Manliest of Mansplainers

Alexis Harper power-walked down the hallway towards the interrogation room, pants suit on, dreadlocked hair up, and a mean face that could turn any alpha male to stone like the eyes of Medusa. She paid no mind to the other officers giving her funny looks like she didn’t belong in this game. Manliest of mansplainers. That’s all they are, she thought. She looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear and entered the interrogation room, where Ryland Hamm sat on the opposite end of the table looking like testosterone on a stick.

Mr. Hamm had a smug look complementing his square jaw, slicked back blond hair to give off that alt-right vibe, and a red flannel shirt that he probably wrestled a lumberjack for if Alexis didn’t know any better. Despite being grossly outmatched in the size department, Alexis never lost her angry swagger and slowly took a seat across from her suspect, as if to draw out any anxiety Ryland might have had. She gave the potential anxiety an adrenaline boost when she laid her gun on the table and turned the safety off.

Alexis took several deep breaths through her nose to bring some more angry tension into this already prison-like room, white walls and barred window be damned. But the anxiety she hoped Ryland was having didn’t exist at all as shown by his equally cold and callous face. Breaking him down was going to be a chore, for sure. But it was a chore worth doing in her mind.

Her speech was slow and deliberate as she dressed down her suspect. “Listen to me, you little bitch…if at any point in this interrogation you try to reach across the table to hit me or grope me…I’m going to empty my gun all over your fucking face. You won’t be warned…You won’t get a chance to explain yourself…You won’t even get a chance to apologize…You touch me…you die…I know you don’t have a great deal of respect for women, so I thought I’d put that out to the universe beforehand…”

Ryland folded his arms. “Where I’m from, respect is earned.”

Alexis gave a sadistic smile. “I got bad news for you: we’re a LONG ways away from where you’re from. This ain’t jabip, my friend. This…this is my dungeon…and you are going to be my bitch today…” Ryland almost reached across the table, but thought better of it. “Good boy.

“Now…let me see if I’ve got this right…You left the bar at 10:30 last night…And that was when you shot the victim in the face…She’ll be buried in due time…but the thing is…we don’t even know this woman’s name…I don’t think you do either…All we know about her…is that you tried to give her a quote-unquote compliment…and it didn’t go as well as you wanted…What was that compliment, Ryland?”

“I want a lawyer.”

“Yeah…and you know what I want? I want Jamie Fraser from Outlander shackled naked to my bed…with a dildo in his mouth…and an electrified diaper on his crotch…Wait a minute…hold on a second…Did I just make a man feel worthless?” She poked her own chin in mock contemplation. “I could have sworn that I turned a three-dimensional human being…into nothing more than a sex object…It’s almost like…I did the exact same thing you did to that woman…”

Ryland shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “You feminazis are all the same. Can’t even take a compliment, so you Me Too our asses out of existence. I told her she looked sexy in those running shorts and you know what she said back? She said…’If you want to get laid so badly, there’s a perfectly good middle school down the road. They’re more your type.’ She slanders the shit out of me and it’s ME who’s in this room? How is that fair?”

“The reason you’re in this room, Ryland, is because you shot her in the face shortly afterwards. That’s why we have no idea who she is: her most unique features…were blown right off her body…”

“I did not shoot her, you slanderous bitch!”

“Then why did we find her…lying on the ground…with no face…and no brains…and not much of a skull left either? Why…did this woman have to die over a clever comeback? She didn’t owe you a damn thing, Ryland…No woman…owes you a damn thing…”

Ryland’s tone grew more intense the longer this interrogation drew out. “That’s what women are for, you dumb bitch. They have vaginas for a reason. What good is a vagina if you’re not going to use it?! Why don’t you crack open a bible every once and a while instead of reading SJW comic books where Wonder Woman has a pecker and Superman has a pussy.”

“Hmm…” Alexis leaned back in her chair and continued to touch her face like she actually gave a shit about Ryland’s incel rhetoric. “That sounds like a good idea…I used to have a bible around the house…But then…my husband had a really disgusting meal at Taco Bell…and…there was no toilet paper in the bathroom…and…long story short…we don’t have a bible anymore…”

Ryland raised his trembling fist like he was going to strike Alexis, but then she reached for her gun and said, “Ah-ah-ah! I don’t think so, buddy...Don’t even try it…Don’t…fucking…test me!”

There was a knock at the door and a couple of uniformed police officers entered despite not having confirmation from Alexis to come in. She didn’t even look them in the eye. She just gave the jittering Ryland an arrogant smirk like she achieved what she set out to do. “He’s all yours, boys…Ryland Hamm…is our murderer. You’re welcome…”

One of the officers shook his head. “Lady? You don’t even work here.”

“WHAT?!” screamed Ryland. He clutched his own face with both hands and squeezed in anger. His breathing was labored and deep, his muscles vibrated, and his eyes bulged. “All this time, I’ve been interrogated by this feminazi and you guys did nothing to stop her?! She wouldn’t even let me have a lawyer!”

“Mr. Hamm, there’s no need to shout,” said one of the officers while raising his hand defensively.

“It’s a free country! I’ll shout if I damn well want to! I’m a real American and I say that shit proudly!”

“Of course you’re a proud American!” Alexis retorted. “Everybody knows that! You’re white…you’re a man…and you’re a republican, no doubt…Those three things alone would have ensured you a short stay in a county jail…as opposed to a lifetime in prison for murdering a woman who didn’t want to fuck you…tell me I’m wrong, boys. Go ahead. Tell me this privileged white male republican would have spent the rest of his life in prison. Go on…lie to me…”

No response from the cops.

“You all should be thanking me instead of chastising me,” said Alexis. “I’m like those undocumented immigrants you fear so much…I’m doing the job…that nobody else wants to do!”

Ryland had enough. He reached across the table like he wanted to clobber Alexis and she shot him in the head for it. The exploding brains and skull wasn’t nearly as impressive as what he did to the unknown woman in running shorts, but she laughed nonetheless as officers restrained and cuffed her.

“You all saw that, didn’t you?” chuckled Alexis. “He tried to hit me, so I killed him in self-defense. I bet he would have used the self-defense excuse to keep his ass out of prison because his fragile little ego was broken. Then again…he wouldn’t have gone to prison anyways…”

The cops hauled her out of the interrogation room and down the hall. “You’re under arrest for impersonating an officer.”

“What about murder?” she asked. “Are you going to add murder to my rap sheet or are you basically admitting defeat on that one?”

“You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you take advantage of that.”

“Kind of like how Ryland took advantage of that woman, right? You’re still going to give her a proper burial, aren’t you?”

“SHUT…THE FUCK…UP!”

Alexis grinned as she was being taken to a holding cell. “Yep, you’re definitely not impersonating an officer now. Y’all are the real deal.”

Dirty Laundry

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

“Good to be here, Aaron.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m warning you, Mr. Riggs….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, whatever you say…Harlock!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Punished For Nothing

VERSE 1

The rift between crime and punishment

Is the rift between democracy and government

A slap on the wrist for a child rapist

A lifetime in prison for the drugs taken

Beaten and tortured for freedom of speech

What lessons are we supposed to teach?

That you’re fucked no matter what?

Unless you’ve got over a billion bucks?

CHORUS

Punished for nothing! X4

VERSE 2

Protesting peacefully in a crowded street

Pepper spray burns like hellfire heat

Bones broken by a pair of booted feet

A life sentence for daring to question

The authority that screwed you over

No punishment for the country’s owners

Administrative leave for those who smash

The skulls of innocents who’re treated like trash

CHORUS

Punished for nothing! X4

VERSE 3

White man, black man, what’s the difference?

One is automatically declared innocent

The other is treated like he’s second class

Yet we refuse to acknowledge the racist past

Calling the cops for doing mundane tasks

Sparing those who kiss the authority’s ass

One nation under fraud, justice for none

It’s all just a joke to you, all in good fun

CHORUS

Punished for nothing! X4

FINAL VERSE

They always tell us to not break the law

But even innocents can have a broken jaw

Even a jaywalker can eat a fucking bullet

The American Dream has been stolen

"Born a Crime" by Trevor Noah

BOOK TITLE: Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood

AUTHOR: Trevor Noah

YEAR: 2016

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Apartheid Memoir

GRADE: Extra Credit

Before he replaced Jon Stewart as the host of The Daily Show, Trevor Noah had a difficult childhood in both Apartheid and post-Apartheid South Africa. Having a white father and a black mother, Trevor was already the product of racist laws that could have kept him and his parents imprisoned for several years. He spent most of his childhood in hiding to evade the police, which included not being around his white father as often as he wanted in order to keep the subterfuge alive. With poverty, an abusive stepfather, and life in general working against him, Trevor still managed to keep his sense of humor intact with the help of his jovial, yet strict mother, who he credits as his number one fan.

This glimpse into Trevor Noah’s life is as educational as it is entertaining. It’s a firsthand look into how structural racism worked in Apartheid-ruled South Africa and how it’s still alive in the world today. Racism isn’t just about calling somebody the N-word or beating black and colored people to death. It’s psychological torture as well. The whites in charge purposefully divided their non-white peers into separate groups and treated them as less than human. The education was watered down, the living conditions were crappy, poverty was by design, and violence became a social norm. None of that changed after Apartheid was over, in the same way that structural racism never ended after slavery in America. You can change the laws all you want, but the damage has already been done. The damage continues to be dealt in subtle ways behind the scenes of politics. The one thing we learn from history is that we learn nothing from history.

Because Trevor grew up with an abusive stepfather named Abel, his memoir also gives us a glimpse into how psychologically torturous domestic violence is. Abel was regarded as a nice guy around town who would always help out those in need. That was the disguise he needed in order to secretly beat Trevor and his mother and get away with it every time. Trevor’s mother was met with skepticism from the police every time she tried to file a report. Abel would always be apologetic and life would go on happily for a while until the next beating. The scary thing about him was that he was always calm and collected when he struck his family. He wasn’t as psychotic as The Joker or dramatic as Darth Vader. He was just a regular guy with a good reputation outside of home. Even when he would drink himself into stupidity, he always came across as a cool guy. Those are the worst kinds of villains that are too realistic for superhero movies. Trevor Noah was haunted by this man’s evil deeds for many years to come. Abel is still walking around South Africa today as a free man. How sick is that?

Through all of the racism, violence, and troubled times, Trevor Noah never let any of those things strip away his individuality, morals, or sense of humor, all of which he got from his loving disciplinarian mother. She always taught him how to question everything and never lose sight of who he was. And that’s the thing with Apartheid: the education quality for blacks and colored people is significantly reduced for the sake of maintaining the status quo. Without an educational mother who bought him books and allowed him to explore the world beyond his impoverished home, Trevor wouldn’t be the well-informed man he is today. There are none so blind as those who will not see, and Trevor Noah’s eyes were wide open. He had a rough childhood, but without it, his worldview would have been watered down to where he could never fill Jon Stewart’s shoes, let alone live his own way. Trevor lives life with no regrets and that’s something we all need to learn if we’re to move forward.

The eye-opening educational aspects as well as the humorous writing style make Born a Crime a must-read for anybody who wants to explore the world without actually being in the crossfire of South African racism. Trevor Noah went through hell so that he could nourish the world with love and thoughtfulness. His story is genuine and his emotions are passionate. He could never be bitter, because bitterness would strip away everything he worked so hard to become. An extra credit grade is what this book deserves, nothing less, maybe more.

Shadow Hawk

VERSE 1

Shadow Hawk! Let your soul fly free!

Become the destroyer you were meant to be!

Shadow Hawk! Bring darkness to this land!

Bury those fuckers beneath the dirt and sand!

Shadow Hawk! Take back what’s yours!

Even if you have to fight a thousand wars!

Shadow Hawk! Set the world on fire!

Make them call you their immortal messiah!

CHORUS 1

With dirty blankets and loaded guns

They slaughtered daughters and murdered sons

Smothered mothers with dirt, enslaved the fathers

Shadow Hawk! You’re our only author!

VERSE 2

Conquerors! Your day has finally arrived!

To be shot with arrows and butchered with knives!

Conquerors! Run while you still have a chance!

Never mind the rotten smell running down your pants!

Conquerors! You’ve already lost this war!

Shadow Hawk can smell the fear oozing from your pores!

Conquerors! Open season has begun!

We could show you mercy, but where’s the fucking fun?

CHORUS 2

With dirty blankets and loaded guns

You slaughtered daughters and murdered sons

Smothered mothers with dirt, enslaved the fathers

Conquerors! You shouldn’t have crossed the waters!

BRIDGE

Sacrifice!

Pay the price!

Shadow Hawk!

It’s time to rock!

Conquerors!

Slaughterers!

Vengeance is ours!

Take back the power!

CHORUS 3

With dirty blankets and loaded guns

History’s lessons rotted in the sun

Smothered graves with dirt, enslaved the sheep

But the Shadow Hawk will never sleep!

Open a book before you open your lips

This is bigger than the .45’s on your hips

This is bigger than what you see on TV

Because staying comfortable is too easy!

Milk Bottle Supermodel

VERSE 1

You have no reason to bitch and complain

Yet you still do it whenever you want fame

The body of a model and the face of an angel

Taking bloody shots from a sniper’s angle

You can call it bratty, you can call it entitled

But evil bitchiness is where it will be filed

History is not on your side and you know it

Try to fight it and you’re just going to blow it

CHORUS

Milk! Bottle! Super! Model! X4

VERSE 2

You’re a disgrace to your whole generation

You’re not even worth quick masturbation

You can’t get ratings for your own station

You can’t convince the entire fucking nation

That you’re more than a fireball of rage

That you’re more than a puppet on stage

That you’re better than the minimum wage

That you’re wise beyond your millennial age

CHORUS

Milk! Bottle! Super! Model! X4

VERSE 3

We see right through your tainted beauty

What we see makes us pissed and moody

A demonic soul with a heart full of holes

A hellish dwelling stacked high with coals

You could blame your parents or yourself

The way you think isn’t good for your health

Devils in one ear, drill sergeants in the other

We’re stronger than the fools you try to smother

CHORUS

Milk! Bottle! Super! Model! X4

FINAL BRIDGE

You can call it privilege, you can call it promise

You can call it ego, you can call it solace

No matter the words that you choose

You know in your heart you’re going to lose!

Fairytale

Steve Mercer and Joey Mitchell spent the last thirty minutes staring at each other with angry frowns and fiery eyes, like they wanted to kill each other. Steve stood at one end of the holding cell still dressed in his wedding tuxedo and his wife sat at the bench across from him still in her cake-stained wedding dress. Steve had a silent and passive aura about him while Joey had passion and hot lava flowing through her veins.

At any moment, she could have screamed like a demon and strangled her would-be husband to where his head burst like a pimple. But instead, she chose to let her words be her fists of fury. “I can’t fucking believe you right now, Steve. All of that money spent and all of that frustrating planning went to waste. I really thought you were the one for me. And then you said, ‘I do not’ at the very last minute. Our families brawling afterwards was the icing on the cake. And yet, you have nothing to say for yourself right now.”

While rubbing his aching temples, Steve said, “Look, babe, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“That’s been your answer for every one of our arguments, Steve!” shouted Joey as she shot up from her seat. “It’s like you don’t give a shit about anything anymore! I might as well have been marrying a zombie at that wedding!”

“Please stop yelling, you’re making my head hurt,” said an exhausted and defeated Steve as he continued to give himself a head massage.

“No, I’m not going to stop yelling! I’m pissed off! You talk about your head hurting?! Well, I’m hurting too, asshole! I feel like any second now I’m going to burst into tears and you’re just going to stand there and do nothing about it! You’re a coward! You’re a goddamn coward, Steve!” shouted Joey as she pounded her fists to her sides.

“You want to see some passion, you crazy bitch?!” shouted Steve, prompting his now fearful wife to sit back down on the bench. “You want some fire?! You want some energy?! You’ve got it, babe!”

After a few angry breaths, he continued his oratory with, “You want to know why I said no at that altar? Fine, I’ll tell you why! Before we decided to get married, we’ve had nothing but love for each other. We kissed, we hugged, we made sweet monkey love on your couch, and we said, ‘I love you’ every damn day! And then after we got engaged, that’s when your so-called stress kicked in and we had nothing but fights to show for it. Every damn day was an argument about something whether it was leaving food on the table, not doing a certain chore correctly, or not having enough money for a cup of coffee. You know, the little things in life!”

“Wow, you’ve never really had a girlfriend before have you, Steve!” Joey fired back. “If you did, you would know that arguments happen all the time in relationships! That’s how problems get solved! Relationships require a little something called work! Even though we fought a lot during the wedding planning, I still loved you for everything you are!”

“Really? Because you had a funny way of showing it, that’s for sure!” shouted Steve while throwing his arms around in anger. “I always thought that romance was supposed to play out like a fairytale! I actually believed in happily ever after and making love until the end of time! And then you came along and destroyed that for me! Instead of solving your problems peacefully, you decided yelling at me every five minutes was the answer! Well, I may be the only one in this world who believes in fairytales, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong!”

Joey stood back up with her arms folded and said, “I really hate to burst your little fantasy bubble, Steve, but fairytale romances don’t exist! You spend way too much time with those novels and Disney movies of yours and you actually think that’s how love works! I don’t fight with you because I hate you, Steve! I fight with you because I love you! I’m fighting to keep our relationship together!” Her eyes welled up with tears and she wiped a few of them a way with her manicured finger. “I still have feelings for you, Steve. Please, don’t leave me!”

“So is that really why people get together in the first place?” asked Steve in a low, but firm voice. “They just get together and fight each other? Well, if you want to fight all the time, join the UFC. Hell, you’ll get paid big sums of money to do what you love to do. And you don’t even have to give your heart away, that’s the best part! Me? It’s too late for someone like me. I actually believe in solving problems peacefully. I believe that frequent arguments lead to breakups and divorces. I believe that drama is uncomfortable to watch and even worse to be a part of. Maybe I do believe in fairytales too much. That doesn’t mean I’m crazy.”

Joey sat back down on the bench and let out a frustrated sigh. After a few long seconds of ducking her head and wiping her tears away, she said, “Here’s the deal, Steve. You don’t realize it right now, but I still love you even after you basically incited a riot between our families and got us in jail in the first place. But I’m not sure you love me back anymore. So I’m giving you an ultimatum: love me or leave me. If you love me, I will make you the happiest husband you could ever be. If you leave me, you won’t find your fairytale romance anywhere else because relationships don’t work like that. Either way, the ball’s in your court, buddy.”

Steve folded his arms and sighed before saying, “I need the rest of the night to think about this.”

“What is there to think about, Steve? It’s a simple question with two answers! How could it be that difficult?!” said Joey while flailing her arms in anger.

“Hey! Do you want me to make the right decision or not?!” shouted Steve, opening a rift of uncomfortable silence between boyfriend and girlfriend. “If you want an answer, wait until morning. Right now, my head feels like it’s been jammed in a vice and I’ve got bruises all over my body from your stupid family’s punches. We’ve done enough arguing for the evening. I just want to rest right now and clear my head. Is that so wrong? Or do you want to argue some more because fairytales don’t exist?”

Joey hung her head in silent sorrow while Steve laid down on the floor of the holding cell, where he would spend the rest of the evening snoozing away and sounding like a machinegun as he snored. Joey slept peacefully on her bench like she was at a comfortable hotel. A part of her wanted fairytales to exist. She wanted to have a seaside honeymoon with her husband and make love until the end of time while eating chocolate-covered strawberries. Her husband’s innocent ways put a small smile on her face. She hoped he would make the right decision by the time the morning sun shone through their cell.

When morning finally came, it wasn’t the brilliant orange skies that woke her up, but the sounds of war-like thunder followed by foggy visuals through her window. Even though Joey and Steve slept like rocks, they woke up so sore and stiff that sleeping on a bed of barbed wire would have been more comfortable. The argumentative couple cracked her joints and stretched their limbs before staring at each other blankly. Had Steve made his decision? Was he ready to accept the responsibilities of marriage or was he too much of a sucker for fairytales?

“Good morning, lovebirds,” said the police officer standing at the holding cell door. “Mr. Mercer, you’re free to go. Your family posted bail.” The cop opened the cell door and motioned for Steve to come over.

Steve dragged his stiff and aching body toward the door, holding his ribs like they had just taken a massive beating. Once freedom was within reach, he stopped for a minute and turned around to give Joey the most sorrowful look he could. Tears started forming in the bride’s eyes once more. She needed an answer so badly that anxiety was building up in her stomach and ice water was passing through her veins.

Steve looked down at his wedding band for the longest time before sliding it off of his finger and tossing it into Joey’s hands. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Not with you, not with anyone else. Romance sucks.” He turned heel and walked out the door without so much as a wave or a blown kiss.

Once the cell door closed behind him, Joey’s stomach felt like she had been punched with a loaded glove. Her heart felt like it was being ripped into confetti. Her eyes felt like they’d been gouged out as hot tears poured from her face. She let out an animalistic, “NO!!” and pounded the bench with her fists. She spent the next few minutes allowing her tears to dampen the concrete floor beneath her. Was there something to be said for fairytale endings? Did she and Steve really fight as much as he said they did? Is anybody else worth putting her trust into? So many questions, but no answers, only tears and red puffy eyes.

"Cowboys and Aliens" by Scott Mitchell Rosenberg

BOOK TITLE: Cowboys and Aliens

AUTHOR: Scott Mitchell Rosenberg

YEAR: 2006

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Western Science Fiction

GRADE: Pass

In the year 1874, Westward Expansion is in full effect in the state of Arizona. White settlers are purging the land of Indian tribes and claiming the territories as their own. In the middle of this conquest, a race of extra-terrestrial aliens crash lands in the desert and begins wiping out every human in their path, white or Indian. The only way for this new threat to be confronted is if the warring humans can put aside their differences and work together for the common good. They’ve already gotten a hold of some alien technology during the crash, so they might as well put it to good use and save the world from invasion.

My favorite part about this graphic novel has to be the blatant use of irony. White settlers were invading Indian territories only to have their world invaded by aliens. Maybe that’s what we need to solve the “immigration crisis” in this country: an alien invasion carried out by slimy green creatures with superior weaponry and technology. Maybe we just need to shown what kind of hypocrites we really are. This graphic novel is a good first step into exposing our beastly nature. Then again, some people like to shrug off hypocrisy claims with nationalistic or religious justifications. There’s just no reaching some people.

And here I thought the irony would be easier to swallow for those people considering how action-packed and violent this graphic novel is. If you’re going to be taught a lesson in getting along with your neighbors for a greater good, then it should at least be entertaining, which “Cowboys and Aliens” is. We’re Americans; we love violent entertainment. We like gunfights, martial arts, and science-fiction energy slinging. This graphic novel not only has all of that in their choreography, but the fight scenes are so frequent that it’s like riding a rollercoaster. The breaks are few and far between, so buckle up and get ready for the adrenaline rush your American blood so desperately craves.

As long as you’re going to read a graphic novel with violence and irony, you might as well read one with as many genres blended into it as possible. In addition to being bloodthirsty, we also have a nerdy side to us, though some people don’t like to admit it. Our nerdy sides get tickled whenever we read a book about genre mixing. In this case, it’s a combination of spaghetti westerns, hardcore action, and soft science fiction. UFC commentators say all the time that styles make fights. Gun-slinging cowboys and brawling Indians vs. hulking aliens with even better guns? That’s the kind of fight you’d want to see on pay-per-view. Maybe that’s why “Cowboys and Aliens” was adopted into a movie.

A quick read, deadly violence, and a bold political statement are all things you can expect from this graphic novel. Yes, it’s short. Yes, it ends too quickly (even though it is technically a complete story). So if you’re going to enjoy the ride, you’d better savor the adrenaline boost. In the words of heavy metal band In This Moment, “Welcome to the gun show!” A passing grade for a wonderful piece of graphic fiction. I don’t care what other readers say, because I loved the hell out of this book!