“It’s over…it’s all over…I’m dead…” Oswald silently mouthed
as he sat in his jail cell awaiting whatever hell was coming his way. “Shit,
I’m already in hell. I’ve been in hell ever since I was fucking born!” he
ranted while attempting to punch the cell bars. He pulled back at the last
minute after learning his lesson in the interrogation room. But that was where
the learning ended for him. Even if he somehow was found not guilty for these
pseudo crimes, he figured he’d get expelled from college in a heartbeat. Then
what? Why all the hard work if it was just going to be ripped away from him?
“This is bullshit!”
“Oh, please! Stop being such a baby. At least you’ll live
another day,” said a familiar feminine voice from within the cell. Oswald
hopped down from his bunk and got a better look at the shadows covering this
woman’s face. It wasn’t a woman at all. It was the teenager from McDonald’s,
complete with a black eye and scratches on her bare legs.
Referring to the “live another day” remark, Oswald asked, “What
are you, a fucking fortune teller now?”
“No. I’m just stating the facts,” the girl said while
sitting on her own bunker and swinging her aching feet. “It finally happened. I
got picked up. At least you have a future of some kind. Me? I’ve lost everything.
Can’t you tell how happy I am? Maybe I should try again at getting someone to
buy a Hap-Hap-Happy Meal for me!” She swung her arm in mock joy to drive home
her point.
“At least you’re not being accused of terrorism,” said
Oswald with rolled eyes and folded arms.
“Terrorism, shmerrorism. As long as you didn’t do a damn
thing, they can’t hold you forever. I’m the only one between the two of us who
actually committed a crime. Meanwhile, my asshole client is probably partying
it up somewhere. Nobody will tell me what happened to him.” The girl laid on
her back and placed both hands behind her head in a vain attempt to relax,
which was nearly impossible to do on these rock-hard beds.
“How do you know what I’m being accused of?”
“Because you wouldn’t shut up about it!” snapped the
prostitute.
It finally dawned on Oswald that he had been muttering to
himself this whole time while being oblivious to everyone around him. He was so
anxious, distracted, and traumatized that he had been arguing with his demons rather
than real people. The little guy held his head and whined, “Oh, what I wouldn’t
give for some weed.”
“I suppose it’s better for you than what I was eating at
McDonald’s.” Oswald gave her a confused stare before she clarified, “I meant
the food, you nimrod.”
“Oh…of course…well…” He cleared his throat and also tried in
vain to relax on his iron bed. He suddenly remembered that he was injured when
the uncomfortable bed aggravated his lower back wounds. He clutched his spine
and muttered “Ow!” multiple times.
“So tell me…why did you leave me back there?” the teenager
asked. “Were you afraid of getting arrested? But now you’re already in jail, so
how’s that working out for you? I could have used your help, you know.”
“Pfft! Help with what? I already gave you an ass load of
food.” Oswald got an awkward stare from the teen and clarified, “Ass load is a
figure of speech, you fool! I wouldn’t do that to you even if you paid me
instead of the other way around.”
That got a giggle from the teenager. “My name is Jessica, by
the way.” Extending her arm halfway across the cell, she said, “I’d shake your
hand right now, but I don’t feel like moving around. As you can tell, I’m
pretty banged up. You don’t look so hot yourself, little guy.”
“My name isn’t little guy. It’s Oswald. I’d shake your hand
too, but my knuckles are fucked up from punching a glass door. No terrorist in
his right mind would do that for a woman.”
Holding her hands up, Jessica said, “Whoa, whoa,
whoa…there’s a woman in your life that I’m not aware of? And you came to
McDonald’s looking for a good time?”
Oswald shrugged. “Eh, she’s not really my girlfriend. Then
again, I’m not really boyfriend material. Too much baggage and not enough
height to carry it all. I believe in certain terrorist circles, my type would
be referred to as a manlet.”
“You know, you don’t need to hang around with people like
that, Oz-Man.”
“Oz-Man? Never been called that before.”
“Get used to it, especially if you do someday hook up with a
nice girl. Truth is, if Disney movies taught me anything, it’s that physical
appearance is highly overrated. Sometimes all you have to do to win a woman’s
heart is to be your sweet self.”
“Trust me, Jessica, I’m not sweet.”
“That’s because you don’t give yourself the chance to be. I
still remember how nervous you were around me. You had all of this fast food to
pay me with, which pretty much guarantees you a night of fun sex, and you still
couldn’t steady yourself for just a few minutes. I’m not saying you have to be
obnoxiously confident, but believing in yourself just a little bit might go a
long way.”
Oswald sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know…”
Jessica sat up in her bed. “Oz-Man, look at me. You’re
selling yourself shor…I mean…you’re not giving yourself enough credit. I don’t
know what it is that’s holding you back, but you’ve got to let that shit go. Do
you want to be miserable and angry along with the rest of the incels or do you
want a little bit of happiness every now and then?”
Oswald sighed again and wiped a modicum of tears from his
eyes. “Obviously, I want to be happy, but…”
“But nothing! Happiness is an inside job, don’t you know
that? Believe it or not, there were times in my life when I was happy to be on
this earth. I loved going to McDonald’s back when I didn’t have to hump
anything that walked just for some chicken nuggets. They had a play place, a
friendly clown, and some cool toys. Now…” Jessica wiped tears from her own eyes
as well. “But no, go on, keep thinking that you’re miserable. Keep pretending
that you’re the one who’s hurting.” The teen rolled over on her belly and
sobbed silently into her pillow.
What the fuck am I doing here? Oswald thought. All of this
legal trouble, all of this heartache, all of this sadness…for what? Sure, he
was clinically depressed and anxious, but he knew in his heart of hearts he
didn’t do enough for himself. Maybe there was truth in Valerie Sand giving him
a C-. Maybe Nikita Johnson was right to take his pot away. Maybe Antero Magnus
wasn’t much of a friend to begin with. And Wacey Judge? Well, he could just go
fuck himself.
“Jessica…I’m sorry,” Oswald mouthed before being cut off by
the sound of a baton banging against the bars. The sudden shock jolted the two
cell mates into attention.
“Oswald Crow? You need to come with me now. It’s time to
make a decision,” said the chunky police officer with his face covered in
shadows.
Decision? What kind of decision? Oswald thought. He couldn’t
help but give the guard a weird look on his way out of the cell. Was now the
time to decide his plea? Did he have to choose which one of two sentences was
the lesser evil? Did he have to choose whether he wanted to be prison raped or
beaten to death? These were all unreasonable, yet solid questions, but the one
thing Oswald couldn’t help but ask was, “Aren’t you a little out of shape to be
a cop?”
Just like that a black hood was placed over his head,
causing Oswald to thrash around despite his injuries. Documentaries he watched
of water boarding, whipping, and suffocation in Gitmo flashed through his mind
while various officers aided in keeping him stabilized. The dwarf was sure he
wouldn’t survive such a hellhole. If this was his ticket to the afterlife, he’d
rather live in misery despite Jessica’s young wisdom.
And then a familiar voice crept up from behind and asked
Oswald a question he’d heard many times before: “Need a light?”
