony of a debt-burdened assassin working for a debt collection agency. You’re desperate for cash, so you’ll whore your services to anybody who can make shit go away. But the truth is…paying those suckers off ain’t going to solve everything. You would not believe the tricks they pull out of their asses just to keep you paying up. Ever heard of zombie debt? How about fifty percent interest? How about debtor’s prison? They still have that shit.”

Harlock narrowed her bladed eyebrows and dug the weapon deeper into Heath’s skin. He flinched a little bit, but not enough to give away whatever modicum of fear he might have been burdened with. She leaned in and said, “You know nothing about me and my struggles.”

“Exactly! Debt collectors don’t know shit about you, which is why they keep calling your ass in the first place! You could come crying to them with your whole life story and it wouldn’t be enough. They got no heart. They got no soul. If a big ass mega corporation had a heart and soul, they wouldn’t be in business for very long, would they? Capitalism is a bitch.”

Harlock’s eyes slowly lowered to the soggy floor as if Heath’s words got through to her. He took this small window of opportunity to grab her by the arm and swing her blade into her own stomach. While Aaron was in the background this whole time shivering and weeping, Harlock’s mechanical guts spilled all over the ground as she coughed up oil and blood. Heath yanked the blade upwards and split the rest of her upper body in two, bloodying the floor even more than it already was.

“What the hell did you do that for?! She was cooperating!” Aaron screamed.

“Recognizing how badly you’ve fucked up isn’t a Get Out of Jail Free card. In case you hadn’t noticed what’s been going on here the past few seconds, look on the ground. That bitch is beyond redemption. Speaking of which, let’s get them cameras rolling again…”

“No! No cameras! No! I’m done with this!”

“Oh, we’re just getting started, Aaron. We’ve got a lot to discuss. Debt collection and sexual harassment all in one story, although that piss stain on your pants will be bigger ratings boost than anything we talk about.”

Aaron spread his shaky legs to see that there was indeed urine on his groin. “Goddamn it!”

Heath shushed him. “Ah, ah, ah! No swearing! There’re children watching!”