Matt Riddle: The Reason We're #SpeakingOut

 

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 16

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

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

“What’s yours?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t believe she hung herself.”

“Who?”

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

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

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

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

“…I am loved…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No…No…No! This isn’t possible!”

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

Incelbordination, Chapter 12

“It’s over…it’s all over…I’m dead…” Oswald silently mouthed as he sat in his jail cell awaiting whatever hell was coming his way. “Shit, I’m already in hell. I’ve been in hell ever since I was fucking born!” he ranted while attempting to punch the cell bars. He pulled back at the last minute after learning his lesson in the interrogation room. But that was where the learning ended for him. Even if he somehow was found not guilty for these pseudo crimes, he figured he’d get expelled from college in a heartbeat. Then what? Why all the hard work if it was just going to be ripped away from him? “This is bullshit!”

“Oh, please! Stop being such a baby. At least you’ll live another day,” said a familiar feminine voice from within the cell. Oswald hopped down from his bunk and got a better look at the shadows covering this woman’s face. It wasn’t a woman at all. It was the teenager from McDonald’s, complete with a black eye and scratches on her bare legs.

Referring to the “live another day” remark, Oswald asked, “What are you, a fucking fortune teller now?”

“No. I’m just stating the facts,” the girl said while sitting on her own bunker and swinging her aching feet. “It finally happened. I got picked up. At least you have a future of some kind. Me? I’ve lost everything. Can’t you tell how happy I am? Maybe I should try again at getting someone to buy a Hap-Hap-Happy Meal for me!” She swung her arm in mock joy to drive home her point.

“At least you’re not being accused of terrorism,” said Oswald with rolled eyes and folded arms.

“Terrorism, shmerrorism. As long as you didn’t do a damn thing, they can’t hold you forever. I’m the only one between the two of us who actually committed a crime. Meanwhile, my asshole client is probably partying it up somewhere. Nobody will tell me what happened to him.” The girl laid on her back and placed both hands behind her head in a vain attempt to relax, which was nearly impossible to do on these rock-hard beds.

“How do you know what I’m being accused of?”

“Because you wouldn’t shut up about it!” snapped the prostitute.

It finally dawned on Oswald that he had been muttering to himself this whole time while being oblivious to everyone around him. He was so anxious, distracted, and traumatized that he had been arguing with his demons rather than real people. The little guy held his head and whined, “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for some weed.”

“I suppose it’s better for you than what I was eating at McDonald’s.” Oswald gave her a confused stare before she clarified, “I meant the food, you nimrod.”

“Oh…of course…well…” He cleared his throat and also tried in vain to relax on his iron bed. He suddenly remembered that he was injured when the uncomfortable bed aggravated his lower back wounds. He clutched his spine and muttered “Ow!” multiple times.

“So tell me…why did you leave me back there?” the teenager asked. “Were you afraid of getting arrested? But now you’re already in jail, so how’s that working out for you? I could have used your help, you know.”

“Pfft! Help with what? I already gave you an ass load of food.” Oswald got an awkward stare from the teen and clarified, “Ass load is a figure of speech, you fool! I wouldn’t do that to you even if you paid me instead of the other way around.”

That got a giggle from the teenager. “My name is Jessica, by the way.” Extending her arm halfway across the cell, she said, “I’d shake your hand right now, but I don’t feel like moving around. As you can tell, I’m pretty banged up. You don’t look so hot yourself, little guy.”

“My name isn’t little guy. It’s Oswald. I’d shake your hand too, but my knuckles are fucked up from punching a glass door. No terrorist in his right mind would do that for a woman.”

Holding her hands up, Jessica said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa…there’s a woman in your life that I’m not aware of? And you came to McDonald’s looking for a good time?”

Oswald shrugged. “Eh, she’s not really my girlfriend. Then again, I’m not really boyfriend material. Too much baggage and not enough height to carry it all. I believe in certain terrorist circles, my type would be referred to as a manlet.”

“You know, you don’t need to hang around with people like that, Oz-Man.”

“Oz-Man? Never been called that before.”

“Get used to it, especially if you do someday hook up with a nice girl. Truth is, if Disney movies taught me anything, it’s that physical appearance is highly overrated. Sometimes all you have to do to win a woman’s heart is to be your sweet self.”

“Trust me, Jessica, I’m not sweet.”

“That’s because you don’t give yourself the chance to be. I still remember how nervous you were around me. You had all of this fast food to pay me with, which pretty much guarantees you a night of fun sex, and you still couldn’t steady yourself for just a few minutes. I’m not saying you have to be obnoxiously confident, but believing in yourself just a little bit might go a long way.”

Oswald sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know…”

Jessica sat up in her bed. “Oz-Man, look at me. You’re selling yourself shor…I mean…you’re not giving yourself enough credit. I don’t know what it is that’s holding you back, but you’ve got to let that shit go. Do you want to be miserable and angry along with the rest of the incels or do you want a little bit of happiness every now and then?”

Oswald sighed again and wiped a modicum of tears from his eyes. “Obviously, I want to be happy, but…”

“But nothing! Happiness is an inside job, don’t you know that? Believe it or not, there were times in my life when I was happy to be on this earth. I loved going to McDonald’s back when I didn’t have to hump anything that walked just for some chicken nuggets. They had a play place, a friendly clown, and some cool toys. Now…” Jessica wiped tears from her own eyes as well. “But no, go on, keep thinking that you’re miserable. Keep pretending that you’re the one who’s hurting.” The teen rolled over on her belly and sobbed silently into her pillow.

What the fuck am I doing here? Oswald thought. All of this legal trouble, all of this heartache, all of this sadness…for what? Sure, he was clinically depressed and anxious, but he knew in his heart of hearts he didn’t do enough for himself. Maybe there was truth in Valerie Sand giving him a C-. Maybe Nikita Johnson was right to take his pot away. Maybe Antero Magnus wasn’t much of a friend to begin with. And Wacey Judge? Well, he could just go fuck himself.

“Jessica…I’m sorry,” Oswald mouthed before being cut off by the sound of a baton banging against the bars. The sudden shock jolted the two cell mates into attention.

“Oswald Crow? You need to come with me now. It’s time to make a decision,” said the chunky police officer with his face covered in shadows.

Decision? What kind of decision? Oswald thought. He couldn’t help but give the guard a weird look on his way out of the cell. Was now the time to decide his plea? Did he have to choose which one of two sentences was the lesser evil? Did he have to choose whether he wanted to be prison raped or beaten to death? These were all unreasonable, yet solid questions, but the one thing Oswald couldn’t help but ask was, “Aren’t you a little out of shape to be a cop?”

Just like that a black hood was placed over his head, causing Oswald to thrash around despite his injuries. Documentaries he watched of water boarding, whipping, and suffocation in Gitmo flashed through his mind while various officers aided in keeping him stabilized. The dwarf was sure he wouldn’t survive such a hellhole. If this was his ticket to the afterlife, he’d rather live in misery despite Jessica’s young wisdom.

And then a familiar voice crept up from behind and asked Oswald a question he’d heard many times before: “Need a light?”

Incelbordination, Chapter 11

“Oswald Roman Crow (ORC?), you’re under arrest for drug possession and conspiracy to commit terrorism. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to legal counsel. If you cannot afford your own attorney, the government will provide you with a public defender. Do you understand each of these rights as I’ve read them to you?”

“…It’s eleven o’clock at night. Give me a fucking break.”

“Fair enough. Come on, let’s go.”

Still exhausted from his temper tantrum, Oswald couldn’t even find it in his soul to resist Detective Mia Barry’s arrest. Then again, how could he with all of his injuries? Even the tightness of his handcuffs counted as an injury to him. Things got so painful for him that he had to be given a piggyback ride to the cop car, which wasn’t nearly as humiliating under Nikita’s guidance. “Goddamn Nikita…” Oswald thought.

Mere minutes later, the dwarf found himself with fresh bandages staring across a steel table from Mia, whose arms remained folded and face remained stoic throughout this process. He could barely see over the table, but he felt every inch of his interrogator’s mile long stare. He didn’t have the disadvantage of seeing this horrifying look during their first car ride together. Now the dwarf’s lips were trembling as he tried his hardest not to break. He remembered the “making you sweat” line and tried to steel his nerves.

“…Drug possession…and conspiracy to commit terrorism…wow, Oswald. Wow! It finally gave me a reason to look at your file a little more carefully. I had no idea your middle name was Roman. Your initials are…”

“Save it, Detective, I’ve heard that joke a thousand times and I’m fucking sick of it!” The sudden loudness in his own voice sent a wave of hot pain through his body, bandages and antibiotics be damned.

“Okay, I can live with that,” said Mia, still stoic as ever. “But here’s what I can’t live with: locking up a young man like you over the world’s biggest mistakes. It’s my least favorite part of the job, but it must be done if we’re to get any answers regarding your connections.”

The dwarf gave a flabbergasted smile and shrugged. “Connections? What connections? I told you, I’ve got nothing to do with Incelbordination! We’ve been over this shit many times already! Sure, they gave me a chance, then I turned away as soon as I saw how sick these people really are! Write that in your little file!”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Crow, I plan on doing so. I also plan on writing all about how you refuse to cooperate with us because of your dirty little secret. You know the one. The secret you wouldn’t spill to one Nikita Johnson?”

“That bitch!” Oswald said in a low whisper.

“Excuse me?” said Mia with raised eyebrows.

“Look, I told her the same thing I tell everybody else when they see me smoke that shit: I have a prescription for it. I’m depressed and anxious. You can ask my doctor if you don’t fucking believe me!”

“Well, that’s funny,” said Mia as she gently cleared her throat. “Because when we tried to get in touch with your doctor, he appeared to be on vacation. His receptionist didn’t seem too eager to tell me where. I figured it was somewhere in Jamaica, South America, or maybe even Mexico. Maybe.”

“It’s one hundred percent legal, damn it!” Oswald pounded the desk with his fist and completely forgot it was bandaged up for a reason. The cries of pain suggested he was instantly reminded. “Fucking hell!”

“Well, if what you say is true, then you probably feel confident sharing this secret with Nikita. After all, she says you saved her life in that attack on your school. But it begs the question…why her life and not somebody else’s? There were other kids that needed saving just as much as she did. Why are you so attentive to Nikita?”

With high eye-brows, an offended Oswald asked, “Are you suggesting that I only rescued her because she’s hot? Do you think I’m that desperate for a girlfriend? I punched through a glass door just to get to her! My hands look like shit! They feel like shit too! I didn’t do it because I expected anything from her!”

“Of course you didn’t, Oswald. After all, she hardly notices you in that class. Well, she knows who you are now, but did she really know you at all during those first few weeks of spring quarter? She seemed to think the same thing everybody else thought: that you were just there to fade into the background. I bet that just eats you up inside. I bet that chills you to your involuntarily celibate bones.”

“This is fucking bullshit!” shouted Oswald, sending another tremor through his body. “Goddamn it!”

“You really should take the bass out of your voice, my friend. You should save that lung power for when you take another hit of Mary-Jane. I heard that’s a popular drug in prison.”

“No! You can’t lock me up! You can’t fucking do this!”

Leaning her face closer to Oswald’s, Mia angrily whispered, “I can do whatever I want to you, little man! I could ship you off to Gitmo if that’s what you so deserve. A terrorist is a terrorist no matter what color his or her skin is.” The dwarf took short, nervous breaths at that remark. He eased up a bit when Mia leaned back and talked in her normal voice again. “But I’m not going to do that to you. You already know too much about Incelbordination. You’re too valuable to me. Then again, I could always ask one of the chubsters in ski masks if you’re not willing to cooperate.”

Taking deeper breaths now, Oswald shrugged and said, “I don’t even know what I could help you with! If you actually did your homework on these guys, you’d know that they do their shit online! They don’t use the same chat room twice! That’s the whole point! They thrive on anonymity because they don’t want Dickless Tracys like you sticking their noses in their business! You act like you’ve never done this before, Detective!”

“And you act like you’ve never written an English paper before!” That shut up Oswald in a hurry. “You’re already chest deep in shit, which isn’t unusual for someone as tiny as you, but this time you’ve got to take shit seriously. We’ve seized your computer, just like we always do whenever we book someone. My tech guys are working diligently to see if there’s anything on your hard drive that will connect you to Incelbordination. If you’ve got something to tell me, say it now and make my tech guys’ job a lot easier.”

Oswald folded his arms and said, “Get me my lawyer.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of legal counsel in the morning. You’re probably going to need it.”

“What do you mean in the morning?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Mia stood up and knocked on the interrogation room door. “Take the suspect away.”

Oswald thrashed around in his chair as soon as two uniformed police officers entered the room with sadistic frowns on their faces. “No, wait a minute, you can’t do that!”

“I can’t what, Oswald? Get you your obligatory public defender? Are you sure you want to do this right now while you still know everything?” The dwarf said nothing and sunk in his metal chair. “You’re staying in jail for the night, my friend. Normally, you’d be back at your dorm in an hour or so, but you’re hiding something from me and I want to know what the fuck it is. Take him away, boys.”

The two cops grabbed Oswald by the wrists and guided him out of the room while snapping orders like, “Let’s go! Move it!” During his trek to the holding cell, Oswald tried to figure out what it was he was fighting for. He could have just confessed everything and hoped for an easy ending.

But he had dealt with cops before and knew it was all happy horseshit. The cops often took the side of his bullies during those more illegal assaults in high school. Apparently, the feelings of football stars and cheerleader girlfriends were more important than that of an involuntarily celibate midget.

Now his feelings mattered even less in this dark and dank jail cell. Just one puff of Mary Jane was all he was secretly asking for. One cloud of smoke to dry away his forming tears. One taste of sweet cannabis nectar to cleanse his palette and get him ready for the bologna sandwich he was sure to get. It would do wonders for his bodily pain as well as his emotional. Then again, pain was the police’s business and business was booming.

Incelbordination, Chapter 10

Oswald floated through the sunlit air as a familiar feminine voice whispered to him. “Come closer, my love. Come closer.” The little guy half-closed his eyes in anticipation of the seduction. The closer he floated towards this voice, the brighter the sunlight became. Whoever was sending these vibes had the radiance of an angel. And then Oswald could see a pair of plump red lips calling for him and making kissing noises to further tempt him. He puckered his own marijuana-scented lips and prepared for the love-making session he desperately desired.

And then the little guy opened his eyes and saw those red lips were hiding a serpentine tongue and elongated fangs dripping with poison. Oswald’s heart thumped in his chest and his eyes widened upon learning this face belonged to Antero Magnus, whose cyan eyes rolled so far back in his head that redness became horrifyingly apparent. “Give me a kiss, lover boy!” slithered Antero before taking a massive bite out of his former protégé’s skull. Oswald’s brains oozed out of the bite marks while his skull cracked in half, rendering him lifeless in an instant.

“Oswald, wake up!” shouted a more genuine female voice and the dwarf snapped awake while inhaling a raspy breath. Sitting up in his bed and soaked to the bone with sweat, he noticed he was back in his dorm room just like Nikita Johnson promised. Low and behold, there she was standing over his exhausted body with wetness in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said. “You looked like you were having a nightmare.”

The little person wiped the blurriness out of his eyes and said, “I did have a nightmare. A bunch of virgins in masks came and beat the shit out of everyone at school. Wait a minute. That was just a nightmare, right?”

“I’m afraid not, Oswald. Our college really was attacked. It’s all over the media. I was watching GNN on my phone.” The dwarf tried to crawl out of bed, but Nikita placed a hand in front of him to keep him from doing so. “Don’t, Oswald. You’re hurt. Just lay there for a few more minutes.”

Oswald face-palmed and whispered, “Goddamn you, Antero.”

“What did you just say?”

“Um…I, uh…oh, no…”

Nikita folded her arms and asked, “How do you know who Antero Magnus is?”

“How do YOU know him?”

Nikita sighed and sat down on the bed next to her rescuer’s feet. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger before finally satisfying Oswald’s curiosity. “He’s in one of my classes. I’m double majoring in English and political science and apparently he’s majoring in political science too. Every single time he’d share one of his papers with the class…he…” She wiped a tear from her eye. “He just sounded so entitled. He felt like the world owed him sex. He was incredibly sexist on so many levels. I don’t think he’d even be happy if he found a relationship. He’d just continue the cycle of hatred. And the worst part about this is….my professor is too scared to challenge him because he thinks Antero will snap.”

“That definitely sounds like something he’d do,” said Oswald absentmindedly before backpedaling with a series of “um’s” and “uh’s”.

“Are you hiding something from me? How do you know Antero? Please be honest.” No answer. Just a nervous stare from the little guy. “Oswald, if you know something about Antero, you need to tell me. You heard those masked guys yelling things like Love Is Black and muttering shit about Chads and Stacys. If Antero really is behind all of that, you need to tell the police. That’s information they need.” Still no answer. “Oswald, what’s going on?!”

The dwarf sighed and plopped his head back on the pillow. “Antero tried to get me to join his group. He calls it Incelbordination or some shit like that.”

“You didn’t actually join them, did you?” asked Nikita with a shaky voice. “Oswald, if I find out you’re mixed up in this sexist crap, I’m going to…”

“I turned them down!” A long beat of uncomfortable silence hung between them. “I saw what those people are capable of. I’ve been to one of their chat rooms. The shit they talked about…it was disgusting. They joked about murdering and raping women. Although, it turned out not to be much of a joke, did it.”

“You need to go to the police and tell them everything you know.”

“…I’m sorry, Nikita, I can’t.”

“Why not?” Another beat of silence built a wall between them until Nikita’s eyes widened at something that appeared to be in Oswald’s coat, which he still wore in bed. She reached inside despite the dwarf swatting at her hands and pulled out several ready rolls. “Oh my god…this is why? You’re afraid the police are going to find these?”

Holding up his hands defensively, Oswald explained, “Look, I have a prescription for those, okay? I’ve got a severe case of depression and pot is the only thing that’s working.”

“Are you sure it’s working?” asked Nikita rhetorically. “Because I’ve heard your love stories in Valerie’s class. I’ve heard your poetry. Whatever’s wrong with you, these rolls aren’t doing the trick.”

“Sometimes they take a while to kick in!” snapped Oswald. “Then again, sometimes there isn’t a cure for what’s going on in real life!”

“If you’re not going to report Antero to the police, then I will. I’ll even put in a good word for you with the cops!”

“You can’t do that, Nikita! You can’t force your straightedge crap on the whole fucking world! It doesn’t work like that! I need that marijuana just to get me through the day unscathed! It’s not my fault everybody else wants to be a prick and fuck up my therapy!”

Nikita’s face transformed from desperate tears to passionate anger at the “straightedge crap” talking point. “Just so you know, I do have a dog in this fight when it comes to drugs and alcohol. My dad smoked all the weed he could find and on top of that drank every bottle of booze within a ten mile fucking radius. He did all of this when I was just a little girl. He’d come home from work smelling like he’d just bathed in raw sewage. And then late at night he went for a drive…” She wiped a way another tear and sniffled. “He never came home. Crashed into the river and drowned. I blame him for everything, but I blame the drugs he took even more.”

Oswald sighed and face-palmed once again. “I’m sorry for your loss, Nikita. Trust me, I know how that feels.”

“Then why are you smoking this shit to begin with?!” screamed Nikita, causing her target to pull the covers halfway over his face. “If you know how it feels, then why are you repeating this garbage?! This stuff isn’t curing you. It’s making you into a monster. You want proof? You’re worried that the cops are going to find this on you when you throw Antero under the bus. Well…I don’t have to worry about that because I’m not stupid enough to repeat the same mistakes over and over again.”

“Nikita…please give those back to me.”

“Not a chance, Oswald. I’m not going to let you fuck over this entire school after what they went through!”

“Why, you little!” grunted the dwarf as he attempted to roll out of bed and onto his feet. Because of his injuries, all he could do was plop on his ass and pull a muscle in his lower back. He screamed and coughed while pounding the floor with his fist, ignoring the fact that there used to be glass in his knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Oswald…but you did this to yourself!” said Nikita before turning around and marching away.

“No, wait! Don’t go! You can’t turn me in for this! They’ll put me in prison forever! I don’t’ deserve that shit!” The sound of Nikita slamming the front door behind her prompted Oswald to scream even more curse words while pounding the floor with both fists this time as well as his heels. He didn’t get much offense into the floor due to his agonized lower back, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Just like Nikita before him, Oswald found an excuse to shed tears, but his own sobbing was loud and obnoxious enough to awaken his couch potato roommate, who screamed, “Hey! Shut up in there!” Except Oswald didn’t shut up. He cursed and pounded the ground some more until he was ready for another trip to the subconscious theater.

“Don’t do this to me, Nikita,” he whispered as he was falling asleep again. “Please…don’t…do…this…”

Incelbordination, Chapter 8

“Every Sunday, when America goes to church, Incelbordination goes to war!” Oswald was pretty sure Antero stole that line from an NFL videogame commercial, but it was effective word porn nonetheless. Oswald dragged his ass out of bed and signed onto the Incelbordination chat room where that church slogan came from. Upon receiving the URL to that chat room, Antero told him that they never had physical meeting places because of Mia Barry’s investigation against him. They also didn’t use the same URL every time, also for the same purpose. The clandestine nature of these Sunday meetings made Oswald feel like a rebel, like he actually could bring a shock to the system.

When he signed in under the username LittleFury21, he whistled in awe of how many people were part of this chat room. So many young men on campus like him who felt betrayed by their peers. So much potential crushed by the world around them. So many dreams turned into permanent nightmares. This was definitely Oswald’s true territory, not a classroom of judgmental eyes or a home he couldn’t go to anymore.

BLACK_PILL_KING (Antero’s Username): Good morning, everyone! Welcome to our weekly Incelbordination meeting. You all know who I am by now. But I’m sure none of you know who LittleFury21 is. He’s our newest acquisition and quite possibly our saving grace in this wretched life. Everyone say hello!

Sure enough, the entire chat room did so and that alone made Oswald feel welcome, unlike any other school environment he was in.

BLACK_PILL_KING: The floor is yours, little guy. Introduce yourself to our Supreme Gentlemen!

LITTLEFURY21: Hello, everyone. I was told not to use real names prior to this meeting, so I won’t give away mine. But as many of you guessed by now, Little Fury isn’t just some catchy title. I really am three feet tall and south of a hundred pounds. Men and women alike go out of their way to avoid me and those who do pay attention only want to disparage me before getting the chance to know who I am.

RAGE_GOD31: Ever thought about punching them in the dick?

LITTLEFURY21: All the time, Rage God. I actually did have to learn how to box when I was young. If I didn’t throw those heavy punches, I’d probably be deader than a doornail right now. Hell, I’m probably going to be dead in a few years anyways. Dying of a lonely heart isn’t at all unheard of.

DEATH_MASTER2000: You know, you can do something about this. Ever thought about going out in a blaze of glory? That’s probably the only way any of us will ever be noticed. Look at what happened to Eliot Rodger.

LITTLEFURY21: I think about it more often than you think, Death Master. The problem is…I just don’t have it in me to go through with it.

MCDONALDS_PIMP69: If you ever need coaxing along, just remember that there are no innocent victims. The whole world is guilty for pushing you aside. If nobody else will be the judge, jury, and executioner, then you take those roles yourself. Don’t puss out on us now!

LITTLEFURY21: That’s all well and good, but I don’t exactly have a warehouse full of bazookas and machetes readily available. My legs are also too short to operate the pedals on a German tank. LOL!

BLACK_PILL_KING: Heavy artillery is overrated, Little Fury. It’s expensive, it’s hard to smuggle, and it’s more obvious than the hard-on those tank cannons look like. If you need the tools to get the job done and can’t rely on your boxing skills alone…we can help you with that!

LITTLEFURY21: Wait a minute…you guys actually have…guns?!

BLACK_PILL_KING: Not just guns, my friend. Chainsaws, knives, baseball bats covered in razor wire, and even a few vans to turn Chads and Stacys into pretty little pancakes. Then after we flatten them, we can put our special whipped cream all over them while they bleed out strawberries. It’ll be like having breakfast at IHOP.

The constant barrage of LOL’s and LMAO’s from the other incels sent chills up Oswald’s spine and made his fingers go numb. Thank god there was a waste bucket next to his computer desk in case he needed something to barf into. The thought of speaking up put nervous energy in his stomach, but he knew he had to do it.

LITTLEFURY21: Guys, this shit isn’t funny.

BIG_DADDY_G: Are you kidding me? This is fucking hilarious! Besides, if your legs were long enough to drive a van, you’d want to splatter everything in sight too!

BLACK_PILL_KING: I agree 100%. Seriously, why the change of heart?

LITTLEFURY21: Look, I can appreciate the fact that you guys hate the world and want to watch it burn and all, but this is ridiculous. You’re making jokes about murdering people and I’m actually afraid you guys might do it someday.

SUPER_FREAK72: Dude, take your skirt off and be a man for once. You know the only chance you’d get laid is if you killed the chick yourself. Even then, I think it’s a long shot since your legs aren’t the only short thing about you.

LITTLEFURY21: How about instead of hiding behind a computer screen, you say that shit to my face? Yeah, and I’M the one walking around in a skirt.

SUPER_FREAK72: If you and I were to fight, I’d win every single time. Now fall in line before I make you eat your meals through a straw!

BLACK_PILL_KING: Okay, children, that’s enough. We’re supposed to be unified by this shit, not tearing each other apart. We’ve got big plans and I will not have them scrapped by a bunch of infighting!

LITTLEFURY21: What do you mean “big plans”? You’re not actually talking about…you know…

BLACK_PILL_KING: I don’t know, maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Maybe I’ll have to rethink my whole strategy if you’re not fully committed to Incelbordination. I understand you’re new to this group, but everybody has to pay their dues.

LITTLEFURY21: And by “paying my dues”, you mean going out and committing murder and necrophilia. If that’s the case, then your Uncle Tuomas won’t have to worry about not getting laid anymore.

The swear words, epithets, and death threats from the other members flooded the chat room to where the system almost crashed. Antero tried to restore order, but the messages of hate came so frequently that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Oswald did what most immature computer users did and argued back against Incelbordination’s finest. The slurs came more frequently and nearly send him spiraling into insanity. The dwarf even held his head and rocked back and forth before leaving the chat room and taking deep breaths.

Oswald had enough venom for the world to fill two chemical factories and a biological weapons carrier. Yet even he was disgusted by what he saw in that chat room. His heart raced, his stomach ached, and his mind swirled with words like “faggot”, “pussy”, and “prison bitch”. Images of him being stabbed, shot, stomped, or even raped in the asshole made him wish he had forgotten Incelbordination even existed. No woman was worth this much poison. In fact, he would even welcome hugs from Valerie Sand, Nikita Johnson, and Mia Barry of they were offered.

Tomorrow was Monday, which meant another round of criticism from his English teacher. Oswald held his pain-wracked stomach at the thought of having to choose between being criticized by Valerie and being cyber-bullied by a bunch of virgin terrorists. It was the classic case of Death or  Unga-Bunga all over again. If he was going to be laughed at for the thousandth time, he might as well have put his best foot forward.

“Okay, Oswald, you can do this. Just breathe…just concentrate…” He pulled the C- covered paper out of his backpack and tried to focus on correcting his many mistakes. He had a whole Sunday to get the job done and he had completed his homework assignments from his other classes. If there was ever time to puff the magic dragon…

Incelbordination, Chapter 7

The sun set on a dreadful Friday and Oswald couldn’t have been more grateful. In its place was a beautiful Saturday morning, complete with sleeping until noon and all the weed he could smoke in one sitting. He still hadn’t decided whether or not he wanted to torch the C- laden paper. He figured maybe he should’ve dragged his little ass out of bed to make those necessary corrections. Then again, correcting things never helped him in the past. Those C’s still gazed into his soul every time he laid eyes on them. Perhaps a nice walk in the afternoon sunshine would do him a few favors here and there.

MP3 player? Check. Ready roll? Check. Zippo? Double check, motherfucker. He certainly wouldn’t have accepted another book of matches from Antero no matter how desperately he needed them. Once the trench coat was on and “Lonesome Town” by Ricky Nelson soothed his aching ears, Oswald headed for the streets without telling his roommates goodbye. Then again, they wouldn’t have noticed even if he did.

The streets were nearly empty at this time of day. Normally people would be partying it up on a Saturday. Either that or Oswald was just as ignorant of other people as they were of him. As soon as those negative, lonely thoughts crept in his mind, he pulled out his ready roll. Even with his Zippo clearly in the palm of his fucking hand, he could hear a familiar voice from behind asking him if he needed a light. “Oh no….oh hell no…” the dwarf moaned while shaking his head.

He pulled off the headsets and turned around to see Antero Magnus holding a book of matches. “Well, it’s Groundhog Day…again,” joked the Incel.

“You motherfucker!” shouted Oswald. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t punch you in the dick right now! You trying to get me in trouble or some shit?! You knew what you were doing when you gave me that gift card, you sick prick!”

“You’re right!” retorted Antero as he leaned down to meet Oswald’s eyes. “I knew exactly what I was doing. I was trying to teach you a lesson. You didn’t even need an ass-load of tuition money to learn that.”

“You ain’t helping your case, buddy! I’ve still got one more punch in me and it’s aimed at your….”

“Listen to me, damn it!” snapped Antero. “I know you’re upset and you damn well should be. Those girls who hang out at Mickey D’s are underage, yes, they are. They’re young, naïve, immature…and yet they’re the only girls in this world who find us attractive.” Oswald’s fighting stance eased up at that statement. “Think about this for a minute. Our one safe haven for finding love and the government outlaws it. Tell me again how everything’s not stacked against us.”

“So you’re mad because you can’t fuck little girls?”

Antero stood up and sighed. “Obviously, I’m not getting through to you. Take a walk with me for a minute. I’ve got something to show you.”

“Let me guess: you’re going to introduce me to your dead Uncle Tuomas? Yeah, that’s right. I almost got sent to jail over what you put me through. The cop who picked me up told me all about your Uncle Tuomas! I bet you’ve got an Aunt Floor Jansen and a Grandma Anette Olzon too!”

Antero chuckled, “I never get tired of hearing those Nightwish jokes. But yes, it’s true: I’m of Finnish descent and my Uncle Tuomas is dead as a doornail. But I’m willing to bet you anything the cop only gave you the Cliff’s Notes version of what happened. Cliff’s Notes are good, but not in a college setting where C-‘s are staring you in the face with a murderous grin. Come with me. Let me set you straight.”

From there the two of them had a brief walk to the local cemetery. Oswald never let Antero out of his sight in case the sly bastard had a knife he couldn’t wait to coat with midget blood. For the most part, the incel leader seemed sincere in his gestures. And then shit got real when the two of them approached Tuomas Magnus’s grave. The poor guy died young, as was the case of a lot of suicide victims. The cold hard fact wasn’t lost on Antero when he removed his sunglasses and gazed down at the grave with sadness etched in his features.

“Oswald, I want you to pay close attention to something I’m about to point out to you.” The incel pointed at various graves and said, “Bouquet of roses” to each of them. “Now I want you to take a look at Tuomas’s grave and tell me what you see.”

“…No roses.”

“That’s right, Oswald. Nobody bothered to leave him one single rose. Not my deadbeat dad. Not my bitch ass mom. Not anybody in the community, in fact. They all gave up on him. They bought into the rape charge bullshit like it was the word of god. The police will tell you that they had more than enough evidence to press charges. Then again, the police have never been trustworthy to begin with. They can delete body camera footage at the drop of a hat. They can beat and shoot anybody they damn well please and get a paid vacation for it. Uncle Tuomas was just another victim of this unjust system. One little girl cried rape and now everybody descended upon him with pitchforks and torches.”

Oswald sighed, hung his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I get how fucked up false rape accusations can be, but what does your dead uncle have to do with me?”

Physically leveling with his “friend” yet again, Antero said, “Well, you’ve seen the lack of roses on Tuomas’s grave. Tell me: who’s going to leave roses on your grave when you die?” Oswald’s face grew solemn. “I’d leave them, but I might not be around for much longer if this police investigation keeps up. How long do you think you have left on this earth, Oswald, before the Chads and Stacys cripple you to death? Three years? Maybe four? You’re a young man. Young men with English degrees don’t do well in this piss-poor economy. The only other option you’d have left is to marry a woman with money. The only question is…who’s going to want to blow their trust fund on you, Oswald?”

Wiping a solitary tear from his eye, Oswald mustered up, “I have a few friends…”

“A few? I’m sorry, Oswald, but a few doesn’t make up an entire funeral congregation. You’re lonely and you don’t want to admit it. You have nobody you can turn to in this world. Not your teachers, not your so-called friends who’ll backstab you in a heartbeat…not even your dead parents.”

The dwarf gazed up at Antero with tears pooling in his eyes. “Is my Face Book profile that obvious?”

“More obvious than an anvil falling out of the sky, my friend.” Just as Oswald was about to burst into an ugly sob, Antero held his shoulders and said, “It’s true. I know all about your parents’ deaths. I’ll never forget that angry rant you posted. Your mom and dad were killed by a drunk driver. But instead of giving that Night Train-drinking bastard lethal injection, the judge gave him a few years at most because of his sudden love for Jesus Christ. The cops can arrest us anytime they want. But what if we just made up the Jesus Christ excuse once the heat got too hot? Together, we can change the world. Together, we can show the Chads and Stacys that they don’t run shit anymore.”

Antero extended his hand to shake and all Oswald could do was stare at it with tears falling from his face. He then slapped the hand away and hugged his newfound friend around the neck. The incel leader awkwardly hugged him back and allowed the dwarf to cry on his shoulder.

“Let it all out, little guy. Let it all out. Incelbordination is here for you. The cops don’t give a shit about you. The Stacys don’t give a shit about you. But I do. Come join us for a support session. You can talk all about your feelings and eat fast food until your belly explodes. Maybe you can smoke that joint and get hungry for some more food. A Quarter Pounder with Cheese won’t judge you.”

Oswald broke his embrace and wiped his tears on his trench coat sleeve. Nodding, he said, “Count me in, Antero. Don’t leave me out here with these normies.”

“I knew you’d see the light one of these days, my friend. It was a foregone conclusion since the day you were born into this fucked up world.”

Incelbordination, Chapter 6

“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, but that’s beside the point. The point is, if you think you’re going to cure your loneliness by joining Incelbordination, then you need to quickly realize you’ll only make it worse.”

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.

Incelbordination, Chapter 4

Oswald wiped the rainy weather from his face long enough to see another reason to cry his eyes out if he so chose: Antero Magnus with a book of matches. Clearly, a compromise had to be made. Or did it? “Why the fuck do you keep following me everywhere I go? Are you some kind of lost puppy dog or some shit?” In a brazen move reminiscent of last night, Antero swiped the ready roll from Oswald’s hand and lit it himself before taking a few puffs. “Excuse me?!” said Oswald with big red eyes. “That’s not yours to smoke! I need that shit for my depression!”

Handing the marijuana roll back to its rightful owner, Antero spit out a cloud of green and said, “Let me ask you something, Oswald. How many times have you puffed the shit out of that roll and found permanent happiness afterwards? The answer is zero, because as powerful as that shit is, it’s only a temporary fix to a much bigger problem.” The incel took a seat next to his charge and patted him on the shoulder. “You already know what the bigger problem is, don’t you?”

Taking a puff and spitting out an even bigger cloud than his lungs would allow, Oswald said, “Yeah, I know what it is. It has something to do with a weirdo in a trench coat taking hits of my Mary-Jane. Seriously, what could you possibly see in me? I’m not what you’re looking for. I don’t blame my insecurities on other people.”

“Which is precisely why you punched a muscle jock in the dick and why you ran away from a smooth-legged English teacher.”

Wide-eyed yet again, Oswald exclaimed, “Dude! You’ve got to stop following me everywhere! That’s fucking creepy!” Antero chuckled and removed his sunglasses, revealing those horrifying cyan-colored eyes. “Ah! Put your glasses back on! Put ‘em back on!” screamed Oswald while shielding his face with his hands.

“As you wish,” said Antero before complying with his “friend’s” request. “But I must warn you, there are scarier things in this world than weirdly-colored eyes. There’s a conspiracy against us. And when I say us, I mean you, me, and every other Supreme Gentlemen who’s had the deck stacked against them their whole lives. We don’t look like the normies. We don’t talk like the normies. We don’t wear the same kind of hats they do either. That bothers them. So what do they do? They commit social genocide.”

“Okay, okay, okay, this is getting fucked up,” said Oswald with his hands raised. “Social genocide? You’re using the G-word to describe not being able to get laid? How in the hell do you…”

“I don’t expect you to understand right away,” said Antero while readjusting his sunglasses. “Some lessons take longer to learn than others. But to answer your question, the G-word isn’t all about getting laid. Anybody can get laid. Surely, there are enough sex surrogates and prostitutes to go around. It’s love that we seek and can never find. We give it all away and none of it is returned. A simple thank-you would be enough for some people. Me? I want a little bit of interest with my investment.”

Oswald’s mouth became O-shaped at the statement he tried so desperately hard to digest. Antero dug through his own trench coat and pulled out his wallet. “You know what? I can tell you’re not convinced just yet. That’s okay. College is a time for learning, right? Well, you’ve got a lot to learn about the way the world works against us.” Antero handed Oswald a thirty-dollar McDonald’s gift card and said, “Two words: McDonald’s prostitute.”

Flipping the card over and over again in disbelief, Oswald stared at the meal ticket like he was holding a severed head. “Mc…Donald’s prostitute?”

“That’s right, little man,” said Antero before patting him on the back. “Everybody’s got a price tag on them. For the women down at Mickey D’s, all they ever wanted was a little bit of loving and a Quarter Pounder with Cheese. That’s how shitty our economy has gotten. When you’re too broke for a basic McDonald’s meal and you have to turn to sex to get one, that’s how you know shit’s all fucked up. Of course, I don’t know how in god’s name a Quarter Pounder could taste good when there’s splooge sloshing around in their mouths.”

“This….this…this is sick, Antero. This is fucking sick!”

“I know it’s sick, Oswald. I know. But sometimes you can’t take the highroad forever. You want someone to love you, right? You want to experience that cherry pop for the first time? All you have to do so come bearing the gifts of French fries, nuggets, greasy meat, and…well….greasy meat!” Antero chuckled at his own joke.

Finally peeling his terrified eyes away from the gift card, Oswald said, “Dude…you’re not funny. Nothing about this is comical. This is wrong. Really wrong!”

“You’re a good man, Oswald. Ordinarily, being a good human being has its rewards. But not in this Stacy-dominated world. You’re desperate enough. I can see it in those bloodshot eyes of yours. You’ll either have the most romantic night of your life in a McDonald’s parking lot…or you’ll get a lifelong lesson that no sexy-legged teacher could offer you. Either way, I just gave you the keys to the city. It’s up to you now what it is you want to do with them.”

Antero patted Oswald’s back and walked out of sight. The little guy turned his flabbergasted attention back to the gift card. It was so wrong, yet so right at the same time. There was something seductive about the way Antero talked. There was a reason he led so many people down their destined paths. He made so much sense in that one oratory.

Having those dark thoughts jolted Oswald awake, causing him to accidentally drop the gift card on the table. “What the fuck was I thinking?” he asked himself while holding his head in his hands. “I can’t do this. This isn’t right. No, no, no!” The three no’s were punctuated with the dwarf lightly banging his head against the table.

Once the forehead pain became too much to bear, he took a look around the commons for any signs that Antero might be right. Sure enough, this place was swarming with examples. Men and women holding hands while walking together. “Chads” and “Stacys” making out on the grassy lawn. Oswald even saw one guy holding his crying girlfriend’s head in his lap while he stroked her hair. What the lonely dwarf would give for the chance to be touched like that.

That Mickey D’s gift card started him straight in the face with lust and seduction. It was such an easy solution. Antero could have been his savior in that one moment. His own personal Jesus Christ, to use yet another Matrix quote. Oswald finally made the decision to scoop up the gift card and tuck it away in his wallet. If nothing else, he could at least enjoy a good meal, one that made him feel better than any roll of green ever could.

Oswald walked away from the commons huffing and puffing on his roll of weed. He kept feeling his scraggly beard and lengthy hair while contemplating if he should clean himself up for this meeting with a McDonald’s prostitute. Maybe throwing his pot-smelling coat in the wash machine would also be a good idea. Then again, did he really have to change himself for someone who was only in it for the nuggets and the burgers? There was thirty dollars on the card, which meant he could get extra goodies to make himself more enticing. The shave and haircut could wait another day…if that day ever came.

The dwarf put his headsets on and played “Bless the Wings” by The Moody Blues on his MP3 player. Was that song a little too romantic and sappy for what was about to happen that evening? Perhaps. Was Oswald expecting too much when he contemplated a potential relationship with this McDonald’s girl? He thought so. But as long as he was high on pot and already depressed from the day’s events, a little lovey-dovey psychological cinema was perhaps the right call.

Judging from the stares he got from “normies” walking by, any kind of vicarious romance would have been welcome. He certainly didn’t get it from the “Chad” he bumped into when he wasn’t paying attention. Oswald landed right on his ass while the guy said, “Hey, what the hell?!”

The dwarf picked himself up and apologized profusely to the young man and his girlfriend. He thought that would be the end of that, but then he noticed the couple walking away with their noses in their shirts, presumably from the pot smell. Oswald was tempted to go back there and punch the shit out of both of them. But it was more tempting to just take a shower and wash his clothing rather than get himself expelled for stupid shit. Maybe he did have to change himself after all. But for a McDonald’s hooker? So much debating took place in Oswald’s mind, all of which was settled with a few more puffs of Mary-Jane.

Incelbordination, Chapter 1

Oswald Crow gazed upon the sea of slow-dancing couples with moisture in his eyes, tension in his muscles, and heaviness in his heart. What he wouldn’t give to be one of those lucky motherfuckers. Just a slight glance from a beautiful woman would have set him free. But the entire student body seemed determined to stay as far away from him as possible. Was it his shaggy black hair and scraggly beard? Was it his three-foot tall stature? Was it the way he dressed in his black trench coat? Or was he just destined to be a loser this whole time? God was laughing at him. The universe conspired against him. The world buried him six feet under. Despite all of this, all he could do was sigh in depression.

“What’s the point?” he said to nobody in particular. Oswald hopped off the couch in the far corner of the gym and stuffed his hands in his pockets, stomping his way toward the exit. He pantomimed kicking at a stone on his way out the door and even that piece of odd behavior didn’t grab anybody’s attention. Dwarf body aside, Oswald never felt so small and encaged.

Ah, finally some fresh night air. The gym doors could have done a better job of muffling the sounds of “When I See You Smile”, though. Not a soul in sight, just Oswald and his sorrowful thoughts as he plopped down on the sidewalk with his fist against his chin. He shook his head and once again asked, “What’s the point?” The answer was easy: there was no point in him being here anymore. He hadn’t the spine or testicles to ask a woman to dance with him, because rejection was more painful than loneliness. It always had been and it always would be.

He could have talked to a counselor. He could have confided in a best friend (which he had none). But instead he pulled a marijuana roll out of his trench coat and smiled for the first time this evening. The smile faded when he frisked himself in search of his lighter. “Goddamn it, where the fuck did I put it?” The longer he went without it, the more frantically he searched for it, even taking off his coat and shaking it out.

“Need a light?” said a startling baritone voice, nearly causing Oswald to jump out of his skin. The gentleman also wore a black trench coat a la The Matrix, complete with sunglasses (at nighttime?) and a bald head like Morpheus, sans black skin. If he was any whiter, he’d be clear.

“What are you, a cop? You going to turn me in for having this? I have a prescription for it, you know,” said Oswald.

The gentleman chuckled, “Don’t be silly, I wouldn’t dream of ratting you out. I love a good roll of green as much as the next guy. Here, let me light that for you.” He struck a match and kneeled down to light Oswald’s marijuana.

The dwarf puffed away until the fresh night air became dense with sweet cannabis smoke. “Thanks,” he said before relaxing on the sidewalk again.

“Don’t mention it,” said the stranger, who parked his ass right next to him and gazed around at nothing in particular. The silence between them grew tense until he said, “Not a good night, I take it.”

“To say the least,” said Oswald as he laid back on the concrete peering at the stars above. Those little pinholes in the dark looked lovelier than intended, as did the full moon. “Goddamn, this is some powerful shit.”

“I should get a prescription for that too,” said the stranger. “It’s funny how alcohol is called liquid courage, yet the only thing it encouraged anybody to do was smash a car against a tree. Meanwhile, people get locked up for having weed around the house. Makes about as much sense as any chick in that gym turning down Supreme Gentlemen like us.”

“Uh-huh…wait a minute…” Oswald sat up and rubbed the glaze out of his eyes. “Did you just call us…Supreme Gentlemen?”

“Of course I did. What else would we be? I’ll bet if you ask that question to any of the Chads and Stacys in there, you’ll probably get a much more derogatory answer.”

“…Ch…Chads and Stacys?”

“Oh yeah, that building’s loaded with them.” The stranger snatched the roll out of Oswald’s hands and puffed it a few times before handing it back. The little person’s eyes widened at the brazen gesture. “Oh, excuse me, where are my manners? I never formally introduced myself, did I. Here you go, bud.”

Oswald took a business card out of the stranger’s hand and read it out loud. “Antero Magnus…that’s an interesting name...Leader of….” The dwarf gave him an incredulous look before reading, “Incelbordination, a Support Group for Involuntary Celibates.” The wide-eyed stare returned as he handed Antero his card back. “What…the…actual…fuck?!”

“I know, right? It’s hard to believe anybody out there actually wants to support us. But it’s true: sometimes we need to talk about our feelings and nobody’s there to listen. Every heartbreak…every downfall…every swallow of the black pill…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…the…black pill?”

Taking his sunglasses off to reveal horrifying cyan eyes, Antero leaned in and said, “Oh yes, my little friend. We don’t take blue pills or red pills. We take black pills. We see the world for what it really is: an ugly hellhole. You know it, I know it, and every Supreme Gentleman who’s ever been picked on knows it too. You smoke that shit for a reason and it’s not because you want the stars and the moon to look prettier. You’re feeling the sadness. You’re feeling the hurt. Sometimes those Stacys like to crush your heart right underneath their five hundred dollar high heels.”

If Oswald’s eyes could get any wider, they’d pop out of his skull. The little man shook his head and asked, “Who the fuck talks like that?! You’re insane!”

Antero belted, “Insane?! Hah! That’s blue pill talk to me. Paul Mauriat was a fucking liar. Love ain’t blue. It ain’t red either. It’s black, baby. You’re not going to find the truth smoking that roll all night long, buddy. You’re not going to find love in a building full of prudes either. Join Incelbordination. You’re perfect for us. You’re brilliant, you’re thoughtful, and you can use those things to combat the injustices against us. You have what it takes to affect change in this world. Take the black pill. Take it!”

Taking another puff of Mary-Jane and ignoring Antero’s remarks about it not helping, Oswald said, “Well, Antero Magnus, if that is your real fucking name…as long as we’re ripping off The Matrix to make points about women owing us everything…I’ve got a Matrix reference for you right now. How about…I give you the finger…and you never talk to me again. I don’t need this Gestapo crap. I’d ask for a phone call right now, but I ain’t got nobody to call…because the only other person who will listen to me is the leader of Incel-Abortion, or whatever it’s called.”

The dwarf got up to leave when Antero called out, “You’re making a big mistake, Oswald!”

The marijuana roll dropped from Oswald’s lips as he slowly turned around and asked, “How did you know my name? I didn’t give that shit to you!”

Antero shook his head and chuckled, “Man, you’ve really got to stop leaving your personal information on Face Book. You think you’re invisible? Bitch, I can see you from miles away with a face like that! But in all seriousness, I do think you’d be a perfect fit for us. You’re unloved and distrusted. I bet that shit eats you up inside. If you ever change your mind, remember: I’ve got an open door policy when it comes to my Supreme Gentlemen.”

Pointing an accusatory finger at Antero, Oswald demanded, “Don’t ever call me a Supreme Gentleman again. That’s fucking creepy. And while you’re at it, don’t stalk me on Face Book again either. That’s double creepy. I’m not like you, Antero. I’m a dying breed!”

Antero’s chuckles grew more defined as he doubled over and clapped his hands. Despite the marijuana kicking in only minutes ago, Oswald could feel his heart thump like a bass drum in his chest. He turned around and ran as fast as his stubby legs could take him, though no distance could ever drown out Antero’s villainous laughter.

He fished in his trench coat and pulled out his MP3 player and headsets. Maybe some good old fashioned heavy metal would shut Antero up. Oswald struggled to keep the headsets on as he hurriedly scrolled through his songs to see what was best. “Strength Beyond Strength” by Pantera always got the job done. Nothing quite as entrancing as listening to Phil Anselmo scream his ass off about legalizing weed. Oswald blasted the volume up to maximum levels and he could still hear Antero laughing in the background despite the distance he had gained since then.

The heavy metal tune carried Oswald through his anxiety-induced workout and landed him into the recesses of the forest, his dorm building not too far away. He stopped running and leaned palm first against an oak tree, huffing and puffing like he had just had a noose wrapped around his neck. He coughed some of the marijuana out of his lungs and wheezed some more.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” he wondered in between heavy breaths and burning lungs. “No woman is worth this much bullshit.” His legs wobbly and sore, he trudged back to his dorm building and decided enough was enough for the evening. Although, it was never easy to close his eyes to sleep when they were red and puffy. “Too much weed…too much fucking weed…love ain’t black, Antero…love is green!”