Incelbordination, Final Chapter

The Patron Saint of Involuntary Celibacy chased Valerie Sand down the empty streets, his breath becoming hungrier and hornier as he got closer to the bare-legged beauty. Every step led her into a nyctophobic nightmare while Antero Magnus grinned with fanged teeth at the loveliness of it all. He could smell her cold sweat and it was more intoxicating to him than any high-end perfume. Just like in true horror movie fashion, Valerie banged her knee against a light post and crumpled to the ground sobbing.

Antero’s Cheshire Cat grin widened as he savored this moment with slow, deliberate steps. Oh, what he wanted to do to this unfortunate victim. Where would his hands explore first? Her smooth legs? Her lovely feet? Her ample breasts? The buffet-like possibilities gave him a tingling sensation in his ball sack. “So beautiful, Ms. Sand…now you’re going to share that beauty with me whether you want to or not.” Even with tears raining down Valerie’s face, Antero saw no qualms about leaning in for what would surely be a passionate kiss. And then…

“Who are you calling beautiful?!” shouted a gruff voice that awakened Antero from his dream. The horny dream allowed him a temporary vacation from his real nightmare: a dark prison cell with a hairy muscle freak lying in the upper bunk bed. The terrorist took a while to catch his breath and dry his cold sweat. He even felt the scar across his face to see if it had scabbed and it did. Rough ridges of dried blood decorated his already creepy visage.

Antero’s cell mate leaned over the bunk bed and scowled at him, his hairy tattooed face a mosaic of true terror. “You must be having another one of your wet dreams. You keep that shit up and I’ll make sure you won’t be involuntarily celibate anymore! I’ve been looking for an excuse to jump you and now I might have found it.”

“Yeah, get yourself locked up in solitary. Great idea, champ,” scoffed Antero as he laid on his back with his hands behind his head.

The hairy beast laughed his ass off in a throaty, barbaric voice. “You really think these guards give a shit what happens to you in here? I could butt fuck you until your intestines fall out and nobody would come to your rescue. This ain’t no PC liberal-ass college campus, buddy. This is the big house.”

Antero swallowed a lump of saliva and feigned bravery when he said, “You’d better knock that shit off. I used to lead…”

“You used to lead what? A bunch of horny losers who are pissed off about not getting laid? Is that supposed to mean something to me?!” The cell mate jumped out of bed and stood over Antero with heavy breathing bouncing his colossal chest up and down. The incel leader backed up a little bit even though he was in the bottom bunk and had nowhere to go. “That pretty little mouth of yours doesn’t know when to shut up. It’s like it’s got a mind of its own. Why don’t you put that mouth to better use?”

The prisoner dropped his pants and underwear to reveal a forest of greasy hair underneath. Antero intentionally shielded his eyes so that he didn’t have to see what redwood that forest was hiding. He didn’t get much of a choice after that when the cell mate clutched Antero’s jaw and caused him to thrash around in the vice-like grip. “Shut the fuck up and stop moving around!” shouted the cell mate, orders which Antero blatantly ignored as he yelled for help.

“Like I said, nobody’s coming to save you! All your horny faggot friends are getting some of what you’re about to get. All the guards are busy making sure you don’t get out. That just leaves you and me, buddy, you and me. We make a perfect couple, don’t you think? You can be my housewife. You can scrub my dishes. You can do my laundry. You can…”

Shuddering at the idea of what he was about to do, Antero reached for the prisoner’s erection and bent it with so much force that it snapped in two. The screams that erupted from his throat afterwards transformed this prison into a bear enclosure. Antero’s cyan eyes lit up with psychosis as he watched his cell mate drop to his knees while clutching his broken junk.

The terrorist got out of bed and stood over his foe with a disgusted scowl. “You see this? This is what involuntary celibacy is all about. This is what I used to preach to my followers. I bet you got a lot of ass during your time under lock and key. But now those days are over. They’re especially over after you get out and find a real woman. Oh wait, I forgot…no woman will never want to date you again!”

As Antero laughed like a crazed movie villain, the prisoner threw a punch aimed at his gut. The arm moved too slowly to make a connection as Antero grabbed the prisoner’s elbow and twisted the arm into a bone crunching submission hold. The incel leader’s expression dripped with lust while the prisoner begged for his life. “No more jerking off for you!” said Antero as he hyper-extended the arm with a resounding crunch.

The cell mate laid on the ground in a broken heap of screaming and snapped body parts. Just like in his wet dream, Antero’s nether regions came alive with electricity. “You think I’m just a horny kid who can’t get what he wants? I’m a man’s man. I always get what I want in the end. Incelbordination isn’t going anyway anytime soon just because I’m stuck here with you. We are everywhere. And you? Now that you’re guaranteed a life of celibacy…you’re just one of the boys!”

“Fuck you, pal!” shouted the defiant prisoner, who received a few kicks to the ribs for his efforts.

“You know what?” said Antero. “I’m done playing games with you. I used to know a guy who was just as pathetic as you are right now. His name was Oswald Crow and I thought there was something special about him. Well, I’m done with thinking anybody’s special, including you. It’s a shame since you’ve got a few feet over Oswald. You could have been one of the great all-time Incelbordinates. But no…you’re just another victim of the system!”

Antero grabbed the prisoner by his unkempt hair and dragged him to the toilet while making straining noises. As grimy as the terrorist’s fingers became, it would be a nothing compared to having shit water cover his hands while he held his opponent’s face in the bowl. The prisoner kicked and gurgled with whatever strength he had left, but Antero refused to let up and even allowed his own eyes to roll in the back of his head for extra psychosis. The harder the prisoner struggled, the tighter Antero’s teeth clamped down. And then…the struggle stopped and the prisoner was limp, his lungs and mouth full of disgusting toilet water.

Antero shoved the prisoner to the ground and stood over him triumphantly. Giving a speech to nobody in particular, he shouted, “You see this?! This is what your prison system produces! He came here looking for an outlet and now Satan is shoving a trident up his ass! Anybody else want some?! Are you ready to give me the woman I deserve?! Or do you just want to sit there and bleed like this moron?!”

The cell door flung open and revealed a squadron of pissed-off looking prison guards carrying batons and pounding them against their own palms. The captain gazed down at the prisoner and then narrowed his venomous eyes at Antero, who looked as though he was just caught masturbating. “What do you want on your tombstone, you little shit? I’m asking for an undertaker who wants to bury you next to Uncle Tuomas.”

“You want a quote? You want a fucking quote?!” asked Antero with extra psychosis in his voice, never once causing the guards to flinch. “I got one for you. It’s about damn time you showed up!”

“Fair enough,” said the captain before whacking Antero across the stomach with his club. The terrorist felt as though he was going to vomit himself inside out after such a blow. And then another baton shot caught him clean across the back of the head. And then a kick to the shoulder rendered him useless. And then repeated stomps to the sternum slowed his heart rate down to dangerous levels. The terrorist could feel his eyelids getting heavier than a grand piano while his crunching bones created a melody of beautiful music.

The beating eventually stopped and Antero was dragged out of his cell by his wrists, his body bloodied and broken while his mind drifted in and out of consciousness. He might have met his maker, he might not have. He could feel the devil’s trident entering his sensitive areas and he wasn’t even dead yet. Before that all important dinner date with Satan himself, he heard a nearby prisoner whispering something that put a smile on his face: “Death to Chads and Stacys!”

THE END?

Incelbordination, Chapter 23

“That’s right, Oz-Man. Wipe the tide pool from your eyes for just a few seconds. You can get back to crying like a bitch once I’m done showing you something. Don’t worry, this shit will be completely G-rated. Heh, the irony!”

Wacey Judge towered over his opponents just like he always did, a fire-breathing giant among shaky villagers. The lower half of his face was hidden with a skeleton bandana, a dam from the venom spewing from his lips. His hulking chest was covered in tactical gear while his gargantuan biceps remained visible for all to see.

One unzipping of his vest later and it became clear to the fire-eyed Oswald and the trembling Sarah-Jane what Wacey’s new agenda was all about. The black T-shirt that clung to his six-pack ever so tightly had the words written on it…Incel Pride Worldwide.

“I don’t fucking believe this,” muttered Oswald. “You? Of all people? An incel? You’re a fucking meat castle! You can have any woman you want! If anybody should be wearing that shirt, it’s…”

“It’s who? You?” asked Wacey while hunching over. “Sorry, little man, but they don’t make these at the Baby Gap. I earned this shirt. I never wanted it, but it’s mine anyways. You remember that little cheap shot you gave me to the balls that one day in the gym? Well, it’s hard to be anything but celibate with a bleeding dick! You ruined me, Oswald. You took everything you could from me all over a stupid fucking joke.”

Crossing his arms and maintaining his gorgon stare, Oswald said, “Joke? The only joke I see around here is the irony of you joining a group of people who tried to have you killed. You’re a bigger meathead than I thought! It makes me wonder how the fuck you got into college in the first place. If I had grades like yours, I’d hang myself!”

“You should hang yourself anyways, little brittle. It’d be less painful than the ass-ripping I’ve got planned for you. Every incel community needs a personal trainer. I’ve got what they want. They’ve got what I want. Incelbordination doesn’t want to kill me anymore because they understand me and I understand them. Or as you faggy liberals like to say, I embraced diversity!”

Oswald tried to approach Wacey for another five finger dick punch, but Sarah-Jane held him back and pleaded with him. “Come on, Oswald, don’t do this. Let’s just get out of here and call the police.”

“Yeah, that’s right! Run on home, little boy!” Wacey taunted. “If I don’t get you today, I’ll get you tomorrow. Or maybe one of my new buddies will. You ain’t going anywhere without getting your shit kicked in. We’re Incelbordination. We’re everywhere! And besides, if you run off, who’s going to stop me from wiping my ass with that Disney blanket over there?”

Sarah-Jane’s quivering fear morphed into silent rage when she slowly stood up and approached Wacey with chest-to-chest contact. “Listen, you bastard, I don’t give a damn what you do to me, but if you defile my sister’s grave in any way, I don’t care how many muscles you have, I’ll…”

“You’ll what? Give me Chlamydia? That’s pretty much the only chance you’ve got of getting laid anyways!”

“You motherfucker!” shouted Oswald as he limped towards his target with fists close to his face.

Wacey shoved Sarah-Jane to the floor and went on the attack, kicking the dwarf in his medical boot and crumpling him to the ground in agony. While Oswald screamed and clutched his leg, the meat castle leaned down and repeatedly slapped him upside the head. “Get up! Get up, goddamn it! This shit ain’t over yet!”

Sarah-Jane scrambled across the grass on her hands and knees and took a bite out of Wacey’s cannonball calf. The muscle head yelped in pain, but not before ripping the girl off by her hair and head butting her in the forehead. The eldest Bradley sister dropped to the ground limp as a noodle and dizzy as a rollercoaster rider.

Oswald reached his hand out and yelled Sarah-Jane’s name before Wacey continuously stomped on his surgically repaired foot. The dwarf’s eyes watered like a leaky faucet while his foot crumpled and caved in with every American History X stomp. After about eight strikes, the assault was mercifully over, though mercy was clearly the last thing on Wacey’s mind as his serpentine eyes gazed down upon his weeping and agonized foe.

The gym rat removed the bandana from his face and revealed a pool of foam gathering between his gritted, ursine teeth. “Those boxing skills aren’t helping you now, are they?” No response from the screaming Oswald, just tears and pain. Through his waterfall vision, he could still see Sarah-Jane slightly awake from her head butt. Her eyes widened when Wacey grabbed the Mickey Mouse tapestry on Jessica’s grave and did the butt floss with it.

“No! Put that down! Please!” begged Sarah-Jane, but poor taste prevailed when Wacey actually stuffed the tapestry down the back of his shorts and wiped his ass with it. He even threw it at the downed sister for good measure.

Oswald knew for certain this was how his story would end: laying in a pile of blood and tears with someone who shared his cataclysm of agony. He wouldn’t slay the demon. He wouldn’t get the girl. He wouldn’t have justice of any kind. The only way this could be worse for him was if it happened in a McDonald’s bathroom covered in shit and piss. Wacey growled at Oswald as he leaned down and raised his fist, prepared to do the honors of killing Incelbordination’s greatest foe.

“Wacey Everett Judge! Put your fucking hands in the air and turn around to face me!” shouted a familiar-sounding detective. “Do it or you’re getting a third nostril!” Slowly but surely, Wacey obeyed the instructions given to him by a shotgun-toting Mia Barry. Oswald would have smiled, but his face hurt worse than his foot from all the crying and screaming. “You think Incelbordination is everywhere? Well, so are we! Your fearless leader Antero left behind a digital footprint as big as your empty head!”

“I’ll leave a footprint right in your fucking skull, you little bitch!” shouted Wacey as he charged over to Mia knowing he had nothing left to lose. Sure enough, the suicide by cop was complete. Once Wacey got too close for comfort, Mia pulled the trigger on her shotgun and splattered the jock’s head all over Jessica’s grave and Oswald’s body. Wacey’s sculpted headless body plopped over and leaked all over the shit-stained Disney blanket.

Mia dropped her shotgun and cradled Oswald’s head in her lap. “I’m so glad I found you when I did.” She pulled out her radio and called for medical attention for both Oswald and Sarah-Jane. “Don’t worry, we’re going to get you fixed up.”

“My foot…my goddamn foot! It hurts!” moaned Oswald.

“Listen to me. It’ll be alright. I know you’re in a lot of pain, but there’s something else I need to tell you. You need to go into witness protection after your surgery.” The dwarf’s burning, watery eyes lit up like a neon sign at that revelation. “Incelbordination is going to keep hunting you down until they kill you. You were responsible for Antero’s downfall. That means they want blood. I’m sorry, Oswald. You can’t be here anymore. You’re going to have a new name, a new identity, and a new place to live.”

“No, you can’t take him away!” begged Sarah-Jane while tugging at Mia’s arm.

“It’s okay, Sarah-Jane, it’s okay!” insisted Oswald. “There’s nothing left for me to do here. This town can do without me. I’ll be alright no matter where I go. You know why? Because people like you make me believe that.”

“Are…are…are you sure?” wept the eldest Bradley sister.

“I’m positive,” said Oswald with a sad smile. “I can’t keep fighting Incelbordination forever. My foot can’t handle it. My body can’t handle it. My mind sure as shit can’t handle it. I swear I’ll be okay. You’ll be okay too. Everyone will be okay. You just have to trust Detective Barry. She knows what the hell she’s doing.”

A beat of uncomfortable silence hung between all three parties. And then Sarah-Jane leaned her face closer to Oswald and kissed his burning red forehead. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but… I want you to take that with you wherever they decide to put you. Thank you for everything, Oswald. I won’t forget you.”

“I won’t forget you either…I can’t even forget seeing a headless version of Wacey. No matter where I go, I will conquer. Fairytales don’t just tell us that dragons are real. They tell us that dragons can be beaten. I can do this…I believe in myself…I never though I’d hear myself say those words…”

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.”

Incelbordination, Chapter 21

The penultimate smack in the face for Oswald was being forced to go to therapy. The ultimate smack in the face was knowing it would affect his final grade in English if he didn’t. He must have read that email from Valerie Sand fifteen hundred times, but his fist-tightening anger didn’t subside any more than the first time. “Who the fuck does she think she is?” he wondered aloud as he swung his little feet in the computer chair. He took care not to pound his fists, for they were still healing slowly. He took one last look at his bruised knuckles and wondered when he would be able to punch the “Sand bag” again. “Therapy…I don’t fucking need therapy!” he huffed as he got dressed and exited the dorm.

The little guy still wore his medical boot and still had a modicum of pain shoot throughout his foot with each step, but the wincing and limping were minor prices to pay for his recovery. At least the therapist’s office wouldn’t be too far from here. But even so, it was still his longest trek due to how many people around him still had those ghostly expressions. Maybe they needed therapy too. Maybe they were already going to therapy and it didn’t do diddly-squat. Did they have their grades depend on this too or was Oswald the odd man out?

Oswald didn’t want to admit it at first, but when he first arrived at the therapist’s office, he was already comforted by the atmosphere around him. Harp music to relax his ears, receptionists talking in their best ASMR voices, paintings on the wall of gorgeous pink sunsets, and not one stereotypical “cray-cray” person sitting in the waiting room. “Good morning! How can I help you?” asked one of the receptionists with her sweetest smile.

“My name is Oswald Crow. I was told to come here by my English teacher Valerie Sand. She might have already scheduled an appointment for me, but I’m not sure.” Oswald just then figured out how much venom was oozing from his mouth as he spoke those words. It must have been like talking to a spitting cobra for this poor young lady behind the desk.

Nonetheless, she typed away at her computer and never once lost her gentle disposition. “Okay, Oswald, I’ll let Dr. Jealous know you’re here. Take a seat in the waiting room anywhere you like.”

“Thank you.” The waiting area wasn’t exactly packed to the brim with traumatized patients, but even so it was hard for Oswald to pick a seat without getting in someone’s personal space. This was his strategy all throughout high school and college: pick a seat completely isolated from the rest of the group. He could’ve sat next to the cute chick texting on her phone. He could’ve sat next to the fat guy in the Star Wars T-shirt enjoying a bag of Doritos. He could’ve sat next to the middle aged lady gazing languidly into the distance. So few options, yet he had to choose. Or did he?

“Oswald Crow?” said a gentle feminine voice, which caused the little guy to jump a little bit before clutching his pumping chest. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Kristen Jealous. I’ll be your therapist today.” She and Oswald shook hands. “Follow me into my office.”

Oswald couldn’t help but wonder why this lovely woman wasn’t wearing shoes. In fact, the sweat pants and Mickey Mouse sweatshirt didn’t exactly scream therapist from the mountaintop. Something was fishy about this whole setup and it all became clear once Oswald noticed a bed in the center of the room instead of a stereotypical leather couch. “What’s going on here?”

“Well, when Ms. Sand made your therapy appointment for you, she figured you could use this specific kind of treatment. Our session is going to last two hours and it’s going to be cuddle therapy.”

“C…cuddle therapy?”

Placing her soft hand on Oswald’s shoulder, Kristen said, “Yes. We’re going to cuddle for two hours and try to get you to open up. There’s one ground rule before we begin. This is a nonsexual activity, so any perverted comments or actions will result in the termination of this session. By that same token, the whole purpose of this treatment is to make you as comfortable as possible. If you don’t like something I’m doing, please let me know.”

“…C….C…Cuddle therapy?”

Kristen gave a closed-mouth giggle and said, “Don’t worry about a thing, Oswald. I’ll take good care of you. I know you’re nervous, but you don’t have to be. I promise you that this will be one hundred-percent safe. When we’re done, you’ll be nice and relaxed.”

“…O…Okay, um…”

Gently squeezing the back of his neck, Kristen said, “Do whatever you have to do to get comfortable and I’ll be waiting for you on the bed.” With a few more pats of the little guy’s shoulders, Dr. Jealous plopped down on the bed and patted Oswald’s half of the mattress.

Taking a few deep breaths, Oswald removed his T-shirt and footwear before hobbling to his side of the bed. He surprised himself by how easy it was to pull his body up without assistance. Maybe he was healing nicely after all. He rolled on his side with his back facing Dr. Jealous while the longhaired therapist pressed her body against his and ran her fingernails through his now spiked hair.

Any nervousness about this process and any ill will Oswald had towards Valerie Sand melted away when the tingling sensations ran through his scalp. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, already sinking into the bed.

“See? There’s nothing wrong with clean physical contact,” said Kristen while squeezing Oswald’s shoulders and spine. “Now, do you know why you’re here today?”

“Because my English teacher thinks I’m a fruitcake?”

“Couldn’t be further from the truth. Besides, I don’t like to use that word to describe my patients. It’s very derogatory.”

Oswald’s face reddened when he said, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I can understand your frustration. Your teacher tells me that you have a hard time letting people into your life, that you struggle with loneliness, that your loving needs aren’t being met.”

“Am I that obvious?” asked Oswald in a progressively relaxed voice. “People don’t like to be around me because of who I am and what I look like. They think I’m some kind of circus sideshow. I’ve even heard stories about drunken frat boys throwing my kind across bar counters for fun and games. I’m angry, Dr. Jealous. I don’t let people in because they’ll just stab me in the fucking heart.”

Transitioning into a waist hug, Kristen said, “While I do admit there are some guys in this world who think that way about people with dwarfism, it’s not the whole population. Most people are good to each other. Most people would look at someone like you and smile their friendliest smile. You might have to go out of your way to find these kindred spirits, but they exist and they’re waiting for you.”

“I’ve only found a handful of people on campus who fit that bill. Even then they don’t have any qualms about leaving my life and letting me rot.” A single tear rolled down Oswald’s face and Kristen wiped it away with her finger before working on his shoulders again.

“They leave your life because you don’t pursue them. Truth is, they’re probably hurting just as badly as you are. They don’t make the first move because they’re the ones who’re afraid of rejection, not you. I’ve had many patients come and go who had the exact same attitude towards social situations as you. They yearn for love of some kind, but they don’t pursue it because they’re afraid of getting their hearts broken.”

“They’re right to feel that way.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t feel that way about you,” said Kristen while resting her head against Oswald’s shoulder. “I know it’s my job to make my patients feel good about themselves, but I wouldn’t have this job in the first place if I didn’t feel some sort of empathy towards my clients. That’s kind of a requirement.”

Oswald smiled. “True.”

“You know…on the day you’re able to find a girlfriend, she’s going to want to cuddle with you a lot. She might even call you her little teddy bear. It’s not a knock against your dwarfism. It’s a celebration of cuteness.”

Oswald’s face glowed like a nuclear rod as he did his best to hide his smile.

Dr. Jealous continued, “I really do believe there’s somebody out there for you. Someone who you can share opinions with. Someone you can share moments with. It doesn’t even have to be someone romantic. It could just be a friend who cares about you. Friends can engage in physical contact too. That’s what I want you to think of me as: your friend. You can tell me anything you want.”

“…Anything?”

“Anything you want.”

Oswald didn’t even know where to begin. So many thoughts swirling his head and this was his one opportunity to get it all off his chest. It took him a while to come up with a launching point, but when he did, another tear rolled down his cheek. “I almost became an incel.”

“You what?”

Holding his thumb and forefinger together, he said, “I was this close to joining Incelbordination. I was lonely and scared. I didn’t think anybody in this world wanted me, so it only felt right to be a part of this. I wanted to hurt the world so badly. I wanted them to feel my pain and my agony. But…I didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. And now I have nothing to show for it.”

Wiping away more of Oswald’s tears with her fingers, Kristen said, “You do have something to show for it: wisdom. You’ve seen the worst side of humanity and you didn’t give in. You almost did as you’ve just said, but you overcame that. That alone takes courage. You’re a hero, Oswald. You can inspire people in a positive way if you so chose.”

“How? Nobody will listen to me and anybody that does just thinks of me as a walking C+.”

“C+ or no C+, you’re still going to graduate from this place one day. And when you do, all the pain and suffering will be worth it. College can oftentimes be a depressing experience, but for you, it can be an opportunity to grow into something greater than yourself. Your teachers don’t care about the grades you get as much as they care about the person you become once you leave their classrooms.”

“I somehow doubt that.”

“Doubt is a natural emotion, but not if it gets in the way of your greatest ambitions. I want you to be happy, Oswald. I want you to make friends, make love, and be the sweetest teddy bear you can be.”

Oswald’s tears turned into a full-on crying session and Kristen Jealous was there to hold him every step of the way. Scratching his back, rubbing his shoulders, playing with his hair, these things made crying a comfortable part of the process. For the first time in forever, the little guy felt secure. He felt loved. He didn’t want to leave the comfort of this room despite the fact that the session was only two hours long. “Why does this have to last for only two hours?” he sobbed aloud.

“Because I have other clients to see who need my help just as much as you do. Otherwise…I’d cuddle you for as long as you needed it. This doesn’t have to be our last session. In fact, I hope to see more of you in the future…you little teddy bear.”

“I love you.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Sorry…I’m really sorry about that.”

“Wasn’t the first time somebody told me that by accident. Won’t be the last either. You’re safe in my arms, Oswald. Cry as much as you want. Heal as much as you need to.”

The rest of the two hour session was spent doing those things: crying and healing. And it felt good to do that after so many years of loneliness and isolation.

Incelbordination, Chapter 20

Oswald Crow hated the man he saw in the mirror. He could forgive the fact that he had to stand on a footstool to see that image. He could forgive his own inability to attract women (despite his latest crush being married). He could forgive the idea that he’d caused all of his own worst problems. But the part that really made him stare bullets into the mirror…was his hair and his beard. He stroked his long, greasy locks with so much force that he damned near pulled out the follicles. He gripped his shaggy beard like he was making a fist, as if the thought of punching himself in the face was his greatest idea yet.

“No more…no more of this garbage…” he said with a menacing scowl. He gingerly stepped down from the footstool and put his medical boot back on. Walking had gotten a hell of a lot easier since his (hopefully) final encounter with Antero. He didn’t limp nearly as much and his speed had picked up just a little bit. All that was left was for him to find a better shirt to wear and out on the town he would go. How about Dark Side of the Moon T-shirt with prism, rainbow, and all?

When Oswald went for his trek downtown, he still played it safe and walked at a tender pace. Any residual pain he suffered in his foot was downplayed by one long glance around the misty city. A terrorist attack happened not too long ago and people still carried on with their daily lives. Some still shook with fear. Some still had the color drained from their faces. Some even shed a few tears. But even with all of this latent fear, Valerie’s prophecy came true: life went on. Oswald expected the results to be no different when he entered Two Bits Barber Shop.

But even for customer service standards, the barbers looked somewhat happy, just minding their own business and accumulating a pile of hair on the ground like nothing had happened. The blond lady at the service desk smiled a warm smile down at Oswald and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Do you take walk-ins?”

“We sure do. In fact, we have an opening right now if you’re ready.”

“Cool.”

“Can I get your name, please?”

“Oswald Crow.” He said his name with slight trepidation, as if it was as blasphemous to say as Jesus fucking Christ in a crowded mega church. But it turned out his name held no such weight in this strange barber shop. He wasn’t as big of a villain as he imagined himself to be.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the woman penciled his name in her schedule and never lost her happy expression. “Alright, Oswald, looks like I’ll be taking care of you today. My name is Callie. Do you need any help getting set up?”

“Nah, I’ve got this,” he said as he struggled to get into the barber’s chair. There were a few instances where he slipped and slid, much to the head shaking, hands-on-hips chagrin of Callie. She grabbed him by the hand and lifted him into the chair with minimal effort. “Guess I needed help after all.”

“You really shouldn’t be shy about accepting help from others. It’s what brings us all together,” said Callie while running her fingers through Oswald’s hair. “So what are we doing today?”

The little guy really didn’t think this one through. What would he look good with? A Mohawk? A high fade? A bald head? All he could muster up was a long, “Uh” and this got a giggle from Callie. She said, “How about if I surprise you with something? I think you’re going to like what I have in mind.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Oswald said, “Sure, why not?”

With that Callie got right to work on Oz-Man’s new hairstyle. Lots of spraying, lots of buzz-cutting, and lots of scissor snipping. There was enough hair on the ground to create another Oswald Crow and two Burmese kitties.

“So what do you do for a living?” asked Callie.

“I’m unemployed.”

“Oh,” said Callie with a twisted mouth and shifting eyes. “Okay.”

“I take that back. I’m a sex surrogate at a funeral home.”

The barber made a flat tire noise and shook her head at the joke. “See, that would have been a better response than saying you’re unemployed.”

“But it’s a lie.”

“Of course it was. I don’t think anybody here would willingly believe you get paid to do…that. The important thing here is that you have a sense of humor about it. Employers like that kind of thing. Granted, I wouldn’t use that particular joke, but you get the idea.”

“I don’t even know what I’m going to do once I get out of college.”

“Wait a minute, you’re in college? Why didn’t you say that when I asked you what you did for a living?”

“Because I don’t get paid for it. I’m the one making all the payments here.”

Patting Oz-Man’s shoulders, Callie said, “Listen, you don’t have to get paid in order to call something your profession. It could be something as simple as a hobby like building things or writing stories or carving soap.”

“Or sitting on my ass watching television.”

Callie let out a hearty laugh and struggled to compose herself. “Wow. You are something else, Oswald. On second thought, maybe being your delightful self is just what you need to land a job.”

He smiled, “I’m not as delightful as you think.”

“Oh really? Is that how you scared me off just now?” The little man didn’t have an answer for that except for a small sigh. “The fact that you’re willing to come in here and get a nice haircut shows me you care at least just a little bit what the world thinks of you.”

“Maybe I don’t care enough.”

“That’s something you need to find a balance with. You should care just enough to get your foot in the door and just little enough that you don’t lose yourself along the way. It takes work, but as a college student, you’re more than ready for it. I know it.”

Oswald kept quiet the rest of the time he was getting his haircut. Hating small talk aside, he didn’t want to get pieces of his locks in his mouth. He may have spit out a few strands here and there. But before he knew it, Oswald truly was a new man underneath all of that Wookie fur. The top of his head had short spikes, he had a low fade just underneath, and his beard was just short enough to not resemble an African jungle. The next time he looked in the mirror, he felt less and less like punching himself in the face. He ran his fingers through his remaining hair and said in a soft voice, “I look good.”

“You sure do,” said Callie with her sweet smile. “But we’re not done yet.”

As the barber walked away, a much taller presence in the form of a longhaired young man approached Oswald from the rear. At first the little guy swallowed a lump in his throat, thinking this guy was going to crush him with his massive hands. But instead the man with Damian on his nametag gently squeezed the tension out of Oswald’s shoulders and scalp. All the injuries, the bruises, and the cuts he received throughout his journey melted away from him like butter on popcorn. He could have transformed into a puddle right there on the chair.

No small talk, no frills, no gimmicks of any kind, just a gentle massage Oswald never knew he needed until then. He closed his eyes and allowed his healing mind to take him to faraway places. Tingles washed over his upper body. And then Damian grabbed little Oz-Man by the jaw and quickly twisted his neck in both directions. The crunching and popping noises echoed throughout the barbershop and managed to get a few stares from the customers. Oswald shook his jowls at the one second pain, but immediately relaxed again. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a massage and an adjustment.”

A smile etched on Damian’s pale face. “You should get them more often. It’s not unheard of for customers to come in here just for the massage.”

“Really?” Damian nodded. It took every ounce of strength in Oz-Man’s body (and assistance from Damian) to help himself down. He thought this could be a new treatment option for his mental illnesses, even if it only provided temporary relief. Maybe if he did it long enough…

He snapped back to reality when Callie ran his bill up for him. “That’ll be twenty dollars even.” Oswald pulled his wallet out and gave his barber and massage therapist an extra fifteen, but Callie waved the overpayment away. “We don’t accept tips here. We’re unionized, so we get paid well.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding. Just the twenty dollars will do. Plus, you’re going to need that extra fifteen dollars for Jessica Bradley’s roses.”

Oswald’s eyes widened. She knew about that? His name was public knowledge and she didn’t let on the entire time? Was he really a big celebrity? Or a social pariah? What the hell was going on?

“Have a nice day!” said Callie as she and Damian waved at him with smiles on their faces. Oswald left the twenty dollar bill on the counter and hightailed it out of there.

Incelbordination, Chapter 19

The stitches on Oswald’s foot were healing quite nicely. Not as much redness, not nearly as swollen as it once was, the pain was minimal at worst, yet he still felt the need to keep his medical boot on for a few more weeks. Plus, it felt weird staring at his own foot considering he was once caught staring at Valerie’s feet mid-lecture.

The little guy, while sitting on his bed, put the boot back on and hobbled toward his computer desk. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to look up first. Were his grades coming in yet? Did he need information about Jessica Bradley’s funeral (if she had one at all)? Did he need to spend some quality time on Porn Hub? Oswald’s mind raced so much in those few moments that he couldn’t come up with a decent answer. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” he asked.

While he couldn’t solve that Sherlock Holmes-esque mystery, his eyebrows furrowed and his fingers drummed against the desk as he got an idea of what he wanted. With Antero supposedly behind bars, was Incelbordination still a thing? Did most of their members get arrested too? Was there any truth in cutting off the head of the viper or did it just create a power vacuum for even more rabid members to fight over? Oswald typed Incelbordination in a Google search engine and his eyes widened at what he saw.

Any legitimate news stories covering this terrorist attack were overshadowed by jilted male virgins voicing their displeasure at Antero’s arrest. Some of these young men called for “The blood of Chads and Stacys everywhere” and how “A few dead college bitches aren’t enough!” Some of these dorks hailed Antero Magnus as a greater civil rights hero than the likes of Martin Luther King, Jr., Thurgood Marshall, and Ruth Bader Ginsberg. One kid suggested building a bronze statue of Antero raping a cheerleader and erecting it downtown for everyone to see.

Bile rose in Oswald’s throat, but he knew puking all over his computer would dislocate his ribs even further. His mind swirled with questions asking over and over again what the fuck was wrong with these people. His head lightened like a balloon ready to pop. He was so dizzy that he failed to notice a familiar feminine voice calling his name until the last second.

He jumped around in his chair and saw Nikita standing in his doorway with a few bags of pot in tow. Her face seemed to be lacking in color as well as she struggled to say, “I refilled your medication for you, Oswald.”

“Uh…thanks…I, uh…really appreciate that,” said the dwarf while shifting his eyes. Nikita’s own eyes widened as she tilted her head to get a better view of Oswald’s computer screen. “What? What is it?” Suddenly realizing why she gasped and held her mouth shut, he scrambled to find an explanation. “It’s not what you think, Nikita! You have to believe me!”

Dropping the bags of marijuana on the floor, Nikita stammered, “You’re sick. You’re fucking sick.” She attempted to storm out of the building, but Oswald hobbled after her while pleading with her to wait and allow him to explain.

The mini-chase led the two of them to the sidewalk where Nikita sat on the curb trying to collect her tears. Oswald stopped for a moment to let his foot stitches heal, but it was really to take in the stomach-knotting sight of this beautiful lady crying before him. No, not just any beautiful lady. It was the woman he had a crush on for so long and now he offended her by virtue of his internet history.

He limped towards her and attempted to put a hand on her shoulder only to have it swatted away. “No! Don’t touch me, Oswald,” Nikita cried. Silence befell both of them for several heart-wrenchingly tense seconds. Time itself stood still, not unlike Oswald, whose rising anxiety prevented him from comforting her. Nikita wiped away more tears and ranted, “You mean to tell me after all of this time and after all the positive messages sent your way that you still feel the need to identify with those…monsters?! Are you that starved for attention?”

Putting his hands up defensively, Oswald calmly said, “Please, let me explain. I wasn’t looking up those threads for the reason that you think. I needed to know if Incelbordination was still active and…as you just saw…” He tucked his head in defeat, not knowing what else to say to her.

Nikita turned her head to face the sullen Oswald and said, “Of course they’re still active. Sure, they have people who hate their guts, but they also have supporters. Lots of them. There are people who support Al Queda. There are people who support Nazis and the KKK and the Westboro Baptist Church. You’re not going to change everybody’s mind just because one of their prominent figures is behind bars.” She stood up and held Oswald’s hands in her own. “These zealots are stuck in their ways, Oswald. You don’t want to get involved with people like that. If anything, they’re even more motivated now that they have a hero to look up to.”

“Nikita…you have to believe me. I don’t want to be a part of Incelbordination. That’s not who I am. I may be lonely and depressed all the time, but it would never occur to me to take the measures Antero has. In fact…I think that man is a fucking scumbag…He hurt me just as much as he hurt everyone else. That’s why I’m banged up right now. I don’t want to join him. I want to bury him.”

In the midst of this handholding, Oswald hotly debated in his own mind whether that moment was the right time to make his move. He could end his loneliness forever by taking a chance. She couldn’t be any more hurt than she was at that moment. What was a little hand petting going to do? He did just that…and Nikita jerked her hands away and asked, “What are you doing?”

Oswald once again tucked his head in shame and profusely apologized for his come-on. His heart thudded in agony and all he wanted to do was retreat back into his dorm and sleep off the rest of the day. But just as he turned around, Nikita placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “I can’t do it, Oswald. I’m married.”

“…What? You’ve been…I mean…you’re not wearing a ring.”

Nikita knelt down to Oswald’s level and explained, “I know. I had to sell it in order to pay for tuition. My husband had to sell his ring too for his own expenses. I’m not just telling you these things to try and get away from you. If I’m going to believe you’re not an incel terrorist looking for someone to murder, then you need to believe that I’m happily married to the man I love. And of course, I wouldn’t be married to him if I didn’t trust him completely. You and I? We need to trust each other too. I’m not making excuses, Oswald.”

The dwarf face-palmed and shook his head before taking a seat on the curb. The silence between the two friends was heavy enough to crunch Oswald’s ribcage all over again, as if his broken heart didn’t do enough damage in that regard. “So what’s his name?” he finally asked.

“His name is Bill. He goes to school here. He’s a student athlete.”

“Figures.”

Hands on her hips and eyebrows downward, she asked, “What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

Oswald sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that…whenever I hear the words student athlete, I can’t help but think of guys like Wacey Judge. I don’t have the best track record for getting along with them seeing as how…I was…” He wiped away a singular tear. “I was almost killed in high school.”

Her face softening, Nikita placed her hands on Oswald’s shoulders and said, “Bill is not a stereotypical jock, if that’s what you’re asking. He’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. You’d like him too. He is definitely not a Chad, so don’t even go there.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Nikita sighed. “Listen, I just came by here to drop off your medicine. I have to get going now. Bill’s picking me up for a dinner date in half an hour. If you’re ever feeling lonely or you need a friend to talk to…don’t ever go back to those incel message boards.”

“Wouldn’t dream of that either.”

Nikita patted Oswald on the head and said her goodbyes before turning heel and walking away. The dwarf continued sitting on the curb even though the couch in his dorm room was a more comfortable option. How could he get up with his heavy heart weighing him down? How could he send another storm of pain through his body just to retreat into his personal space?

Instead he just buried his face in his knees and allowed his tears to drop like summer rain. He didn’t give a damn if anybody was watching. Chances were good they didn’t care if he got his heart broken anyways. Piling that on top of Jessica’s death, Antero’s transgressions, and his own battle-scarred body and he could have just slept on the sidewalk all he wanted. Concrete? A mattress? What was the fucking difference when he felt bad either way?

Incelbordination, Chapter 18

Oswald Crow didn’t sign up for college just so he could sleep through the whole thing. He didn’t lose his parents to a drunk driver pretending to be a born-again Christian so that he could run into another fruit basket with the macho name Antero Magnus. College was supposed to be a learning experience, yet he saw his teachers not as mentors, but as obstacles. Maybe there was some truth to what Valerie Sand had been saying to him this whole time. Maybe she shouldn’t have had a piece of gym equipment named after her. Maybe…just maybe he really was loved in this world.

Rather than reflect on his many nights spent in the hospital (where his toes were surgically reattached and his ribs were held in place with Canisteo tape), Oswald wanted to go right back to work on his homework assignments. No misogynist criminals were going to hinder his process. No lack of marijuana was going to cloud his mind. It was do or die for the dwarf and he wanted to graduate as soon as possible. Summer was almost upon him. He needed to fix that C- paper. With a little more life experience under his belt and some hardcore Googling, his aching fingers danced across the keyboard to produce something he could actually smile about, even if only sadly.

He emailed the corrected paper to Valerie and sat in his computer chair staring at the medical boot on his surgically repaired foot. “Goddamn, that’s going to cost me,” he said. “Where the fuck is all this money supposed to come from?” Even successful authors needed extra employment every now and then. Oswald couldn’t picture himself sweeping popcorn off of movie theater floors or dipping frozen fries in boiling oil. Then again, he knew he had to start somewhere. The bottom of the ladder would be a welcome place if he could ever find it. He had weeks to think about it since graduation was on the horizon.

As Oswald trudged across campus with his medical boot and his cumbersome trench coat, he couldn’t help but notice the ghostly faces of everyone around him. No doubt that trauma was tearing them apart from the inside. “Goddamn you, Antero,” the dwarf said to himself. Even he felt like a wraith haunting the college grounds. One minute he was a hero and the next he was a part of this graveyard-like background. These people couldn’t cheer for him because they didn’t have the psychological energy to. As much as depression tried to tell him otherwise, he wanted to be understanding rather than dismissive of their “ignorance”.

The glass door from Valerie’s classroom was still in shambles, but the inside had improved quite a bit since Oswald was last here playing the role of hero. New desks were brought in. Wheeled chairs from the computer lab were also part of the furniture. There was even one lucky lady who got to sit in a fuzzy recliner chair. That lucky lady was none other than Nikita Johnson, whose black eye healed quite nicely over the past few days. She still had golden patches here and there and she tucked her chin to show her psychological frustration, but she was otherwise okay. Oswald wanted to take a seat next to her and tell her it would be alright, but ultimately left well enough alone when he sat in the back like he always did.

Valerie Sand stood at the head of the classroom also with her chin tucked, but was the only one brave enough to speak first. “Good morning, class. I know I don’t say this often enough, but thank you all for being here today. It’s been a bad few weeks as you can tell from the smashed door and whatnot. Some of our classmates couldn’t make it here today, either because of their traumatic experiences or because they’re no longer among the living. For those of you who were fortunate enough to live through these terrorist attacks, I have three words for you: life goes on.”

She wrote those words on the chalkboard and underlined them for extra emphasis. “It never ceases to amaze me what kinds of events bring people together. It could be music. It could be comedy. It could be theater. But in this case, as sad as it may seem, it took a war to bring us together. It’s because of our collective strength that we can truly say life goes on. We give each other the strength to push forward. We cannot divide each other at a time like this. Yes, Antero Magnus is finally behind bars. Yes, this is the first terrorist attack we’ve had on campus and we were wildly unprepared for it. But life goes on. It went on after 9/11. It went on after the various school shootings that took place around the country. Life goes on because we refuse to let negativity reign supreme. We are here for each other.”

Pointing her finger around the classroom, she said, “Each and every one of you.” She then looked Oswald dead in the eyes, “You included, Mr. Crow…you are all loved. If you have to find that love in the comfort of strangers, so be it. But it is there if you look for it. Help awaits you if you want it. It’s never too late to take care of yourself and each other. Look around you, ladies and gentlemen. These people are your friends. They’re your secondary family. Antero Magnus and the rest of Incelbordination failed to see that and they paid the price for it. Could they have been helped? It’s a debatable point, but I’d like to think we’re all capable of being helped at one point or another. I want to see the good in everyone. I want to believe that Antero wasn’t always a psychotic murderer. Something inside him snapped and he became this monster we know today. Don’t ever stray from the path of love. It’s never worth the pain.”

The entire classroom’s eyes, Valerie’s included, welled up with tears, but no sobbing took place. She thanked her students and they all applauded for her, including Oswald even though he still had sore hands. Making sure his teacher’s words were appreciated was more important than minor physical pain.

Once the clapping died down, Valerie said, “And because life goes on, it just so happens that I have your papers graded. I see a lot of improvements among you, some more than others, but then again, this is not a contest where the best grade wins. All that matters to me is that you’ve learned something from being in my class. I don’t care what grades you get after college is over. I’m more concerned with what kind of people you all will become. And that, my friends, is the biggest improvement of all.”

Oswald couldn’t help but give a sad smile at that sentiment. There was hope for him after all. There was hope for this world. There was hope for the future. The difficulty of believing his elders had finally been lifted from the dwarf’s shoulders. Valerie passed the corrected papers back to all of her students and of course, because Oswald sat in the back, he got his last. His anxiety bubbled up just a little bit, but it was more like a cup of tea rather than a raging lava pit. What he wouldn’t give for a cup of tea right at this moment. Such a relaxing thing to drink on a ghostly day like today. Maybe it would help his mental illnesses if only for a little bit.

The good news for Oswald was that upon receiving his paper, he was no longer a bastardized C- student. Instead that minus sign had a slash through the middle and his sad smile turned into a look of despair. He went from a C- to a C+ after Valerie just gave a speech about how everybody improved so much. Oswald’s inner voices told him to just tear the paper in half and toss it in the garbage, maybe spit some mucous onto it first…or piss on it right in front of the rest of the class.

But he did none of those things because he knew such reactions would prove nothing to a teacher who already made up her mind about him. Oswald felt no need to alienate himself further from his peers, so he quietly tucked the C+ paper into his backpack and maintained a stoic expression. If what Valerie said was true, then the C+ would be nothing compared to the feeling of becoming a new person. But was it true? Did Oswald really learn anything from being wrapped around Antero’s finger this whole time?

While Oswald’s mind didn’t race nearly as hard is it normally did after receiving a bad grade, he did find it hard to concentrate on that day’s lecture. He still didn’t participate in the conversation, but then again, not a lot of students did that day. This wasn’t just candles burning at both ends. This terrorist attack truly did take its toll on the student body. But life goes on as Valerie wisely said. Life goes on…

By the time Oswald could gather his wits together, Valerie was already dismissing her class. One-by-one they filed out of the room, but the dwarf just sat in his desk in silence. The teacher said his name several times, but didn’t get his attention with a sharp tone this time around. Instead she told him, “It’s good to have you back, Mr. Crow. This place isn’t the same without you.”

All the dwarf could do about that was nod like a bobble-head and gingerly leave the classroom. The garbage bin was right there. He could rebel against the system once again if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He walked right passed the teacher and her bin and gazed into the pink clouds, which looked lovely in an environment where the student body were paranoid and peaceful at the same time.

In Love (Incelbordination Theme Song)

VERSE 1

I’m in love with my lust, in death we trust

I’m in love with the societies that crumbled to dust

I’m in love with my machete, her name is Betty

The only girl whom I could really go steady

I’m in love with terrorism on the television

And how the lives saved were a tough decision

I’m in love with chaos, I was raised in that mess

I’m in love with my ability to control and infest

CHORUS

You can call me a fruit basket

But I’ve already bought the caskets

You can call me an extremist

But it’s me you will believe in

VERSE 2

I’m not in love with your sexy sister

Don’t try to say that I’d ever kissed her

I’m not in love with your trophy wife

I’m not in love with the married life

I’m not in love with your daughter

I’m not in love with being led to slaughter

Nobody can save me however they try

The world is mine, one-by-one they die

CHORUS

You can call me a fruit basket

But I’ve already bought the caskets

You can call me an extremist

But it’s me you will believe in

BRIDGE

Beauty is only skin deep at best

The game of life is a fucking test

One that I’ve failed ten times over

Might as well be another freeloader

VERSE 3

I’m in love with the lives I hold in my hands

I’m in love with being the last man who stands

I’m in love with being the walking Armageddon

I don’t care if you don’t seem to fucking get it

CHORUS

You can call me a fruit basket

But I’ve already bought the caskets

You can call me an extremist

But it’s me you will believe in

FINAL LINES

I’m in love!

I’m in love!

I’m in love!
And no one cares!

Incelbordination, Chapter 17

“Antero…I know the two of us can’t agree on a damn thing right now…I know all that incel propaganda has made you completely bat shit insane…but what I want to find out is…what the hell are you doing in my dorm…with a machete?!”

The trench coat-clad terrorist snickered while sharpening his blade with a whetstone, looking so casual like this was a part of his every day life. “What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here, buddy? Shouldn’t you be evacuated right now with the rest of the normies and manlets? It’s not my fault you didn’t get the memo, though you kind of have an excuse since you spent the last few nights in jail.”

Clenching his pain-wracked fists, Oswald gritted his teeth and said, “No, Antero. It’s your fault that this shit is happening to begin with! You caused all of this pain because you couldn’t find a girlfriend! You know what? I wanted to believe in your rhetoric. I wanted to believe I could start a revolution with just my two fists. And then I figured out a long time ago that if I gave you an enema right now, you could sleep in a matchbox.”

“Paraphrasing Christopher Hitchens isn’t going to save you from the ass beating I’m about to give you,” said Antero as he stood up and tossed the whetstone at Oswald, barely missing his head. “You want to talk about rhetoric and revolution and all that shit? None of it compares to the pain I feel on a daily basis. It’s not just about chicks and Chads anymore. I’m talking worldwide genocide, bitch!”

“Worldwide genocide, my ass, Antero! You can deny it all you want, but the whole world knows you’re pissed off about not getting laid. That’s all this is or else you wouldn’t be in my dorm room wielding a machete right now. Sooner or later, the police are going to find you. And when they do, the misery you feel inside is going to make your fucking head explode. Then again…you really can’t get any uglier, exploding head or not.”

“Bastard!” shouted Antero before rushing at Oswald with his blade held high. The terrorist took a swing and the dwarf managed to roll out of the way, but not without sending a toxic stream of pain through his body. As Oswald laid on the ground clutching his aching body parts, Antero planted a boot in his chest and held the machete to the little person’s throat. “You won’t get any flowers on your grave as I’ve already told you that morning with Uncle Tuomas. But if you have any requests for what’s carved into your tombstone, make them now or forever hold your peace.”

Instead of giving Antero the satisfaction, Oswald took a bear trap bite out of the terrorist’s toes, causing him to scream in agony and stumble backwards on his ass. The little guy’s pain boiled throughout his entire body as he struggled to pull himself to his feet. Meanwhile, Antero mocked him with, “I had no idea you were into feet, little manlet!”

“Burn in hell, you sick prick!” belted Oswald as he dashed towards the exit, but not without Antero shouting battle cries at him and swinging his machete like a schizophrenic samurai. The so-called “manlet” fumbled with the doorknob and lost precious time, allowing Antero to take another swing. Oswald moved his hand just in time and allowed the blade to slice off the doorknob. The dwarf kicked Antero in the shin and bolted out into the night air.

Try as he might to battle through the pain and ignore the inferno raging in his bones, Oswald stumbled over the sidewalk and allowed Antero to punt him in the ribs. The little guy went flying into a parked car and dented the door, causing the alarm to sound off throughout the neighborhood.

Oswald clutched his ribcage and whined in pain while the car alarm grated against his ears like a cheese shredder. Through watery eyes and darkening vision due to his slowing heart, he could see Antero smiling down at him with the blade pointed at his sorrowful face. This was it. This was how shit was going to end. Oswald thought of his own moments he would never experience in the afterlife. No deflowering. No true love. No Christmas morning. No graduation. No published books. Just a rotting midget corpse lying in the same grassy field as Uncle fucking Tuomas.

The dwarf had one last negotiation tactic before the blade severed his throat. “You should get the hell out of here before the police find you. There’s…” he spat up blood. “There’s an alarm going off, you know.” He spat up even more blood.

“Nobody’s coming to save you, you little shit. Just like nobody’s coming to save me. In the end, we’re all just chalk lines in the fucking concrete, drawn only to be washed away.”

“Sorry, Antero…but quoting Five Finger Death Punch isn’t going to save your life!” Sacrificing his foot, Oswald kicked the blade hard enough to sever a few toes and also blow it back in his attacker’s face. The leaking gash across Antero’s nose and mouth caused his screaming to sound like he was drowning in a bathtub. But instead of calling for help, he called for the one person who he thought could save him in this desperate time.

“Mommy! Help me! I want to go home! I don’t want to die! Don’t let me die! Mommy! Save me! I don’t want to meet Uncle Tuomas! He’ll tear me apart!”

Struggling to sit up with his ribs possibly broken and his foot mangled, Oswald couldn’t help but watch Antero’s melt down with a little bit of pity. He didn’t know if the tears in his eyes were from the pain or from genuine sadness. Here was a guy who thought he could change the world with his violent ways. And now that the violence was storming against him…all he could do was cry for his mommy.

Oswald reached for the dented car door’s handle and lifted himself to his one good foot. He noticed through sopping wet eyes that campus police had gotten word of the car alarm going off and Antero’s subsequent cries for mommy. Two burly men in green security uniforms grabbed the terrorist by his arms and hoisted him to his feet kicking and screaming before cuffing him. No matter how much Antero revolted, the same mommy rhetoric spewed from his mouth faster than the leaking machete wound.

Several students who had not yet evacuated the premise watched Antero’s arrest with tears in their own eyes. Their nightmares had come to an end right in front of them. But could they get their studies done in peace with heads full of trauma? Oswald kept wondering about his own studies, but quickly shifted his attention to his injured ribs and bloody foot. He stumbled across the parking lot and dropped to the ground, coughing up even more precious life fluids.

What happened next was something Oswald never dreamed of expecting in a million years. Other students actually knelt by his side to help him and see if he was okay. One of the girls pulled out her cell phone to call for an ambulance. The strokes of Oswald’s matted hair, the holding of his hands, and the gentle voices calming him down made him believe in worldwide love all over again. It didn’t have to be romantic. It didn’t have to be permanent. It was just people coming together during a moment of crisis and he was okay with that.

“Oswald, don’t die on us!” one of the female students shouted. “Open your eyes! An ambulance is coming to get you, okay?”

The dwarf wanted to get his piece in, but he vomited a geyser of blood all over his own face. The other students stepped back a little in shock, but immediately rejoined him to share his pain. “It’s over,” said Oswald through sloppy lips. “It’s over! He’s finally gone…”

Before he could finish his final thoughts, the dwarf blacked out yet again, which seemed to be a normal occurrence for him throughout these eventful few days under Incelbordination’s watch. He secretly wished he could have slept through this whole story. No pain. No trauma. No horny incels. Just peace and quiet…and maybe Bruce BecVar’s guitar playing and heavenly vocals.

Incelbordination, Chapter 16

Oswald traced his fingers along the healing scars on his hands, careful not to pick at the scabs. Though they still made him wince a little, they were healing quite nicely. He might be back to punching a sand bag in no time at all, and no, he wasn’t talking about his English teacher. Any ill feelings he had toward her had disappeared now that he had the benefit of hindsight. A C- on a project was nothing compared to having another human being’s life in his hands.

Though his mind was the loudest it had ever been, the space between himself and Nikita Johnson remained tranquil and quiet. This kind of silence allowed the two of them to relax as they drove down the highway together. If it wasn’t for Oswald having a burning question, he could fall right back to sleep. “What’s your opinion on how to handle this?”

“What’s yours?”

“Well, it depends. What’s going on at school right now?”

Nikita sighed and shook her head. “Everybody’s in shock. The construction crew are going through all of the damaged buildings and roads. Nobody feels like going to their classes. Trauma therapists are everywhere. You should consider seeing one, Oswald. I know I will. From what I hear, the college is paying for their sessions.”

Resting his face on his hand, Oswald said, “I don’t know, Nikita. I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing lately: opening myself up to people. But the more I open myself up, the more I get hurt. Talking about my problems never actually brought me healing. It just made shit worse. It made me relive the worst parts of my life.”

“Yeah, you definitely have some PTSD going on. You’re not going to find your healing just by isolating yourself and puffing away. You need to put yourself out there. Trust me, I know how lonely college life can be.”

Oswald cleared his throat and asked, “Speaking of puffing away, why did you agree to provide the cops with my prescription if you’re such a standup straightedge person?”

Nikita sighed. “I guess it was the only way I could pay you back for everything you’ve done for me. You’ve saved my life twice and all I’ve done for you is get you locked up. That hardly seems fair, and definitely not indicative of the straightedge way. I mean, I don’t agree with what you’re doing, but who am I to tell you otherwise?”

Nikita turned the radio on and fiddled with the knob until she found the new age station, which happened to be playing the piece of acoustic guitar heaven known as “Your Heart Can Sing” by Bruce BecVar. Oswald closed his eyes and was on the edge of dozing off several times. “This is beautiful,” he said.

“You should listen to this kind of music more often. Sometimes a heavy metal scream just won’t cut it. Everybody needs to take the edge off every now and then. Who knows? Maybe if you listened to new age music while smoking one of your joints…” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled in lieu of finishing her sentence.

“It’d be much easier to relax if I knew Antero was locked up.”

Nikita patted Oswald on the head. “You and me both, buddy. You and me both.”

The comforting pats turned into a gentle head scratch, which caused the dwarf to sink into his seat further and get even more comfy. He couldn’t get too comfy in case he got an involuntary hard-on. He crossed his stubby legs for added insurance. He also couldn’t understand how he deserved such a wonderful nail massage considering his hair was probably greasier than McDonald’s fries. Speaking of McDonald’s…

“I can’t believe she hung herself.”

“Who?”

Oswald’s eyes shot up as he unintentionally let the cat out of the bag. “She, uh…she was, uh….just a friend.”

Ending the massage and pointing her fingers, Nikita said, “That’s why you need to see a trauma therapist. You can’t even get your story straight.”

“That’s all well and good, but what can a therapist do for me that my marijuana isn’t already doing? I mean…nothing seems to work these days. No talking. No Mary-Jane. Not a damn thing. It’s like I’m destined to live with this shit for the rest of my life. I fucking hate it.”

Patting the dwarf’s shoulder, Nikita said, “That’s the nature of mental illnesses. They’re nothing like the scars on your hands or anywhere else on your body for that matter. These scars don’t heal overnight. This is something you have to work on and you can’t do it alone. Please, Oswald, see a therapist. If not for your own sake, then at least for mine. You remember what I told you back at that warehouse, right?”

“…I am loved…”

“Yes, and that’s the truth. I mean, do you really believe that the entire world is out to get you? Every single person walking this planet has an agenda to make your life miserable? Every last one of them? Not everyone is a bully, Oswald. It doesn’t really matter that you’re short. Is being short really worse than being evil? Or shallow? Or stupid? Or vain? Your dwarfism is just a body type. It doesn’t determine who you are as a human being. And yes, Oswald, you ARE a human being. Start treating yourself like one.”

The dwarf breathed a heavy sigh and wiped little droplets from his eyes. Maybe there was some truth in what Nikita told him. Maybe the depressive and anxious voices in his head were a bunch of lying thieves trying to rob him of his happiness and potential. But as it was, there was no mediator between Oswald’s heart and mind. He wanted to get better. He wanted to live a normal life. But every time he started to believe, something was raped and taken from him. He wiped more tears from his eyes while Nikita rubbed his shoulders some more.

“It’s okay to cry in front of me, Oswald. I won’t judge you. I just need to know one thing before I drop you off tonight. Who was the woman who hung herself?”

Trying to steady his trembling mouth, the dwarf said, “Not a woman. A girl. Fourteen years old. Her name was Jessica Bradley. She, uh…worked at McDonald’s. Not as a fry cook, but, uh…”

Nikita’s eyes widened. “Oswald, did you try to proposition her?”

“When she said she was fourteen, I took off running. I’d never do that to someone like her, Nikita, you have to believe me. Antero put me up to it.”

“If I find out you’re attracted to teenage girls, I’m going to…”

“I’m not, damn it!” Oswald belted, opening a rift of silence between them for a few long seconds. “I’m telling you, I didn’t have sex with her! I may have been desperate, but I’m not a monster! You said yourself that I should start treating myself like a human being! Well, that’s what I did when I ran away from Jessica and turned her down for sex!”

Before Nikita could formulate a potentially judgmental answer, she pulled up to Oswald’s dorm and said, “Here we are. Get some rest. You’re going to need it.” The dwarf couldn’t get out of the car fast enough, snorting mucous and wiping tears the entire way to his front door. “Oswald! Please…be careful. And don’t forget what I told you…you are loved…”

Nikita drove away while Oswald shook his head. “Why do I not believe her?” he asked himself. “Oh yeah, because I’m fucking anxious and depressed, that’s why. What was I thinking?”

He entered the unlocked dorm commons and saw that it was dark and nobody was home. “Where’s the goddamn light switch?” he muttered while fumbling around.

He didn’t have to fumble for long. The whole commons illuminated while a familiar voice in the background asked a question Oswald was used to hearing by now: “Need a light?”

“No…No…No! This isn’t possible!”

“Evidence in the old eyes, my friend. No magic tricks. No Matrix bullshit. Nothing up my sleeves. Just a nice hard swallow of some good old black pills. It’s me, Oswald. Antero fucking Magnus, Supreme Gentleman extraordinaire. How’s that knot on your forehead feeling? Or better yet…how’re your knuckles feeling after punching a glass door? That’s right, buddy. I caught you with your pants down this time! You’re dead!”