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 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 15

“Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home?” Oswald sang to the dark wall in front of him. He hadn’t a single clue how much time had past since his incarceration. He could feel his brain popping like popcorn. He could feel his soul exiting through his mouth as he sang Pink Floyd lyrics. Any smile he had that day could be chalked up to mind-numbing insanity. It didn’t even occur to him to call for help even though nobody would answer him. It occurred to him even less to pound on the walls. His stomach growled in a leonine voice, but all he could hear were the echoes of a distant time come willowing across the sand.

And then his one-man show was finally interrupted by the opening of his cell door, keys jangling in the lock and all. The intense light flooded the room and burned Oswald’s retinas so badly that he cowered in the corner shielding his face. All he could see past his fingers was the silhouette of a trench coat-wearing female. It was nothing like the kind of coat Antero regularly wore to keep up his Matrix gimmick. This was professional-looking. And the woman’s voice was nothing short of professional-sounding.

“Bad few days, huh, Mr. Crow?” said Detective Mia Barry, whose face came into plain view once the light had dimmed a little.

Through a withering voice, Oswald asked, “What do you want from me this time?”

“I have some good news for you, Oz-Man.”

“You saved a bunch of money on your car insurance by switching to Geico?”

Mia giggled. “No, not that, although they do have nice customer service. I’m talking about good news as it relates to your charges.”

Oswald lowered his hands as his red eyes adjusted to the darkening light. “I’m listening.”

“Our tech guys scoured your computer and sifted through further evidence. There’s no proof you were ever involved with Incelbordination. From the looks of things, you couldn’t get out of that chat room fast enough.”

“W…wait a minute…you mean…what I did at the warehouse? That’s been cleared up too?”

Folding her arms and leaning against the cell door, Mia explained, “Three witnesses put you at that scene. Well, only two if you’re not counting that meathead Wacey Judge. Miss Sand and Miss Johnson put in a good word for you. They said you were argumentative, but otherwise safe to be around. You should thank those two, you know. They stuck their necks out for you. They wouldn’t do that if they thought you were a terrorist.”

Oswald could finally open his eyes to full capacity in expression of disbelief. “Those three…they’re alive?”

“Actually, we performed some necromancy on them and asked them the hard-hitting questions once they were properly summoned. Of course they’re alive, silly!”

A slowly forming smile crept upon Oswald’s face. “Does that mean…you finally got Antero?!”

Scratching her nose, Mia said, “Actually, that’s where the bad news begins. Antero Magnus is still out there somewhere. He and his incel buddies bailed on us at the last minute. Of course, you wouldn’t know that, because you got knocked the fuck out before we got there. You’ve still got a knot on your forehead from whatever Antero did to you.”

Oswald winced in pain as he prodded the fresh bruise on his forehead.

“Are you ready to hear the other half of the good news or do you want to poke your forehead some more?” Oswald excitedly nodded and Mia was happy to present the news after clearing her throat. “It turns out you do have a legal prescription for your marijuana use. The only reason why it was so hard to obtain was because you used your monthly dosage too soon. Just how much of that shit have you been puffing on at once?”

On account of being kneed in the face by Antero, Oswald actually had to think his absolute hardest to find out. He had been puffing every day like a diesel train without a thought of consequence. He puffed whenever he was nervous. He puffed because he could. He puffed whenever his favorite song came on his play list. Puff, puff, puff, nonstop, twenty-four-seven. No wonder his trench coat always smelled awful. He damned himself when he said, “Stupid!” and would have face-palmed if that bruise wasn’t jutting out so far.

“Yeah, you need to be more careful with your medication, Oz-Man. It’s not supposed to be for recreational use.”

“Well yeah, it makes sense now! I…just have one more question and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“You can ask as many questions as you want, Oswald. This isn’t an interrogation. Besides, I kind of owe you that luxury after you’ve spent so much time in here for nothing. This would actually be a good time for your marijuana usage.”

Oswald sighed and rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes. “Whatever happened to Jessica? Is she going to be alright?” Mia’s face softened at the mention of her name. “What? What’s going on?”

“You must be referring to Jessica Bradley, the teenage prostitute we stuck you with. Yeah, she, uh…” Mia scratched the back of her neck in search of the right way to say what she needed to say. She sighed and finally spit it out. “She hung herself the night Antero took you away. We tried CPR, but she didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Oswald. She’s dead.”

The dwarf buried his face in his hands and let the tears sting his already burning eyes. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach. His posture hunched over to where his neck ached. He even shouted, “Fuck!” as he pounded the wall behind him, aggravating his fist injuries even further. “Fucking hell!” he groaned while massaging his hand.

“Fourteen years old, Oswald. Even with prostitution on her record, she had her whole life ahead of her. She must have had some tough demons to face beforehand. Come to think of it, you’ve probably got some demons of your own to face. I would advise you to seek psychological help once you’re free. We don’t need another suicide, especially when you yourself have your whole life ahead of you as well.”

The dwarf gasped hard in between sobs. “Everything…I touch…turns to shit!”

“You see that? You see?!” Mia snapped, her following words growing more erratic as she pointed her finger. “That’s the reason why you need help! You are not a horrible person! You are not an incel terrorist! You are not a drug addict! You’re a human fucking being! If you kill yourself like Jessica did, you will have wasted your freedom and wasted an opportunity to set things right! Is that what you want?!”

“I just…I just want…” Oswald snorted snot up his nose and wiped the rest away with his sleeve. “I just want things to make sense, that’s all.”

Mia nodded and softened her tone. “I guess that’s something we all want, don’t we? But if you don’t seek help, nothing will ever make sense again. I know therapy is expensive, but it’s worth every penny. Oswald, I don’t want to watch you die in front of me. You’re innocent. You’ve been proven innocent by someone who’s waiting for you in the parking lot right now. She wants to give you a ride back to your dorm. She’s also the reason why we found your prescription in the first place. Come on, let’s go meet her.”

The detective approached Oswald and helped the sobbing dwarf to his feet. The two of them held hands together as they walked out of the police station. He knew she was just being a comfort to him, but handholding actually felt good for what it was. It didn’t have to be lovey-dovey. The kind gesture should have been appreciated and it was. I could never be an incel, thought Oswald as the last of his tears dried up on his sleeve.

After Oswald received his belongings (sans pot), Mia held the door open for him and said, “Have a good evening, little man. Get some sleep. You need it.”

His eyes lit up behind glassy vision when he saw a familiar woman standing next to her car with her arms folded. “No way,” said Oswald. It was true. She too had been through a lot. She too had watery pupils. She too had a bruise on her face, though hers was swollen over one eye.

“Come on, little dude. Let’s get you home,” said Nikita Johnson as she opened the passenger door and offered to help Oswald inside.

Incelbordination, Chapter 13

Oswald had no earthly clue how much time he spent underneath the hood. He could have fallen asleep for all he knew. He could have had more concussed visions. But when the hood was removed, a dot matrix danced across his field of vision while his weary eyes adjusted to the light. He even took deep breaths just to make sure he was still alive. But just because he was alive, didn’t mean he wasn’t already in some kind of hell. Except Antero Magnus didn’t call it hell. He just called it a “favorite hideout”.

The dim lighting revealed a broken down abandoned warehouse with crates stacked as high as the eye could see, warped wood all around, and the most important feature, three chair bound human beings with hoods over their heads. No matter how vigorously the captives struggled, their ropes only seemed to get tighter. Moderating this kidnapping was Antero Magnus himself, drumming his fingers across the back of the middle captive’s chair. “Leave us. Don’t get caught,” he told his henchmen, who were happy to oblige.

Oswald’s bloodshot eyes still pounded in his skull as they adjusted, but his vision was clear enough to take in the horror of Antero gazing at him with those ice-cold cyan eyes. “What do you want this time? You do realize that the police are probably looking for you…”

Antero put a finger to his own lips and shushed his “buddy”. “Relax, Oz-Man. Nobody’s coming to rescue you or these three jack-offs I have here. Remember how I told you we don’t use the same meeting place twice?”

“What do you want from me?”

“I’m glad you asked that, Oswald, I really am. As one of my boys told you prior to busting you out of jail (you’re welcome, by the way), you have a decision to make. Do you want to let this world walk all over you or do you want to stand up for yourself?” Oswald tried to speak, but was once again cut off by Antero. “Ah, ah, ah! Before you answer that, allow me to reveal the people who will have a strong influence on your decision. Three people who don’t know what love is, yet they somehow believe they’re actually closer to you than a stranger.”

Antero proceeded to remove the hoods from his captives. On the far left, the blubbering muscle jock Wacey Judge, who didn’t look so tough with his mile long sad face. In the middle, there was Valerie Sand, who like her counterpart had a hard time keeping it together. And then on the right, Nikita Johnson, who was sporting a black eye not unlike the one Jessica had earlier in the evening. Oswald didn’t know whether to look at these three people in disgust, fear, or disturbance. His mind swirled for more reasons than having a fucked up brain.

“You see these three normies?” said Antero as he spread his arms out for display purposes. “Their lives are in your hands, Oswald. You can’t see it right now because the warehouse is so damn dark, but underneath their chairs are trap doors which will lead them to a cold, watery death. The chains attached to these trap doors are by your feet. If you so choose, you can pull those chains and finally stand up for what you believe in.”

“…You’re insane!” whined Oswald.

“No, little man, you’re insane!” snapped Wacey. “You think you have the right to kill me because of some friendly ribbing? Come on, man, that’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Friendly ribbing, my ass!” shouted Oswald, his hand firmly on Wacey’s trap door chain. “You’re the whole reason why I needed to learn how to fight in the first fucking place! Do you have any idea how close you came to killing my ass?! It’s too late for apologies, you meathead! Time to die!”

“No, stop!” pleaded Valerie. “Oswald, think about what you’re doing here. Look, I don’t condone what Wacey did to you. But if you kill him, there’s no turning back from that. The police will find you and lock you up for life. You’ll never have the chance to be the successful writer you’ve always wanted to be.”

“I wasn’t going to be a successful writer anyways, you little shit!” belted the dwarf, dropping Wacey’s chain and picking up Valerie’s. “Ever since I’ve signed up for college, you’ve done nothing but hold me back. I’d be lucky to graduate at all under your tutelage. You don’t see greatness in me. You don’t see greatness in any of your students, for that matter. We’re all just one big shit puddle of mediocrity to you! “

“That’s not true, Oswald!” cried Nikita, who then winced in pain from her fresh black eye. “She gives you those critiques because she wants you to be the best you can possibly be. I know this because I’ve gotten harsh critiques too. If I’m not immune to it, why should you be? Are you really going to kill your teacher over a bad grade?”

Oswald dropped Valerie’s chain and wasted no time in gathering Nikita’s slack. “No, I’m not going to kill my teacher. I’ll kill you instead! Here I thought Valerie was holding me back when it was you who turned me in to the police in the first fucking place. All for what? Because I don’t conform to your idea of what it means to be healthy? Newsflash, bitch! I’m not healthy. I’m sick! I’m so fucking sick of this goddamn world!”

“Yes! That’s what I like to see,” exclaimed Antero while throwing his hands in the air. “Passion! Energy! Emotion! Oh, this is better than going to the movies. Go ahead, Oz-Man, pull those motherfucking chains and prove your loyalty to Incelbordination!”

“Yeah, man, what are you waiting for?” blubbered Wacey. “Quit making us wait and kill us already. It’s not like we’re ever going to get out of here alive anyways.”

“Damn it, Wacey, shut the fuck up!” roared Nikita, putting the muscle jock in his place. She turned her attention back to Oswald with tears mounting in her swollen eyes, a sight the dwarf couldn’t help but feel for. “Listen to me, please. I know it doesn’t look like it right now, but I want you to know that…you are loved.”

“Oh please, spare me the bullshit!” yelled Antero while slapping Nikita upside the head.

“Shut up and keep your hands off of her, Antero!” snapped Oswald. “I want to hear what she has to say.”

“You heard the man,” mocked Antero. “Or should I say manlet. Go ahead, Nikita Johnsonville Brats, let’s see if you can talk yourself out of this shit.”

With all eyes on her, she took her time to catch her breath and steady her tears. She even formed a warm smile for Oswald as she spoke, to let him know her feelings were genuine. “Oswald, someone out there loves you for who you are. It doesn’t even have to be romantic love. It could just be a loving friendship. If you put yourself out there, someone will find you. This world is only a bad place if you make it that way. And it’s an even worse place if you let people like Antero tell you it is.”

Folding his arms impatiently, Antero sarcastically asked, “Are you done yet, princess? Good, then shut the fuck up and prepare to die. Go ahead, Oz-Man, pull the chains and let’s get the fuck out of here. We’ll grab a bite to eat at McDonald’s afterwards, maybe catch us some underage pussy.”

When Oswald furrowed his brows and lifted all three chains, the captives yelped in horror and cried once again. Valerie mouthed the word “please” over and over again in a last ditch effort for her life to be spared. Wacey tucked his chin either in shame or because he was too “manly” to let a midget see him cry. Nikita once again smiled warmly at Oswald as if she meant everything she said.

Three “strangers” whose lives were in his hands. One tug of the chains could put an end to his misery. Revenge could taste as sweet as cherry pie all over again. Antero was practically salivating at the idea of finally converting Oswald to his side. But in the end, the dwarf had no choice but to drop the chains and curl into a ball to cry his own eyes out. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, guys!” he sobbed. “I can’t do this anymore! I want to be loved! I want people to care about me!”

All three captives breathed a sigh of relief while Antero shook his head and slowly approached the dwarf. The Finnish-Swede terrorist knelt beside Oswald and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “There, there, little guy. It’s okay. I understand if you can’t do it.”

Oswald lifted his face and gave a small smile of his own. “Really? You mean it?”

“Nah, I’m just kidding. You’re a puss-bag,” said Antero before kneeing the dwarf in the forehead and sending him instantly into dreamland. From there a cacophony of noises swirled in Oswald’s brain. He couldn’t decipher whether or not they were the captives’ screams, police sirens, or just a bunch of bullshit from his head injuries. If this was the day he would die, he could die knowing at least one person in this world loved him.

Incelbordination, Chapter 3

Even though he was only three feet tall and south of a hundred pounds, Oswald Crow sent tremors throughout the punching bag like he was Mike fucking Tyson. The boxing gloves looked ridiculously large on his little hands, and for some it was a source of cheap entertainment. Whatever laughs he received at the gym were drowned out by the sounds of Phil Anselmo screaming “Bedroom Destroyer” in his ears. There was something euphoric about heavy metal strengthening Oswald’s punches against the sandbag.

He wasn’t just punching sand for the sake of it. He actually utilized decent footwork like all boxers should have done. He came at that thing from multiple angles and didn’t go too fast for fear of gassing himself out. The fact that Oswald had to learn these brutal techniques to begin with said a lot about why he would need them in life. Maybe that was why Antero was so keen on bringing him into Incelbordination. Heh, Antero. What a joke. He became a bigger joke when Oswald imagined the Matrix nut’s face superimposed on the punching bag.

The little warrior was so lost in his exercise routine that he failed to notice even the slightest chuckle behind him. He went for an overhead rabbit punch and his headsets accidentally slid off his dome. That was when the laughs became more obvious than a forest fire. Speaking of flames, Oswald’s face glowed bright red when he collected his MP3 player, turned around, and saw the source of the southern yuk-yuks. Of course, who else would it be? It was none other than muscle-headed high school tormentor Wacey Judge, who happened to be filming Oswald this whole time on his phone.

Watching his former bully laugh his ass off brought Oswald back to those old times when he was being stuffed in a locker, pushed over, held upside-down by the ankles, and called a litany of insults. If there was ever a time for that sweet green medicine, this would have been it, if for nothing else other than stamping the lit roll out in Wacey’s face. To Oswald’s way of thinking, such a red hot scar would be an improvement to his face.

“Hey, moron!” shouted Oswald. “This ain’t high school anymore! You’ve got to grow the fuck up! Put away the goddamn phone and fuck off!”

“Grow up?” Wacey chuckled. “Isn’t that what I should be telling you? You looked like a baby back then and you look like one now! Goddamn, Infinite Elgintensity’s going to roast the shit out of you tonight!”

“I don’t think so, you fucking retard!” belted Oswald as he threw his gloves to the ground and stomped towards his bully, not a hint of fear in the dwarf’s eyes. “Give me the goddamn phone!” He tried to reach up for it, but Wacey kept pulling it higher out of reach, prompting laughs from the “innocent bystanders”.

Patting Oswald on the head, the bully said, “Don’t worry, little guy, I’m sure there’s a ladder around here somewhere. Anybody got a step stool this guy can use? How about a stripper’s pole? How about an elevator?” The bystanders got even louder laughs out of Wacey’s “comedy” and a singular tear formed in Oswald’s red puffy eyes. “What, are you going to cry, little baby? Should I give you my thumb to suck on?”

Sure enough, Wacey held out his thumb and made a mockingly sorrowful face at his little victim while the entire gym watched and did nothing. Another tear rolled down Oswald’s cheek, but this wasn’t out of sadness. This was out of pure white hot rage stemming from years of abuse from someone who didn’t deserve to be as gigantic as he was. Why couldn’t Oswald have muscles like that? Why couldn’t he be a chick magnet too? All the jealousy, all the trauma, all the sickness, they led to a do-or-die situation for the little warrior.

“Fuck you, Wacey!” shouted Oswald with more lung power than he was capable of. He then hauled back and punched his bully right in the dick, doubling the giant over and causing the audience to gasp in horror. The dwarf’s next punch was an uppercut to Wacey’s square jaw, hurting his hand in the process, but make no mistake about it, the bully got the worst of that exchange. The muscle head squatted backwards against the wall dizzy and stunned.

“Fuck yeah! You just got your ass kicked by a midget! How does that shit feel, Wacey?! I said how does that fucking feel?! This shit’s been a long time coming! Woo!” screamed Oswald triumphantly while holding his bruised knuckles in the air.

“What the hell’s going on around here?!” said an equally muscular gym teacher, who burst into the room with his hands on his hips. “I’ll be damned.”

Pointing an accusatory finger at the teacher, Oswald laid into him with, “Nice of you to show up, Spongebob Square Jaw. It’s funny how you were nowhere to be seen when this jackass was having a laugh at me. Story of my life, isn’t it?!”

The gym teacher stomped towards Oswald, knelt down, and grabbed him harshly by the shoulders. “Listen up, you sick bastard. I don’t care what names you were called as a teenager. I don’t care how rough you’ve had it. The minute you attack another gym member is when I have to step in and call the shots. You beat the holy hell out of Mr. Judge here. I have to do something about it.”

“What are you going to do, ban me for life?”

“Damn right I’m going to ban you for life! Get your violent ass out of my gym!” ordered the gym teacher while standing up and pointing towards the door.

“That’s fine with me, you six foot dip shit!” snapped Oswald. “I wasn’t planning on coming back anyways! You’re harboring this piece of shit and turning your gym into a fucking Black Site! I’d be better off at Planet Fitness eating pizza until I have a heart attack! You hear that everyone? Don’t come to this gym anymore! I heard pedophiles like to hang out in the shower areas!”

“Get out of here, you twerp!” commanded the teacher.

“And don’t eat at their smoothie bar either! There’s a big fucking rat’s nest in the kitchen!”

“Are you going to leave or do I have to toss you out of here myself?!”

Waving him off, Oswald said, “Don’t worry, Lex Luger, I’ll be out of here in a second. I just want to make sure Wacey here is awake when someone tells him that his name rhymes with Stacy.” That earned a collective gasp from the crowd and a sullen expression from the gym teacher.

The pugilist dwarf raised his bruised middle finger to the sky as he trudged out of the gym. He closed the door behind him and ran out of there as fast as he could, as if the adrenaline would be the least bit effective at masking his tear-stained face. He looked like a badass in that gym, but he felt like the little baby Wacey accused him of being this whole time.

Oswald stopped running and collected his breath in the common area near an empty stone table. The tears wouldn’t stop coming. His mask of toughness was melting like ice cream in this goddamned heat. He didn’t bother to look up to see if anybody was watching him and he didn’t care at this point. First Antero Magnus, then Valerie Sand, and now Wacey Judge could be added to the list of shit-heels who made his college career a miserable one.

The little person pulled himself onto the stone bench and laid his face in his tiny arms. If he earned any laughs from the other students, it would have been a testament to their ignorance, he was convinced. What kind of song on his MP3 player could heal his blues? The better question for him to ask was what kind of green drug was more powerful than the most emotional Pink Floyd song?

Oswald reached in his trench coat pocket and pulled out another ready roll of Mary-Jane. He smiled and wiped away his tears at the sight of this beautiful medicine he was fortunate enough to have a prescription for. He frisked himself in search of his lighter, but goddamn it, he left it in his dorm room for the second time in a row.

He pounded the stone table in frustration and let even more tears pour down his bearded face. He secretly wished this whole college would burn to the ground just so he could have something to light his ready roll with. And then a familiar voice asked him a familiar question from the night before…

“Need a light?”

Incelbordination, Chapter 2

The morning sun blasted through Oswald’s window like a Martian heat ray. His eyes squinted tightly as he struggled to pull himself out of bed for English class. Valerie Sand was a cute teacher and Nikita Johnson was sweet to a fault, but neither of them were worth washing the smell of marijuana out of his hair and beard. Oswald was the most invisible person in that room most of the time, so he supposed it didn’t matter anyways. No shower, no dental hygiene, just a child’s trench coat and “Volcanic” by Death Angel to sooth his tired mind.

During the slow and bone-creaking trek to class, all Oswald could think about was Antero Magnus’s perverse words from the night before. According to the dwarf, the only thing he and Antero had in common was that they were both unloved by the world at large due to their physical appearances and social awkwardness. What was Oswald supposed to do, walk around on stilts? How about Dutch cloggers? How about platform disco shoes? Oswald thought about this so much that he almost smacked his head against the glass door leading into his English lecture for the day. Though exhausted and smelly he was, he made it to class on time as he normally did. At least he did something right.

Oswald took his seat in the back of the classroom like he always did and got a bird’s eye view of the other occupants, namely Valerie the teacher and Nikita the student. He loved how Nikita’s long blond hair flowed so freely across her shoulders. He loved Valerie’s striking blue eyes underneath her thick-rimmed glasses (much prettier than Antero’s cyan eyes by a country mile). And because this was spring quarter and the sun was constantly out, there was always Oswald’s favorite outfit combination on any woman: shorts and sandals. The best part about this? Exposing legs and feet wasn’t considered legally indecent. It was like free porn to him.

Though it was hard to take in his two favorite girls’ beauty when anxiety was the dominant emotion. If only Oswald could smoke a ready roll right here and then. Why did class have to be so long and drawn out? Why couldn’t Valerie Sand give back their short stories now? Did she delight in watching stomachs turn into heavy knots? Did she enjoy the collective feeling of throats drying up? Oswald needed to know his grade now, damn it! The lecture was just extracurricular BS since he never spoke up during conversations anyways (too shy and too introverted). He kept glancing at the digital clock and the numbers kept laughing in his face as they moved slowly.

An hour later and all was right with the world again. The lackluster lecture was over and Valerie began passing back assignments with red ink adorning the pages. Some pages had more of it than others and Oswald hoped and prayed his wasn’t drooling with it like a bloody wound. As students (Nikita included) received their papers back, they exited the classroom with a little more pep in their step. And wouldn’t you know it, Oswald received his last. Scrambling through the pages to see what his grade was, his world went blacker than Antero’s Matrix pills.

There it was in cherry red ink staring him in the face like a pair of angry eyes: a C- for his shy guy romance story. Oswald didn’t even bother reading the critiques. All he saw was the third letter of the alphabet glaring at him, mocking him, laughing at him, daring him to crack under pressure and cry like a bitch. That wasn’t a minus sign next to the C; that was a middle finger. Or a gun barrel, which would have looked completely natural in the dwarf’s slack-jawed mouth.

“Mr. Crow?” said Valerie. No response. “Mr. Crow?” she said again. “Oswald!” That last spark finally jolted the dwarf awake from his living educational nightmare. Adjusting her glasses, the teacher kindly said, “Class is over. You’re free to go.”

Not knowing what the hell to say, Oswald hopped out of his seat and trudged towards the glass door, tossing his paper in the garbage on the way there.

“What are you doing?!” asked Valerie before fishing the paper out of the receptacle. Dusting the corn chip dust off of it, she said, “No, no, no, no, no! You’re not throwing this away. You’ve got notes here that you need to read. That’s how you improve in my class: by accepting criticism gracefully.” No response from Oswald, just a painful glare. “Look, I know you’re frustrated and all, but if you want to put an end to the frustration, you have to improve your writing. This C- isn’t going to go away just because you’re not happy about it. I’d be upset too, but throwing away your homework isn’t the answer.”

She attempted to hand the paper back to Oswald, but the dwarf shook his head and tried to leave once again, only to have a hand on his shoulder stop him from doing so. “Oswald, please just take the paper.”

After a while of hesitation, the dwarf snatched the paper and skimmed over the critiques. He could have sworn he edited the hell out of this story before handing it in. But the one comment staring him dead in the eye tensed his muscles: the implication that he didn’t have enough experience in the subject of romance to write a story about it. “Thanks for reminding me, Valerie. I wasn’t sure I would have remembered that otherwise.”

“Hey! Look at me!” retorted Valerie. “That’s basic storytelling, Mr. Crow: if you’re going to write about something, you have to know what you’re talking about. If you don’t have firsthand experience with the subject, you should at least research it. A simple trip to Google would have raised this grade to your liking.”

“I don’t drink, but that doesn’t mean I can’t spot a drunk when I see one.”

“Oh please, I’ve heard that excuse time and time again, Mr. Crow. Even the best authors have to do research every now and then. And just so there’s no confusion, when you’re writing sex scenes, Porn Hub doesn’t count as research.”

Oswald tossed his paper to the ground like the proverbial gauntlet and said, “Oh, so you’re a comedian now? You think my loneliness is fucking hilarious? You want to talk about having experience, that’s it, man. They don’t get more experienced than me when it comes to being fucked off.”

Valerie knelt down and cupped her student’s upper arms in her hands. “Listen to me…I don’t like the way you’re talking to me right now. You made a few mistakes in this paper and you have to pay for them. I’m not going to give you straight A’s just because you can’t take a little criticism. The purpose of college isn’t to feed your ego. It’s to help you grow into a better person. You have the syllabus from this class handy somewhere, I’m sure. I grade my students based not on their overall ability, but on their willingness to improve. Right now, you think you’re the hottest thing since Stephen King. You need to bring it down a notch.”

No response from Oswald, just his chin tucked to his chest. Valerie said, “You can be angry all you want and part of me doesn’t blame you for it. But the way you’re talking to me right now? You’re giving me the impression that you’re owed something in life. You think you’re owed A+’s. You think you’re owed compliments. I bet you even think you’re owed romance.”

That last comment caused Oswald to shrug his shoulders out of Valerie’s grasp. “You know what? Give me the paper. Give me the goddamn paper. If I stuff it in my backpack, will that make you happy?”

Handing it back, the teacher said, “That depends. Are you going to actually read the comments and take them to heart or are you just going to take it to the incinerator and turn all of your hard work to ashes? Yeah, I said it: you worked hard on that paper; nobody’s doubting that. I’m not saying you’re lazy. I’m saying your hard work is misguided. You need to listen to me. You need to listen to your fellow students. The knock on your romantic skills isn’t that you have scraggly hair or are three feet tall. It’s that you push everybody away. That’s the vibe I got from your main character. Please, Oswald…listen to reason.”

Oswald reluctantly stuffed the essay in his backpack and tried once again to head out the door. “Just one more thing,” Valerie called out to him. “It would help your future grades handsomely if you spoke up in class discussions rather than stare at my legs and feet.”

The dwarf’s face glowed bright red as he slowly closed the glass door behind him. He frantically checked down at his crotch to see if he had an involuntary boner. Though he didn’t, he pulled his trench coat over his body anyways and speed walked as far away from the classroom as he could. Speed walking turned into jogging. Jogging turned into running. He needed a safe space from this never-ending embarrassment, which should have been a no-brainer considering colleges these days were full of them.

The gym! That was it! He could just throw a few punches at the sand bag for an hour or so. Heh, sand bag. Valerie’s last name was Sand. How poetically appropriate. At least Oswald’s boxing punches couldn’t be marked with a C-. For a little guy, he sure had dynamite in his fists. He had to, especially if his old high school bully Wacey Judge was anywhere nearby.