“You know, for somebody who has a lot of shit to talk about,
you’re certainly taking your time in starting the conversation,” said Oswald
with his arms crossed.
“It’s called making you sweat,” explained Detective Barry.
“From the looks of how I found you, I figured you’d be sweating bullets right
now. That’s okay, we can wait a little longer.”
Oswald nervously fidgeted with his fingernails while Mia
remained cool behind the wheel of her car. The little guy noticed that they’d
passed his dorm several times during this ride. His only haven for smoking weed
and shaking off the jailbait blues was a short walk away and all this detective
wanted to do was wait for him to break. Oswald picked at his fingernails some
more until they were too short to do so. Next he picked at his hangnails. Then
he picked skin off of his chapped lips.
With nothing left to fidget with and a big enough craving
for marijuana, Oswald finally snapped. “Alright, what the hell do you want from
me anyways? Do I need a lawyer or some shit?”
“I’m not sure, Mr. Crow, do you? Is there a secret you’re
trying to protect from me? I haven’t even said a word yet and already you’re
asking for legal counsel. What’s on your mind, buddy?”
Oswald put his balled up fist in his mouth and made
Marcellus Wallace pawn shop noises from Pulp Fiction, which gave Mia a good
chuckle. “So you’re a comedian now? I didn’t think someone as sad as you had a
sense of humor in them.”
The dwarf made a flat tire sound and said, “Sad? Come on,
you’re better than this, Detective.”
“Better than what, exactly? Are you saying I don’t do my own
research? Are you projecting yourself onto me when you imply that? I’ve seen
your creative writing grade, buddy. I’ve seen a lot of things about you.”
“Great, first Antero’s a fucking stalker and now you.”
Oswald immediately cupped his mouth shut upon revealing his “associate’s” name.
“Ah-ha! I knew it!” said Mia while pointing a finger at her
passenger. “There is something going on with you and Antero Magnus.”
“…Who?”
“Oh, nothing. I just figured since you blurted out a random
Finnish name that you’d probably know at least one guy who fits that profile.”
Oswald was mentally kicking himself for his blunder while Mia continued. “I’m
not stupid, Mr. Crow. I know more about this case than you’ll ever figure out
in your lifetime. Yes, in case you haven’t figured it out, there’s a case being
built against Antero Magnus. We don’t have much to go on, but we’ve got hunches
here and there. Word of advice, little guy: stay as far away from Incelbordination
as you possibly can.”
Shaking his head, Oswald retorted, “You don’t have to tell
me twice, lady. I already know how much of a scumbag he is.”
“Oh, really? Is that why you happened to be eating outside
McDonald’s instead of inside where there’s air conditioning?”
“Aw, shit,” said Oswald while holding his head in his hand.
“Well, if you’ve really seen everything, you’d know that I didn’t do shit while
I was out there. I gave that chick the food and then I took off. I swear that’s
all that happened.”
“Don’t worry, I believe you. What I don’t believe is that
you had that idea all by yourself. Antero’s pulling your strings, buddy. I know
it. I’ve had to arrest a few of his Incelbordination minions for actually going
through with the business deal. The one thing they all had in common was a
McDonald’s gift card. Anybody can have one, but when you spend thirty dollars
on supposedly just yourself, that’s awfully suspicious.”
Oswald slapped his palms against his knees and asked, “What
do you want from me?”
“You don’t have to give me anything, Oswald, except for
maybe a promise that you won’t join Incelbordination. Even then I don’t think
I’d be able to sleep at night. The thing about Antero’s logic is that it’s
seductive to young people like you. It was designed to be seductive. It’s
easier to use women as scapegoats rather than face your own problems head on.
It’s convenient. The only problem is, when you take that black pill, you might
as well be chugging bleach. If you join Incelbordination, Antero will
radicalize you until there’s nothing left of your ability to think for
yourself.”
Oswald tucked his chin to his chest and said, “I’m not worth
saving, Detective.”
“See? That’s the kind of talk I’d expect from a young man
who’s become indoctrinated. Involuntary Celebates, or Incels, are all brought
together by their low self-esteem. They’re so convinced that they’re ugly that
they lash out at the wrong people. Person-to-person, the only way you could
ever be ugly is if you allowed yourself to be brainwashed by these people.”
Folding his arms, Oswald sighed, “Inner beauty doesn’t mean
shit anymore, Detective. If it did, I wouldn’t have had the shit kicked out of
me in high school and middle school. Being a midget isn’t fun and there’s
nothing humorous about it. If I didn’t learn how to box, I’d probably be dead
right now. That’s how bad shit has gotten. I don’t want to be a violent person,
but these normies are putting me in a situation where it’s either me or them.”
“I’m sensing that you don’t have a whole lot of role models
in your life,” said Mia solemnly.
“You are very, very perceptive, Detective Barry. Then again,
you wouldn’t be a very good cop if you weren’t.”
Putting an empathetic hand on Oswald’s shoulder, Mia said,
“Look, I know you haven’t had the easiest life, as you’ve just described.
You’re desperate for someone to show you the way. I’m telling you right now,
that someone isn’t Antero Magnus. He doesn’t care about you or your need for
love. He cares only about his own violent agenda. Please, promise me that you
won’t go anywhere near him.”
“I can promise I won’t go anywhere near him, but I can’t
promise he won’t go anywhere near me. I don’t seek him out on purpose, you
know.”
“I know you don’t, Mr. Crow. I know how sneaky he can be.
And just to give you a heads up, if Antero ever does bother you again, he’s
going to bring up his deceased Uncle Tuomas and use him for a sympathy ploy.”
“So his uncle was the keyboardist for Nightwish?”
Mia patted Oswald on the back and chuckled. “Oh, Mr. Crow,
you slay me. But on a serious note, anybody who has ever joined
Incelbordination knows about the Uncle Tuomas card. Antero is going to tell you
that he committed suicide because he was falsely accused of rape and therefore
lost his reputation. While false accusations happen far too often for my
comfort, this time our police work was right on the money. Don’t let Antero
spin it in any other direction. You can research this story yourself if you
don’t believe me. Oh, I forgot, you’re not known for your research skills. But
hey, this time it’s important.”
“Look, Detective, I appreciate your concern about my
wellbeing, but if you’re not going to charge me with any serious offense, then
I suggest you take me to my dorm. I’m not exactly feeling the love right now.”
“Understandable,” said Mia. “But I’m just going to give you
fair warning right now: if you join Incelbordination and you do something
illegal under their watch, I’ll have no choice but to arrest you as a
terrorist. Terrorists get worse treatment under the law than regular criminals,
which is a fucking disgrace to our justice system considering how many innocent
Middle Easterners are in Guantanamo
Bay
Just like that, the joyride was over and Mia parked outside
Oswald’s dorm building. The little guy wasted no time in getting out of the car
and hurrying to his door, but not without shaking his head at Mia telling him
to, “Have a nice evening.”
He rushed to his bedroom and scrambled for a ready roll in
his underwear drawer. Low and behold, he finally found his Zippo lighter. He
smiled insanely at the hardware before scurrying outside for a smoke. He
shifted his eyes left and right to make sure neither Mia Barry nor Antero
Magnus were going to sneak up on him. He even made abrasive “booga-booga-booga”
noises just to make sure it was only him and the night air. Once he was one
hundred percent certain the coast was clear, he leaned back against the wall
and lit up his joint.
Relaxation took over his body as he gently slid down on his
ass enjoying his smoke. How he loved this magic medicine and the way it made
the night sky look like a Pink Floyd laser show. He needed this private time to
himself. He needed his beautiful weed. Tomorrow was Saturday, which meant he
had all the time in the world to sort out his problems. Maybe he would fix up
his C- paper, maybe he would just set the fucking thing on fire now that he
found his Zippo. Either way, Oswald needed this weekend like any other stressed
out college student did.
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