Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 62
May 22, 2018
Because of You
Whether or not you believe it to be true
This world is different because of you
Every word you say, every dollar you spend
Every action you take, every position you defend
Every friend you make, every heart you take
Every enemy you kill, all the blood you spill
What seems like nothing on the surface
Could feel to others overwhelmingly urgent
A lifelong lesson or an honorable mention
A permanent heaven or a hellish weapon
For every action, there’s a consequence
No in-betweens, no riding on the fence
Do you want to be a force of positive change?
Or a constant source of negative pain?
No matter what decision you ultimately make
Have no regrets unless you want to break
This world is different because of you
Either tear it apart or become its glue
This world is different because of you
Every word you say, every dollar you spend
Every action you take, every position you defend
Every friend you make, every heart you take
Every enemy you kill, all the blood you spill
What seems like nothing on the surface
Could feel to others overwhelmingly urgent
A lifelong lesson or an honorable mention
A permanent heaven or a hellish weapon
For every action, there’s a consequence
No in-betweens, no riding on the fence
Do you want to be a force of positive change?
Or a constant source of negative pain?
No matter what decision you ultimately make
Have no regrets unless you want to break
This world is different because of you
Either tear it apart or become its glue
May 21, 2018
Beautiful Monster, Chapter 12
Even though the horseback travel itself was a relatively short distance, it was Windham Xavier’s longest journey back to the Paladin Cross home base. Intrusive thoughts circled his mind even knowing Tarja was his ultimate safety net. Would Windham receive a hero’s welcome? Would he be laughed out of the building? Would he even have a job by the time all was said and done? He did, after all, kill two precious bounty heads rather than leave them alive. Then again, how could he leave those two predators alive? They would have done the same thing to anybody else that crossed their paths. Still, it felt wrong in so many ways.
The climax of Windham’s blood chilling anxiety came at the front entrance of the cathedral-like headquarters. He and Tarja dismounted their horses and allowed the stable boys to take them away. Just like with Torger, Windham had to look up to see his next obstacle: the heavy wooden double doors. The elf looked microscopic in comparison, completely justifying his nervousness to cross the threshold.
Tarja sensed Windham’s obvious trepidation and massaged the back of his neck in order to calm him down. “Remember,” she said. “I’ll be with you the whole time. If Commander Rinehart or anybody else gets out of line, they’ll have to get through me.”
“That’s one of the things I’m worried about,” confessed Windham. “I know how prejudiced these men can be, especially around women. If they think for one second that you’re fighting my battles for me, then…”
“Let them laugh,” said Tarja as she gave Windham’s neck one last squeeze. “And just so you understand, I also know how bigoted they can be. That’s never stopped me from besting them in training. They’ve got weapons bigger than their own bodies and they still got their asses kicked by a woman with a staff and an elf with a whip. They’d better wise up and see that change is coming. Otherwise, they’ll be on their asses again in no time at all. Now come on, let’s do this.”
Windham steeled his nerves with a deep sigh before taking Tarja by the hand and crossing the threshold into the cathedral. The sounds of macho men laughing it up and flinging their weapons against each other grated on the elf’s eardrums. He tried to make himself as small as possible within Tarja’s confines, taking little samples of the mocking stares he received. Even the hoots and whistles were enough to wear on his nerves, but Tarja was there to squeeze his hand lovingly and guide him to Commander Rinehart’s quarters.
By the time the newfound couple got there, Windham couldn’t remember Rinehart being as big as he was. The Commander had always been a pudgy bald bastard who barely fit into his metal armor, but never before did he seem so gigantic even when sitting at his desk. Windham felt as though he could fit in the hulking authority figure’s pockets. The two of them shook hands and the elf could feel his fingers thinning at the strong grip.
“Windham, buddy! It’s good to see you again! I was beginning to worry about you!” thundered Rinehart in his gruff, throaty voice. Windham and Tarja took seats on the opposite side of the desk while the portly Commander drummed his fingers on the wooden surface. “Looks like you got banged up pretty good while you were out there. I certainly hope you found something valuable in the north.”
“I did, Commander. In fact…” Windham tucked his head in shame while Tarja patted his back.
“Come on, Xavier, don’t puss out on me now. You were at the top of your class. Nothing’s going to get to you! Come on, what did you see up north?”
Taking another deep breath and shaking his head, Windham started the slow and tiring process of spilling his guts to his superior. Every detail of the story was laid out from the simple recon notes to the week from hell. Every time Torger touched his genitals. Every time Shelly smothered him with forced sexuality. Even the bandit robbery was a hot topic in this sense-dulling conversation. It took every last piece of strength in Windham’s mind and soul to tell this story. It looked for a moment that even the stone cold Rinehart was moved by the story judging from how wide his eyes were.
“Wow, Windham…that’s one hell of a story you’ve told me. I’ve certainly learned a lot from you....” He leaned his pudgy face closer and said, “Especially how you think you’re the victim in all of this.”
Windham’s anxiety morphed into red hot rage when he bolted out of his chair and attempted to crawl over the desk. If Tarja had not been holding him still and telling him to back off, he might have done it. After a while of wrestling, Windham sat back down, though his blazing eyes never left their wide target. Even Tarja’s eyes bore a look of disgust and fury at her own boss.
“Permission to speak freely, sir,” though she felt she didn’t need it. “One of your best soldiers had to endure a week’s worth of sexual, physical, and emotional torture at the hands of the most dangerous criminals in the country. Please show a little bit of compassion.”
“Compassion isn’t even in my fucking vocabulary,” snarled Rinehart. “Especially when money is on the line. Paladin Cross isn’t a charity. It’s a business. We only get money when the criminals are brought in alive. And Windham here just wasted a good opportunity at a payday due to his own selfishness. Although, if I had Shelly riding my dick as much as he did, I’d let her go free just so I could do it again. I mean, come on, Windham, admit it: she is one hot motherfucker.”
The elf once again tried to lunge over the table, but Tarja intercepted him and pinned him to the seat while yelling a litany of “Heys” to her new boyfriend. “Settle down, Windham, I’ve got this!” ordered the staff fighter.
“No! You don’t have anything!” shouted Windham while pointing an accusatory finger at her. “And you, Rinehart! I know you think that sex is the greatest fucking thing in the world, but this wasn’t even close to resembling true love. Shelly Atwood is disgusting, she’s vile, she’s sadistic, and she’s every bit as venomous as her step-boyfriend, I mean, stepbrother!”
“And what was stopping you from kicking his ass anyways, hmm?” growled Rinehart. “Just because a guy is seven feet tall, doesn’t mean he’s going to go undefeated for the rest of his life. I’m sure you got him good when you smashed him with the table, but you’ve got no excuse for failing the first time you saw him. He’s a muscle head with a single digit IQ. Even a two-year-old could have toppled him, but no, not you, Windham. You know why? Because you’re weak! I don’t have room for weaklings in my camp, you understand?”
“You think I’m weak?” huffed Windham. “You think I’m fucking weak?!” he shouted again while Tarja wrestled him away. “You want to start something with me, you oversized prick?!”
“Don’t even think of talking to me like that, you subhuman piece of shit!” roared Rinehart while pointing his sausage index finger at him. “I don’t care how much you disagree with me! I’m your boss! Whatever I say goes! You’ve had it so good here for so long. You became an overnight aristocrat with how well I’ve paid you. And now you’re going to throw all that way because you don’t like what I’m saying to you? The truth hurts, bitch, but not nearly as much as I do when I ram my fist down your throat!”
Windham once again tried to scramble across Rinehart’s desk, but was carried out of the room kicking, screaming, and cursing by his girlfriend. The rage got so white hot that she had to drag him by the ribcage to the front door, with macho soldiers laughing and mocking him the entire time. Some of them even wiped their “tears” away and “cried” like babies. “Is it true that she fucks like a tiger?!” one of them shouted out to a chorus of obnoxious hyena laughter.
Hoping the chilly morning air would soothe his rage a little bit, Tarja carried the wild Windham passed the threshold again and shut the doors behind her. The elf’s mind was bombarded with sensory overload as he thrashed and pounded around even without Tarja restraining him. All of those laughs from inside the cathedral echoed throughout his head like schizophrenic ghosts. The sights of Shelly’s naked body grinding against his own, the feel of Torger’s muscular hand on his penis, they all flooded back to Windham like a coastal monsoon of anxiety and anger.
“Calm the fuck down!” shouted Tarja, which only worked in the short term as Windham stopped thrashing for a moment. “It’s okay! We’re going to figure this out eventually!”
“No, Tarja!” belted Windham. “I’m going to be the one who figures it all out! You threw me to the fucking wolves and act surprised when I come out of it bloody and bruised! I’m spending the night at a hotel! I don’t need this shit!” He clutched the sides of his head and wandered toward the center of the city.
“Windham, get back here!” pleaded Tarja. “You don’t get to walk away from me!”
“Why?! Because I owe you something?! You think I owe you another trip to the lion’s den because you fucked me silly?! That sounds like something Shelly would say!”
In a moment of unthinking rage, Tarja slapped her boyfriend across the face for his callous remark. Her eyes widened with horror as she profusely tried to apologize, but the elf was having none of it as he turned his back and walked towards the nearest hotel. “Please, come back! I didn’t mean to!” she sobbed. “Come on, Windam! I’m sorry!” He didn’t listen. He just kept walking and allowed his girlfriend’s sobs to serenade him into the hotel lobby.
The climax of Windham’s blood chilling anxiety came at the front entrance of the cathedral-like headquarters. He and Tarja dismounted their horses and allowed the stable boys to take them away. Just like with Torger, Windham had to look up to see his next obstacle: the heavy wooden double doors. The elf looked microscopic in comparison, completely justifying his nervousness to cross the threshold.
Tarja sensed Windham’s obvious trepidation and massaged the back of his neck in order to calm him down. “Remember,” she said. “I’ll be with you the whole time. If Commander Rinehart or anybody else gets out of line, they’ll have to get through me.”
“That’s one of the things I’m worried about,” confessed Windham. “I know how prejudiced these men can be, especially around women. If they think for one second that you’re fighting my battles for me, then…”
“Let them laugh,” said Tarja as she gave Windham’s neck one last squeeze. “And just so you understand, I also know how bigoted they can be. That’s never stopped me from besting them in training. They’ve got weapons bigger than their own bodies and they still got their asses kicked by a woman with a staff and an elf with a whip. They’d better wise up and see that change is coming. Otherwise, they’ll be on their asses again in no time at all. Now come on, let’s do this.”
Windham steeled his nerves with a deep sigh before taking Tarja by the hand and crossing the threshold into the cathedral. The sounds of macho men laughing it up and flinging their weapons against each other grated on the elf’s eardrums. He tried to make himself as small as possible within Tarja’s confines, taking little samples of the mocking stares he received. Even the hoots and whistles were enough to wear on his nerves, but Tarja was there to squeeze his hand lovingly and guide him to Commander Rinehart’s quarters.
By the time the newfound couple got there, Windham couldn’t remember Rinehart being as big as he was. The Commander had always been a pudgy bald bastard who barely fit into his metal armor, but never before did he seem so gigantic even when sitting at his desk. Windham felt as though he could fit in the hulking authority figure’s pockets. The two of them shook hands and the elf could feel his fingers thinning at the strong grip.
“Windham, buddy! It’s good to see you again! I was beginning to worry about you!” thundered Rinehart in his gruff, throaty voice. Windham and Tarja took seats on the opposite side of the desk while the portly Commander drummed his fingers on the wooden surface. “Looks like you got banged up pretty good while you were out there. I certainly hope you found something valuable in the north.”
“I did, Commander. In fact…” Windham tucked his head in shame while Tarja patted his back.
“Come on, Xavier, don’t puss out on me now. You were at the top of your class. Nothing’s going to get to you! Come on, what did you see up north?”
Taking another deep breath and shaking his head, Windham started the slow and tiring process of spilling his guts to his superior. Every detail of the story was laid out from the simple recon notes to the week from hell. Every time Torger touched his genitals. Every time Shelly smothered him with forced sexuality. Even the bandit robbery was a hot topic in this sense-dulling conversation. It took every last piece of strength in Windham’s mind and soul to tell this story. It looked for a moment that even the stone cold Rinehart was moved by the story judging from how wide his eyes were.
“Wow, Windham…that’s one hell of a story you’ve told me. I’ve certainly learned a lot from you....” He leaned his pudgy face closer and said, “Especially how you think you’re the victim in all of this.”
Windham’s anxiety morphed into red hot rage when he bolted out of his chair and attempted to crawl over the desk. If Tarja had not been holding him still and telling him to back off, he might have done it. After a while of wrestling, Windham sat back down, though his blazing eyes never left their wide target. Even Tarja’s eyes bore a look of disgust and fury at her own boss.
“Permission to speak freely, sir,” though she felt she didn’t need it. “One of your best soldiers had to endure a week’s worth of sexual, physical, and emotional torture at the hands of the most dangerous criminals in the country. Please show a little bit of compassion.”
“Compassion isn’t even in my fucking vocabulary,” snarled Rinehart. “Especially when money is on the line. Paladin Cross isn’t a charity. It’s a business. We only get money when the criminals are brought in alive. And Windham here just wasted a good opportunity at a payday due to his own selfishness. Although, if I had Shelly riding my dick as much as he did, I’d let her go free just so I could do it again. I mean, come on, Windham, admit it: she is one hot motherfucker.”
The elf once again tried to lunge over the table, but Tarja intercepted him and pinned him to the seat while yelling a litany of “Heys” to her new boyfriend. “Settle down, Windham, I’ve got this!” ordered the staff fighter.
“No! You don’t have anything!” shouted Windham while pointing an accusatory finger at her. “And you, Rinehart! I know you think that sex is the greatest fucking thing in the world, but this wasn’t even close to resembling true love. Shelly Atwood is disgusting, she’s vile, she’s sadistic, and she’s every bit as venomous as her step-boyfriend, I mean, stepbrother!”
“And what was stopping you from kicking his ass anyways, hmm?” growled Rinehart. “Just because a guy is seven feet tall, doesn’t mean he’s going to go undefeated for the rest of his life. I’m sure you got him good when you smashed him with the table, but you’ve got no excuse for failing the first time you saw him. He’s a muscle head with a single digit IQ. Even a two-year-old could have toppled him, but no, not you, Windham. You know why? Because you’re weak! I don’t have room for weaklings in my camp, you understand?”
“You think I’m weak?” huffed Windham. “You think I’m fucking weak?!” he shouted again while Tarja wrestled him away. “You want to start something with me, you oversized prick?!”
“Don’t even think of talking to me like that, you subhuman piece of shit!” roared Rinehart while pointing his sausage index finger at him. “I don’t care how much you disagree with me! I’m your boss! Whatever I say goes! You’ve had it so good here for so long. You became an overnight aristocrat with how well I’ve paid you. And now you’re going to throw all that way because you don’t like what I’m saying to you? The truth hurts, bitch, but not nearly as much as I do when I ram my fist down your throat!”
Windham once again tried to scramble across Rinehart’s desk, but was carried out of the room kicking, screaming, and cursing by his girlfriend. The rage got so white hot that she had to drag him by the ribcage to the front door, with macho soldiers laughing and mocking him the entire time. Some of them even wiped their “tears” away and “cried” like babies. “Is it true that she fucks like a tiger?!” one of them shouted out to a chorus of obnoxious hyena laughter.
Hoping the chilly morning air would soothe his rage a little bit, Tarja carried the wild Windham passed the threshold again and shut the doors behind her. The elf’s mind was bombarded with sensory overload as he thrashed and pounded around even without Tarja restraining him. All of those laughs from inside the cathedral echoed throughout his head like schizophrenic ghosts. The sights of Shelly’s naked body grinding against his own, the feel of Torger’s muscular hand on his penis, they all flooded back to Windham like a coastal monsoon of anxiety and anger.
“Calm the fuck down!” shouted Tarja, which only worked in the short term as Windham stopped thrashing for a moment. “It’s okay! We’re going to figure this out eventually!”
“No, Tarja!” belted Windham. “I’m going to be the one who figures it all out! You threw me to the fucking wolves and act surprised when I come out of it bloody and bruised! I’m spending the night at a hotel! I don’t need this shit!” He clutched the sides of his head and wandered toward the center of the city.
“Windham, get back here!” pleaded Tarja. “You don’t get to walk away from me!”
“Why?! Because I owe you something?! You think I owe you another trip to the lion’s den because you fucked me silly?! That sounds like something Shelly would say!”
In a moment of unthinking rage, Tarja slapped her boyfriend across the face for his callous remark. Her eyes widened with horror as she profusely tried to apologize, but the elf was having none of it as he turned his back and walked towards the nearest hotel. “Please, come back! I didn’t mean to!” she sobbed. “Come on, Windam! I’m sorry!” He didn’t listen. He just kept walking and allowed his girlfriend’s sobs to serenade him into the hotel lobby.
May 17, 2018
The Last Child Comedian
***BEFORE I BEGIN***
Just a quick heads up to readers of Beautiful Monster: chapter eleven will be featured exclusively on Wattpad and nowhere else due to its strong sexual content. You won’t need a trigger warning this time, because the sex will be consensual (and maybe a little pornographic, depending on my own personal knowledge of sex). This chapter has been a long time coming, though it’s only the beginning of a much larger story of recovery and sensitivity.
***THE LAST CHILD COMEDIAN***
Many of you already know this, but when it comes to my sense of humor and my writing, George Carlin has always been one of my biggest influences. He swears like a sailor, he’s unafraid of being censored, he’s poignant as hell, and best of all, he’s funnier than a motherfucker. Speaking of which, “A father is a motherfucker.” That’s a direct line from George Carlin and it got my laugh motor going at the time. Thank god he came into my life when he did, because my sense of humor was suffering as an early teenager slash little kid.
Before Curious George became part of my comedic repertoire, I had guys like Johnny Carson and Benny Hill giving me my fill. There’s nothing wrong with either of those two comedians, but there was something wrong with the way I’ve processed their jokes into my own creativity. They told a lot of adult jokes that I wasn’t old enough to get yet, so all I had was their G-rated material. And from those jokes came some…questionable material on my part.
I knew it was questionable because when I told these manufactured jokes to my dad and brother, they didn’t laugh. Quite frankly, I don’t blame them. Want to hear my version of Jeff Foxworthy? Prepare to cringe hard. “If you fly all the way to Big Ben just to see what time it is, you might be a redneck.” Good god almighty. What the fuck? You think that’s awful, listen to this: “Why don’t criminals use pens? Because they might go to jail (pen as in penitentiary)”. Ugh. I’m cringing just writing these jokes down.
But it didn’t stop there. In fact, it got progressively worse. I’m sure my older brother remembers the infamous “Buttered Toast Shop” routine. It told the fictional story of a crabby restaurant owner with a lisp who only served buttered toast at his establishment. You couldn’t order anything else, not jam, not peanut butter, not even water. Just buttered toast. You also couldn’t dress like Wonder Woman in his diner because he’ll accuse you of wearing a diaper instead of a one-piece suit. I’ll let you all shiver for a few seconds before I continue.
And then there was a routine about a fat black guy named Tiny winning a vacation to Hawaii. Only he didn’t pronounce it the way people normally do. He pronounced it “Hwy.” That’s it. That’s the punch line for this whole joke. People would constantly try to correct him, but he just kept calling it “Hwy”, so he had his vacation revoked. I bet some alternative right motherfuckers would eat this shit up, but not my brother, who rightfully told me that my sense of humor was for little babies.
And then it got worse once again. My next routine was about an airline traveler who wanted to go to Japan, but kept getting his ass kicked by ninjas. In fact, the ninjas told him in a butchered sing-song accent, “We are the Japanese ninjas and we’re going to kick your butt!” Okay, so just don’t go to Japan. Problem solved. But then this traveler kept going to other countries and getting his ass kicked by ninjas. “We are the [Insert Foreign Country Here] ninjas and we’re going to kick your butt!” Even when he was on an airplane over the Pacific Ocean, he’d still get his ass kicked by international ninjas. Not one laugh. Not one goddamn laugh was earned that day. I can’t imagine why. Oh, excuse me. I can’t imagine “hwy”.
I didn’t watch my first George Carlin HBO special until I was fifteen years old. It was a VHS version of “Doing It Again”, where he talks about euphemisms, politically correct language, dog turds, and anything else that would make the censors rip their hair out. I watched these comedy bits and I thought to myself, “I want to do that!” So I took myself over to The Matrix Coffeehouse in Chehalis, Washington and performed George Carlin routines from memory. “If crime fighters fight crime and fire fighters fight fires, what do freedom fighters fight?” And of course, some wiseass from the crowd just had to yell, “Freedom!” Even so, I probably got more laughs doing this than I would have talking about a fictional Buttered Toast Shop.
It was from that George Carlin special along with the movie Pink Floyd the Wall that gave me my strong sense of individuality. I could crack offensive jokes and listen to devilish music without ever once caring what other people thought of me. I still take that nonconformist attitude into my adult life, though I’ve calmed down just a little bit during those lengthy years. Thank you, George, for bringing me the mental emancipation I needed from dull G-rated comedy that makes no goddamn sense. He’s been dead for a whole decade now, but I still keep his comedy close to my heart.
The lesson for the day: if you must process creative fuel and form your personal identity around it, don’t let anybody tell you you can’t do this or you can’t do that. Do what feels right to you. Do what makes you happy. Unless you’re a serial killer, in which case, you should probably surrender yourself to the authorities. Other than that, try not to crack under the pressures of society. They don’t care about you and your dreams. They only care about keeping the machine moving, a machine which grinds individuality into pieces of homogenous meat. I told you Pink Floyd the Wall had a strong influence on me! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!
***COMEDY ROUTINE OF THE DAY***
“Let’s take a look at some of these food words, particularly “old-fashioned”. When you hear the words “old-fashioned”, you’re supposed to think, “Oh, this goes back to the old days!” Right! The old days! Before we had sanitation laws. Before hygiene became popular. When botulism was still considered to be a sauce. Old-fashioned is supposed to give you a warm feeling. It makes you think about your grandma. Well, I don’t know about you, but when I’m picking out food, I don’t want to picture ninety pounds of wrinkles in a black dress…with a big hairy mole sticking out…and an infected lip.”
-George Carlin, 1937-2008-
Just a quick heads up to readers of Beautiful Monster: chapter eleven will be featured exclusively on Wattpad and nowhere else due to its strong sexual content. You won’t need a trigger warning this time, because the sex will be consensual (and maybe a little pornographic, depending on my own personal knowledge of sex). This chapter has been a long time coming, though it’s only the beginning of a much larger story of recovery and sensitivity.
***THE LAST CHILD COMEDIAN***
Many of you already know this, but when it comes to my sense of humor and my writing, George Carlin has always been one of my biggest influences. He swears like a sailor, he’s unafraid of being censored, he’s poignant as hell, and best of all, he’s funnier than a motherfucker. Speaking of which, “A father is a motherfucker.” That’s a direct line from George Carlin and it got my laugh motor going at the time. Thank god he came into my life when he did, because my sense of humor was suffering as an early teenager slash little kid.
Before Curious George became part of my comedic repertoire, I had guys like Johnny Carson and Benny Hill giving me my fill. There’s nothing wrong with either of those two comedians, but there was something wrong with the way I’ve processed their jokes into my own creativity. They told a lot of adult jokes that I wasn’t old enough to get yet, so all I had was their G-rated material. And from those jokes came some…questionable material on my part.
I knew it was questionable because when I told these manufactured jokes to my dad and brother, they didn’t laugh. Quite frankly, I don’t blame them. Want to hear my version of Jeff Foxworthy? Prepare to cringe hard. “If you fly all the way to Big Ben just to see what time it is, you might be a redneck.” Good god almighty. What the fuck? You think that’s awful, listen to this: “Why don’t criminals use pens? Because they might go to jail (pen as in penitentiary)”. Ugh. I’m cringing just writing these jokes down.
But it didn’t stop there. In fact, it got progressively worse. I’m sure my older brother remembers the infamous “Buttered Toast Shop” routine. It told the fictional story of a crabby restaurant owner with a lisp who only served buttered toast at his establishment. You couldn’t order anything else, not jam, not peanut butter, not even water. Just buttered toast. You also couldn’t dress like Wonder Woman in his diner because he’ll accuse you of wearing a diaper instead of a one-piece suit. I’ll let you all shiver for a few seconds before I continue.
And then there was a routine about a fat black guy named Tiny winning a vacation to Hawaii. Only he didn’t pronounce it the way people normally do. He pronounced it “Hwy.” That’s it. That’s the punch line for this whole joke. People would constantly try to correct him, but he just kept calling it “Hwy”, so he had his vacation revoked. I bet some alternative right motherfuckers would eat this shit up, but not my brother, who rightfully told me that my sense of humor was for little babies.
And then it got worse once again. My next routine was about an airline traveler who wanted to go to Japan, but kept getting his ass kicked by ninjas. In fact, the ninjas told him in a butchered sing-song accent, “We are the Japanese ninjas and we’re going to kick your butt!” Okay, so just don’t go to Japan. Problem solved. But then this traveler kept going to other countries and getting his ass kicked by ninjas. “We are the [Insert Foreign Country Here] ninjas and we’re going to kick your butt!” Even when he was on an airplane over the Pacific Ocean, he’d still get his ass kicked by international ninjas. Not one laugh. Not one goddamn laugh was earned that day. I can’t imagine why. Oh, excuse me. I can’t imagine “hwy”.
I didn’t watch my first George Carlin HBO special until I was fifteen years old. It was a VHS version of “Doing It Again”, where he talks about euphemisms, politically correct language, dog turds, and anything else that would make the censors rip their hair out. I watched these comedy bits and I thought to myself, “I want to do that!” So I took myself over to The Matrix Coffeehouse in Chehalis, Washington and performed George Carlin routines from memory. “If crime fighters fight crime and fire fighters fight fires, what do freedom fighters fight?” And of course, some wiseass from the crowd just had to yell, “Freedom!” Even so, I probably got more laughs doing this than I would have talking about a fictional Buttered Toast Shop.
It was from that George Carlin special along with the movie Pink Floyd the Wall that gave me my strong sense of individuality. I could crack offensive jokes and listen to devilish music without ever once caring what other people thought of me. I still take that nonconformist attitude into my adult life, though I’ve calmed down just a little bit during those lengthy years. Thank you, George, for bringing me the mental emancipation I needed from dull G-rated comedy that makes no goddamn sense. He’s been dead for a whole decade now, but I still keep his comedy close to my heart.
The lesson for the day: if you must process creative fuel and form your personal identity around it, don’t let anybody tell you you can’t do this or you can’t do that. Do what feels right to you. Do what makes you happy. Unless you’re a serial killer, in which case, you should probably surrender yourself to the authorities. Other than that, try not to crack under the pressures of society. They don’t care about you and your dreams. They only care about keeping the machine moving, a machine which grinds individuality into pieces of homogenous meat. I told you Pink Floyd the Wall had a strong influence on me! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!
***COMEDY ROUTINE OF THE DAY***
“Let’s take a look at some of these food words, particularly “old-fashioned”. When you hear the words “old-fashioned”, you’re supposed to think, “Oh, this goes back to the old days!” Right! The old days! Before we had sanitation laws. Before hygiene became popular. When botulism was still considered to be a sauce. Old-fashioned is supposed to give you a warm feeling. It makes you think about your grandma. Well, I don’t know about you, but when I’m picking out food, I don’t want to picture ninety pounds of wrinkles in a black dress…with a big hairy mole sticking out…and an infected lip.”
-George Carlin, 1937-2008-
Shy Guy Blues
VERSE 1
You think it’s cute when I stare at my shoes
As I try to shake off these shy guy blues
As I sit and stew over nothing really new
Sifting through creative fuel to see what’s true
It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me
It’s not like I’m the easiest guy to see
In a crowd full of people who love to chat
About the weather, their jobs, this, and that
VERSE 2
Confidence and charisma come so naturally
To those whose motto is “Love Actually”
I try to think of what I have to offer you
I’m coming up short, still the quiet attitude
I could write you a poem, but you won’t see it
Even if you could, you’d never believe it
It’s okay if you don’t want to crack my shell
I hope the rest of your day is going very well
BRIDGE
I don’t need to be a superman
Don’t need a shallow one night stand
Don’t need a pocket full of cash
I’ll just take a trip to sleepy land
VERSE 3
I dream about you every single night
I can’t tell you, because it isn’t right
You deserve every last of your comforts
My shy guy blues are my favorite cover
It’s okay if you think I’m just a coward
It’s okay if you don’t want to give me power
The shadows are my permanent address
For that, the two of us should feel blessed
You think it’s cute when I stare at my shoes
As I try to shake off these shy guy blues
As I sit and stew over nothing really new
Sifting through creative fuel to see what’s true
It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me
It’s not like I’m the easiest guy to see
In a crowd full of people who love to chat
About the weather, their jobs, this, and that
VERSE 2
Confidence and charisma come so naturally
To those whose motto is “Love Actually”
I try to think of what I have to offer you
I’m coming up short, still the quiet attitude
I could write you a poem, but you won’t see it
Even if you could, you’d never believe it
It’s okay if you don’t want to crack my shell
I hope the rest of your day is going very well
BRIDGE
I don’t need to be a superman
Don’t need a shallow one night stand
Don’t need a pocket full of cash
I’ll just take a trip to sleepy land
VERSE 3
I dream about you every single night
I can’t tell you, because it isn’t right
You deserve every last of your comforts
My shy guy blues are my favorite cover
It’s okay if you think I’m just a coward
It’s okay if you don’t want to give me power
The shadows are my permanent address
For that, the two of us should feel blessed
Goddess of Hate
VERSE 1
You took a struggle for many and made it a big joke
Taking the biggest of shots at the biggest of folks
You’re no beauty yourself, you’re ugly as sin
Your war on the world is one you cannot win
Eighty percent of people don’t look like you
I bet that makes you want to boil and stew
We called you out and you hid from the limelight
Hated being knocked from your perch so sky high
CHORUS
Goddess of Hate! X4
VERSE 2
Beating your boyfriend must make you so tough
But when he puts you on blast, you’ve had enough
Projecting yourself when you call him a bitch
Claiming every story is about getting rich
He doesn’t need you or your jealous ways
He doesn’t need you to make his family prey
If there was ever a time for the phrase “lock her up”
It applies to you, you disgusting mother fuck
CHORUS
Goddess of Hate! X4
VERSE 3
Are you happy now? You got your attention
In the hall of shame, you got your due mention
But that’s okay, just flip the double birds again
I’m sure that will get you plenty of new friends
EXTENDED CHORUS
Goddess of Hate!
Sealed your fate!
Took your own bait!
Gotcha! Checkmate!
Goddess of Hate!
Throwing your weight!
Give us a break!
From all your hate!
You took a struggle for many and made it a big joke
Taking the biggest of shots at the biggest of folks
You’re no beauty yourself, you’re ugly as sin
Your war on the world is one you cannot win
Eighty percent of people don’t look like you
I bet that makes you want to boil and stew
We called you out and you hid from the limelight
Hated being knocked from your perch so sky high
CHORUS
Goddess of Hate! X4
VERSE 2
Beating your boyfriend must make you so tough
But when he puts you on blast, you’ve had enough
Projecting yourself when you call him a bitch
Claiming every story is about getting rich
He doesn’t need you or your jealous ways
He doesn’t need you to make his family prey
If there was ever a time for the phrase “lock her up”
It applies to you, you disgusting mother fuck
CHORUS
Goddess of Hate! X4
VERSE 3
Are you happy now? You got your attention
In the hall of shame, you got your due mention
But that’s okay, just flip the double birds again
I’m sure that will get you plenty of new friends
EXTENDED CHORUS
Goddess of Hate!
Sealed your fate!
Took your own bait!
Gotcha! Checkmate!
Goddess of Hate!
Throwing your weight!
Give us a break!
From all your hate!
May 16, 2018
Disaster Porn
OPENING DIALOGUE
ADULT: You know, Chud, Japan was hit with an earthquake, Haiti was hit with an earthquake, there are wars going on in Iraq and Afghanistan, there’s starvation happening all over Africa…and you’re complaining about your love life? Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk!
VERSE 1
Not once have I thought of a starving African teen
And had all my nightmares turn into sweet dreams
Not once have I pictured bullets flying in the desert
And had all my struggles turn into minimal effort
Not once have I envisioned a high Richter scale
And had all my bad thoughts crash and derail
It’s not perspective, it’s goddamn disaster porn
Making you feel guilty for the way you were born
CHORUS
It doesn’t matter if someone has it worse
The pain inside will always fucking burn
The bleeding heart will always fucking hurt
Perspective doesn’t help get us out of hell
VERSE 2
There’s no true answer to what we all need
Whether it’s exercising until our bodies bleed
Meditation until our minds have gone numb
A college schedule to prove we’re all dumb
Soap carving, basket weaving, clay sculptures
Something to remember when we get older
There’s no one solution for everybody here
Everybody’s different when it comes to fear
CHORUS
It doesn’t matter if someone has it worse
The pain inside will always fucking burn
The bleeding heart will always fucking hurt
Perspective doesn’t help get us out of hell
VERSE 3
If I had a child, I wouldn’t feed him world crises
I’d listen to his every word, that’s fucking likely
Have an open door policy even when he grows up
Soothe his anxiety when he wants to throw up
Soothe his traumas when there’s too much drama
Ease his mind when faith is hardest to find
Building up kids is easier than repairing adults
It could be too late to erase every last insult
CHORUS
It doesn’t matter if someone has it worse
The pain inside will always fucking burn
The bleeding heart will always fucking hurt
Perspective doesn’t help get us out of hell
CLOSING DIALOGUE
ADULT: You know, Chud, if you don’t want your dinner, I could always send it to China and…
CHILD: Shut the fuck up!
ADULT: You know, Chud, Japan was hit with an earthquake, Haiti was hit with an earthquake, there are wars going on in Iraq and Afghanistan, there’s starvation happening all over Africa…and you’re complaining about your love life? Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk!
VERSE 1
Not once have I thought of a starving African teen
And had all my nightmares turn into sweet dreams
Not once have I pictured bullets flying in the desert
And had all my struggles turn into minimal effort
Not once have I envisioned a high Richter scale
And had all my bad thoughts crash and derail
It’s not perspective, it’s goddamn disaster porn
Making you feel guilty for the way you were born
CHORUS
It doesn’t matter if someone has it worse
The pain inside will always fucking burn
The bleeding heart will always fucking hurt
Perspective doesn’t help get us out of hell
VERSE 2
There’s no true answer to what we all need
Whether it’s exercising until our bodies bleed
Meditation until our minds have gone numb
A college schedule to prove we’re all dumb
Soap carving, basket weaving, clay sculptures
Something to remember when we get older
There’s no one solution for everybody here
Everybody’s different when it comes to fear
CHORUS
It doesn’t matter if someone has it worse
The pain inside will always fucking burn
The bleeding heart will always fucking hurt
Perspective doesn’t help get us out of hell
VERSE 3
If I had a child, I wouldn’t feed him world crises
I’d listen to his every word, that’s fucking likely
Have an open door policy even when he grows up
Soothe his anxiety when he wants to throw up
Soothe his traumas when there’s too much drama
Ease his mind when faith is hardest to find
Building up kids is easier than repairing adults
It could be too late to erase every last insult
CHORUS
It doesn’t matter if someone has it worse
The pain inside will always fucking burn
The bleeding heart will always fucking hurt
Perspective doesn’t help get us out of hell
CLOSING DIALOGUE
ADULT: You know, Chud, if you don’t want your dinner, I could always send it to China and…
CHILD: Shut the fuck up!
May 15, 2018
Beautiful Monster, Chapter 10
(FLASHBACK)
Windham Xavier wandered down the darkened hallway with a whip in one hand and his “theatrical prop” in the other, albeit the latter held behind his back. “Where is that bitch?” he kept muttering to himself over and over again like a monk’s chant. He didn’t have to look too far out of reach. All he had to do was ease a large wooden door open to see his rapist dancing in her black wedding dress, all alone in her personal library with lit candles around her. Windham secretly wondered what kind of books she was reading that would make her act the way she did.
The elf couldn’t believe how arrogant and happy Shelly Atwood looked while twirling around obliviously like that. The dance party was over as soon as Windham finally got her attention with the crack of his whip. The vampire lady jumped at the harsh sound before slowly turning around to see her victim fully dressed in his metal armor. The raw emotions on his face protected even more of himself than he was letting on. Shelly, on the other hand, had wide eyes of horror.
She chuckled nervously, “I bet Torger’s not going to be happy with you.”
Holding it by the long, greasy hair, Windham revealed his theatrical prop to be the head of the vampire stepbrother in question, dripping with blood from the neck down. Shelly’s terrified breathing deepened while the elf bluntly said, “Torger’s not going to like shit.” He then drop kicked the head like a soccer ball across the library and at Shelly’s bare feet.
Shelly whimpered while kneeling down and cradling the severed head in her arms like a baby. “No,” she sobbed to herself. She accidentally got blood on her face as she wiped away her tears. “No!” she repeated over and over again before going into a full-on crying fit.
“Your crocodile tears have no effect on me,” said Windham coldly. “You knew that this was a long time coming. You knew you couldn’t keep me under lock and key forever. For god’s sake, you and Torger were too lazy to tighten the fucking straps! I guess forcing me to marry you wasn’t that important after all.”
“…You….you’re a fucking monster!”
“My, how quickly the roles have reversed. Bullies seem to have no problem playing the victim when it’s convenient. Meanwhile, I’ve been a victim of yours for god knows how long. Every time you kissed me, every time you touched me, every time you got me off, all I wanted to do was the same thing you’re doing now: bawl like a fucking baby!”
Shelly continued to wipe away tears with bloody fingers. She smiled sadly at Windham and said, “You can cry in front of me if you want to. I won’t judge you.”
“Give me a fucking break!” snapped Windham as a tiny tear rolled down his cheek. “I’ll bet you anything that if I was a disfigured fat fuck, you wouldn’t be saying that shit to me! You kidnapped me because of my looks! You didn’t bother to get to know me! You don’t even know my fucking name! Well, let me formally introduce myself! I’m Windham Alfred Xavier. Yes, my initials spell the word WAX, but that’s about the only funny thing there is about me. What I’m about to do to you is far from comedy unless you’re talking in terms of Dante.”
“I didn’t kidnap you because of your looks, Windham,” sobbed Shelly. “I actually wanted someone to love me for the rest of my life. Is that too much to ask?! Is it too much to fucking ask that I get some goddamn unconditional love?!” The vampire lady shot up to her feet and tossed the severed head to the ground before letting even more tears fall.
At this point, the victimizer looked too pathetic for words, according to Windham. He almost felt sorry for her. He felt enough sympathy at that moment that he spoke to her with gentleness in his voice instead of rage. “I know it isn’t fair. I know how hard you try. But if you want love and affection in this world, you have to earn it by being a good person, not by throwing a fit. Your looks alone would make any man lucky to have you. But it’s your coldhearted attitude that makes you the most unattractive woman in the world.”
Shelly’s sorrow turned to bitter anger as her fists clenched and her body trembled. She bore her vampire fangs while kneeling down to pick up her stepbrother’s head by the hair. “Screw you, Windham Xavier...Screw you!” Without missing another beat, Shelly rushed into combat with her victim, swinging the severed head around like a morning star. She was surprisingly quick with her assault as Windham had to work extra hard to dodge every strike. He ducked down to avoid a high shot and winced as the severed head smashed the stone doorway.
Shelly raised the head in the air and attempted to splatter Windham’s brains across the wall. But the elf was ready and landed a whiplash to the rapist’s stomach, opening a nasty crimson wound and doubling her to the floor screaming like a bitch. The last of Windham’s sympathy for this woman dissipated as he now bore a look of disgust on his face. He continued to strike her with the whip and open new fountain gashes on her thighs, arms, chest, and face. She could do nothing but scream until her voice was raw and bloody.
Windham’s eyes grew wide with wild rage. He clenched his own teeth and breathed like a psychopath. “You think I’m done with you?! You think this is over?! It’s not over until I say it’s over!” growled the elf. “Where the hell is my grappling hook?!” He felt around his waist area and found what he was looking for. He gazed at it for an uncomfortably long time with violence in his eyes and a smile on his insane face.
The elf dragged Shelly by her bloody arm toward the center of the library while placing one of the tall candle sticks above her. “Yeah, I like this already! Woo-hoo!” he exclaimed. Windham attached the grappling hook to his blood-soaked whip and twirled it around before tossing it over the tallest bookcase in the room. He still wondered what it was Shelly liked to read. Porn? Romance novels? Pornographic romance novels? Whatever it was, he was certain it couldn’t have been good for her already fucked up brain.
“There won’t be enough water in this world to put out the fucking fire, bitch! Not even all my pent up tears could put this shit out!” screamed Windham as he tugged on the bookcase.
“You can still cry in front of me! It’s not too late to show me you care!” whimpered Shelly in her bloodied state.
“…Goodbye, beautiful monster,” said Windham with a mocking air kiss at the end. A few more strength-defying tugs and the oversized keeper of erotic tomes came crashing down upon both Shelly at the lit candlestick. The sickening crunch of bones and the burst of flames nearly made Windham orgasm with delight.
Even as everything around him started to burn, Windham danced around shouting “Woo-hoo!” and singing “I need to ignore the pain!” The flames burned brightly around him as Shelly’s life juices flooded the floor. Not even blood as cold as hers could extinguish the singeing flames. Windham couldn’t put the fire out himself even if he wanted to. Instead he ran down the hallways of the castle singing and shouting while flailing his arms in the air like a loony toon.
The flames grew around him and what was once a stronghold of royal fortitude crumbled into ashes and rubble. Windham’s insanity was the perfect mask for the adrenaline-boost he was feeling. He ran away from the inferno clowning around and even adding back flips to his dance repertoire. Once he reached the front door, he leveled the heavy wood with a wrestling-style drop kick (it was already softened somewhat from the spreading blaze).
By the time Windham ran his heart into exhaustion, the burning castle was far behind him, but was no less beautiful to look at in the distance. Daylight had already approached, so the sunshine made the flames even more heavenly to look at. Windham had stopped clowning around and dropped to his knees, mouth drooling, eyes dripping, and muscles aching and pulsating.
“I did it…” he grinned to himself. “I did it. I fucking did it. They’re dead. They’re finally dead! The nightmare is over!” The last part of his celebratory rant was clearly a lie as his senses dulled out and his mind numbed itself to the pain of rape. It didn’t stop him from singing one of his favorite tunes of all time in his angelic voice: “Crush the bones…burn the body…crush the bones…burn the body…crush the bones…”
Windham Xavier wandered down the darkened hallway with a whip in one hand and his “theatrical prop” in the other, albeit the latter held behind his back. “Where is that bitch?” he kept muttering to himself over and over again like a monk’s chant. He didn’t have to look too far out of reach. All he had to do was ease a large wooden door open to see his rapist dancing in her black wedding dress, all alone in her personal library with lit candles around her. Windham secretly wondered what kind of books she was reading that would make her act the way she did.
The elf couldn’t believe how arrogant and happy Shelly Atwood looked while twirling around obliviously like that. The dance party was over as soon as Windham finally got her attention with the crack of his whip. The vampire lady jumped at the harsh sound before slowly turning around to see her victim fully dressed in his metal armor. The raw emotions on his face protected even more of himself than he was letting on. Shelly, on the other hand, had wide eyes of horror.
She chuckled nervously, “I bet Torger’s not going to be happy with you.”
Holding it by the long, greasy hair, Windham revealed his theatrical prop to be the head of the vampire stepbrother in question, dripping with blood from the neck down. Shelly’s terrified breathing deepened while the elf bluntly said, “Torger’s not going to like shit.” He then drop kicked the head like a soccer ball across the library and at Shelly’s bare feet.
Shelly whimpered while kneeling down and cradling the severed head in her arms like a baby. “No,” she sobbed to herself. She accidentally got blood on her face as she wiped away her tears. “No!” she repeated over and over again before going into a full-on crying fit.
“Your crocodile tears have no effect on me,” said Windham coldly. “You knew that this was a long time coming. You knew you couldn’t keep me under lock and key forever. For god’s sake, you and Torger were too lazy to tighten the fucking straps! I guess forcing me to marry you wasn’t that important after all.”
“…You….you’re a fucking monster!”
“My, how quickly the roles have reversed. Bullies seem to have no problem playing the victim when it’s convenient. Meanwhile, I’ve been a victim of yours for god knows how long. Every time you kissed me, every time you touched me, every time you got me off, all I wanted to do was the same thing you’re doing now: bawl like a fucking baby!”
Shelly continued to wipe away tears with bloody fingers. She smiled sadly at Windham and said, “You can cry in front of me if you want to. I won’t judge you.”
“Give me a fucking break!” snapped Windham as a tiny tear rolled down his cheek. “I’ll bet you anything that if I was a disfigured fat fuck, you wouldn’t be saying that shit to me! You kidnapped me because of my looks! You didn’t bother to get to know me! You don’t even know my fucking name! Well, let me formally introduce myself! I’m Windham Alfred Xavier. Yes, my initials spell the word WAX, but that’s about the only funny thing there is about me. What I’m about to do to you is far from comedy unless you’re talking in terms of Dante.”
“I didn’t kidnap you because of your looks, Windham,” sobbed Shelly. “I actually wanted someone to love me for the rest of my life. Is that too much to ask?! Is it too much to fucking ask that I get some goddamn unconditional love?!” The vampire lady shot up to her feet and tossed the severed head to the ground before letting even more tears fall.
At this point, the victimizer looked too pathetic for words, according to Windham. He almost felt sorry for her. He felt enough sympathy at that moment that he spoke to her with gentleness in his voice instead of rage. “I know it isn’t fair. I know how hard you try. But if you want love and affection in this world, you have to earn it by being a good person, not by throwing a fit. Your looks alone would make any man lucky to have you. But it’s your coldhearted attitude that makes you the most unattractive woman in the world.”
Shelly’s sorrow turned to bitter anger as her fists clenched and her body trembled. She bore her vampire fangs while kneeling down to pick up her stepbrother’s head by the hair. “Screw you, Windham Xavier...Screw you!” Without missing another beat, Shelly rushed into combat with her victim, swinging the severed head around like a morning star. She was surprisingly quick with her assault as Windham had to work extra hard to dodge every strike. He ducked down to avoid a high shot and winced as the severed head smashed the stone doorway.
Shelly raised the head in the air and attempted to splatter Windham’s brains across the wall. But the elf was ready and landed a whiplash to the rapist’s stomach, opening a nasty crimson wound and doubling her to the floor screaming like a bitch. The last of Windham’s sympathy for this woman dissipated as he now bore a look of disgust on his face. He continued to strike her with the whip and open new fountain gashes on her thighs, arms, chest, and face. She could do nothing but scream until her voice was raw and bloody.
Windham’s eyes grew wide with wild rage. He clenched his own teeth and breathed like a psychopath. “You think I’m done with you?! You think this is over?! It’s not over until I say it’s over!” growled the elf. “Where the hell is my grappling hook?!” He felt around his waist area and found what he was looking for. He gazed at it for an uncomfortably long time with violence in his eyes and a smile on his insane face.
The elf dragged Shelly by her bloody arm toward the center of the library while placing one of the tall candle sticks above her. “Yeah, I like this already! Woo-hoo!” he exclaimed. Windham attached the grappling hook to his blood-soaked whip and twirled it around before tossing it over the tallest bookcase in the room. He still wondered what it was Shelly liked to read. Porn? Romance novels? Pornographic romance novels? Whatever it was, he was certain it couldn’t have been good for her already fucked up brain.
“There won’t be enough water in this world to put out the fucking fire, bitch! Not even all my pent up tears could put this shit out!” screamed Windham as he tugged on the bookcase.
“You can still cry in front of me! It’s not too late to show me you care!” whimpered Shelly in her bloodied state.
“…Goodbye, beautiful monster,” said Windham with a mocking air kiss at the end. A few more strength-defying tugs and the oversized keeper of erotic tomes came crashing down upon both Shelly at the lit candlestick. The sickening crunch of bones and the burst of flames nearly made Windham orgasm with delight.
Even as everything around him started to burn, Windham danced around shouting “Woo-hoo!” and singing “I need to ignore the pain!” The flames burned brightly around him as Shelly’s life juices flooded the floor. Not even blood as cold as hers could extinguish the singeing flames. Windham couldn’t put the fire out himself even if he wanted to. Instead he ran down the hallways of the castle singing and shouting while flailing his arms in the air like a loony toon.
The flames grew around him and what was once a stronghold of royal fortitude crumbled into ashes and rubble. Windham’s insanity was the perfect mask for the adrenaline-boost he was feeling. He ran away from the inferno clowning around and even adding back flips to his dance repertoire. Once he reached the front door, he leveled the heavy wood with a wrestling-style drop kick (it was already softened somewhat from the spreading blaze).
By the time Windham ran his heart into exhaustion, the burning castle was far behind him, but was no less beautiful to look at in the distance. Daylight had already approached, so the sunshine made the flames even more heavenly to look at. Windham had stopped clowning around and dropped to his knees, mouth drooling, eyes dripping, and muscles aching and pulsating.
“I did it…” he grinned to himself. “I did it. I fucking did it. They’re dead. They’re finally dead! The nightmare is over!” The last part of his celebratory rant was clearly a lie as his senses dulled out and his mind numbed itself to the pain of rape. It didn’t stop him from singing one of his favorite tunes of all time in his angelic voice: “Crush the bones…burn the body…crush the bones…burn the body…crush the bones…”
You Couldn't Pay Me Enough
VERSE 1
Take the blue pill and everything is chill
Take the red pill and you lose free will
Take the black pill and get your incel thrills
Take the green pill, say goodbye to your bills
CHORUS
You couldn’t pay me enough
To act limousine tough
To have it trust fund rough
You couldn’t pay me enough
VERSE 2
Why would I leave behind this life I’ve built?
Repeating your rhetoric would fill me with guilt
I won’t fire your guns, I won’t take your funds
I won’t drink the Kool-Aid, I’m not fucking afraid
I’d rather be poor than be a puppet on a string
I’d rather have a soul than some material things
I’d rather keep my word to flip the fucking bird
To anybody who wishes to watch me fucking burn
EXTENDED CHORUS 1
You couldn’t pay me enough
To act limousine tough
To have it trust fund rough
You couldn’t pay me enough
Everyone’s got a price
For acting cold as ice
Just for conservative love
You couldn’t pay me enough
VERSE 3
If everyone has a price, yours was pretty low
Lower than a hooker getting ready to blow
Lower than a dead body after death row
Lower than a meal for a hungry ass crow
You let the golden water put out your fire
You were so desperate to be the newest hire
Guns, religion, and xenophobic division
Babies born without the mother’s permission
EXTENDED CHORUS 2
You couldn’t pay me enough
To act limousine tough
To have it trust fund rough
You couldn’t pay me enough
Playing the role of bitch
Made you so goddamn rich
Whatever lullaby you love
You couldn’t pay me enough
Take the blue pill and everything is chill
Take the red pill and you lose free will
Take the black pill and get your incel thrills
Take the green pill, say goodbye to your bills
CHORUS
You couldn’t pay me enough
To act limousine tough
To have it trust fund rough
You couldn’t pay me enough
VERSE 2
Why would I leave behind this life I’ve built?
Repeating your rhetoric would fill me with guilt
I won’t fire your guns, I won’t take your funds
I won’t drink the Kool-Aid, I’m not fucking afraid
I’d rather be poor than be a puppet on a string
I’d rather have a soul than some material things
I’d rather keep my word to flip the fucking bird
To anybody who wishes to watch me fucking burn
EXTENDED CHORUS 1
You couldn’t pay me enough
To act limousine tough
To have it trust fund rough
You couldn’t pay me enough
Everyone’s got a price
For acting cold as ice
Just for conservative love
You couldn’t pay me enough
VERSE 3
If everyone has a price, yours was pretty low
Lower than a hooker getting ready to blow
Lower than a dead body after death row
Lower than a meal for a hungry ass crow
You let the golden water put out your fire
You were so desperate to be the newest hire
Guns, religion, and xenophobic division
Babies born without the mother’s permission
EXTENDED CHORUS 2
You couldn’t pay me enough
To act limousine tough
To have it trust fund rough
You couldn’t pay me enough
Playing the role of bitch
Made you so goddamn rich
Whatever lullaby you love
You couldn’t pay me enough
May 10, 2018
Beautiful Monster Play List
***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER PLAY LIST***
Because music has a powerful influence over me and my art, I thought it was only right to put together a ten-song play list for my current WIP, Beautiful Monster. Mind you, this isn’t music I use while writing it. I always listen to wordless new age music whenever I write so as not to get easily distracted (except when writing blogs, of course, in which case, I’ll listen to anything). The play list in question has more to do with the songs’ influences on the story. For some of the songs, I use their lyrics as dialogue, while others just seem to fit perfectly with the events. Enough gum flapping. Let’s get right to the first track! And for the sake of keeping everything organized, the songs will be listed in alphabetical order by their band name. Starting with…
***BRIAN KENNEDY: DRY YOUR EYES (COVER SONG)***
This song was originally done by Mike Skinner a.k.a. The Streets, but to be honest, I like the Brian Kennedy version better. Let’s look at the title for a moment: Dry Your Eyes. Being unable to cry in front of people is a common theme with Windham Xavier’s characterization. Yes, he’s a male. Yes, he’s a hardened warrior. According to society, both of those things make crying a social taboo. There are many times in the novel where Windham would have been justified in unleashing his biblical flood of tears, but he chooses not to because he doesn’t want to give his attackers a reason to humiliate him. He only saves his tears for those who truly deserve them.
***BULLET FOR MY VALENTINE: TEARS DON’T FALL***
Another song about being unable to cry? Sure, why not? Although since it’s Bullet For My Valentine, there’s going to be a lot of screaming and rage. This song could technically be a battle theme for when Windham goes up against Torger and Shelly. It’s heavy, it’s badass, and it gets across its message perfectly. And just to clarify, Torger and Shelly are deemed undeserving of Windham’s tears despite the fact that they’re the reason he feels the way he does.
***DELAIN: COME CLOSER***
The phrase “come closer” is used a lot in my novel whether it’s Shelly’s hypnotic voice seducing Windham into captivity or Tarja urging him to open up and bare his soul to her. I might even have one of the characters sing the lyrics to this song, I don’t know yet. “Winter shadow cools you, white before your eyes. Summer shadow soothes you, nothing on your mind.” I don’t know what it is about the winter/summer shadow lines, but those are my favorite in the whole song.
***NIGHTWISH: WHILE YOUR LIPS ARE STILL RED***
The dramatic tension within Beautiful Monster is clearly urging Windham and Tarja to love each other, so this Nighwish song is the perfect anthem for their eventual romance. “Kiss while your lips are still red.” It’s just a more loving way of saying “kiss before you die”. With Windham’s chaotic mind and suicidal thoughts, you don’t know how long this is all going to last for him. Even after hooking up with Tarja, he still has to tell his story of captivity to the Commander. It’s doubtful even Tarja’s loving gestures could help him out with that one considering how insensitive and cruel everybody at Paladin Cross seems to be.
***OTHERWISE: BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***
Of course, where would this story be without its namesake? The phrase Beautiful Monster accurately describes Shelly Atwood along with the woman she draws inspiration from, Lucy Butler from Millennium. They’re both attractive as hell. They’re both the epitome of all evil. The only difference is, Lucy’s seductive ways are a means to an end while Shelly’s seduction is the end game. Lucy wants to create an army of brainwashed mediocre teenagers while Shelly wants all the free sex she can handle. These brutal features are evident in the opening lyrics of the song: “There’s something about the way that she makes me hate myself. I could run away but I don’t want no one else. Say what you want. It’s already done. It’s Russian Roulette and love is the gun. You don’t know her, you don’t know her like I do.”
***PANTERA: THIS LOVE***
It’s pretty obvious by the story’s actions so far what will go down in chapter ten. I won’t say what exactly, but the writing is on the wall for Shelly Atwood. Her time is running out. And what will Windham say to her? “I’d kill myself for you! I’d kill you for myself!” Phil Anselmo sounds like a total badass when he says that in this song. Windham, though not as stereotypically male as Phil, will hopefully sound just as brooding and cold.
***THE POLICE: I BURN FOR YOU***
Hopefully, Windham will get the opportunity to sing this lovely song to Tarja, the one woman who deserves his tears. “Now that I have found you in the coolth of your evening smile. The shade of your parasol. And your love flows through me. Though I drink at your pool, I burn for you. You and I are lovers. As nighttime falls around our bed. In peace we sleep entwined as your love flows through me. Though and ocean sooths my head, I burn for you.” This is by far The Police’s most romantic song. I could listen to it over and over again and picture having a beautiful woman to sing it to. Okay, Garrison, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here.
***SARA AYERS: ARE YOU COMING HOME?***
You know that meme that says, “Great writers steal”? Well, maybe I’ve taken that lesson too much to heart when it comes to this new age song, which can’t be found on You Tube unfortunately. The lyrics “crush the bones, burn the bodies” are what Windham sings to himself when he watches Shelly’s castle burn to the ground. The question “Where are you going, beautiful boy?” is also from that song, albeit said by Shelly during her seduction of Windham. There’s something powerful about Sara Ayers’ voice that makes any lyrics seem like pure heaven. That’s probably the point of her music.
***TOTO: I’LL BE OVER YOU***
Imagine having to sing this heartfelt breakup song to your female rapist. Luckily, Windham won’t have to do that. But the lyrics fit like OJ Simpson’s glove. “There were the nights holding you close. Someday I’ll try to forget them, as soon as my heart stops breaking, anticipating. As soon as forever is through, I’ll be over you.” No kidding, Windam. No fucking kidding!
***WITHIN TEMPTATION: FROZEN***
No, I’m not talking about the Disney princess song. I’m talking about a Within Temptation song dealing with the topic of domestic violence. Sharon Den Adel sings about how she can’t feel her senses, how she can only feel the cold. That’s what Windham feels when he’s watching the castle burn, as entertained by it as he is. That’s what psychological trauma does to the human brain: it dulls the senses and makes zombies out of the sharpest minds. Poor Windham. Poor, poor Windham.
***CONCLUSION***
So that’s all I have for you today. If you have any other ideas for what you’d like to see added to this list, let me know in the comments section. You can even go on You Tube and check out the songs that are on the list now (save for the Sara Ayers song, because it’s not there). I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!
***PUBLIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
CHOIR TEACHER: Our next song that we’re going to perform is called “Didn’t My Lord Deliver Daniel”.
JAMES: (doing a blunt affect Garrison voice) I hate religious songs.
GARRISON: Hahahahaha!
Because music has a powerful influence over me and my art, I thought it was only right to put together a ten-song play list for my current WIP, Beautiful Monster. Mind you, this isn’t music I use while writing it. I always listen to wordless new age music whenever I write so as not to get easily distracted (except when writing blogs, of course, in which case, I’ll listen to anything). The play list in question has more to do with the songs’ influences on the story. For some of the songs, I use their lyrics as dialogue, while others just seem to fit perfectly with the events. Enough gum flapping. Let’s get right to the first track! And for the sake of keeping everything organized, the songs will be listed in alphabetical order by their band name. Starting with…
***BRIAN KENNEDY: DRY YOUR EYES (COVER SONG)***
This song was originally done by Mike Skinner a.k.a. The Streets, but to be honest, I like the Brian Kennedy version better. Let’s look at the title for a moment: Dry Your Eyes. Being unable to cry in front of people is a common theme with Windham Xavier’s characterization. Yes, he’s a male. Yes, he’s a hardened warrior. According to society, both of those things make crying a social taboo. There are many times in the novel where Windham would have been justified in unleashing his biblical flood of tears, but he chooses not to because he doesn’t want to give his attackers a reason to humiliate him. He only saves his tears for those who truly deserve them.
***BULLET FOR MY VALENTINE: TEARS DON’T FALL***
Another song about being unable to cry? Sure, why not? Although since it’s Bullet For My Valentine, there’s going to be a lot of screaming and rage. This song could technically be a battle theme for when Windham goes up against Torger and Shelly. It’s heavy, it’s badass, and it gets across its message perfectly. And just to clarify, Torger and Shelly are deemed undeserving of Windham’s tears despite the fact that they’re the reason he feels the way he does.
***DELAIN: COME CLOSER***
The phrase “come closer” is used a lot in my novel whether it’s Shelly’s hypnotic voice seducing Windham into captivity or Tarja urging him to open up and bare his soul to her. I might even have one of the characters sing the lyrics to this song, I don’t know yet. “Winter shadow cools you, white before your eyes. Summer shadow soothes you, nothing on your mind.” I don’t know what it is about the winter/summer shadow lines, but those are my favorite in the whole song.
***NIGHTWISH: WHILE YOUR LIPS ARE STILL RED***
The dramatic tension within Beautiful Monster is clearly urging Windham and Tarja to love each other, so this Nighwish song is the perfect anthem for their eventual romance. “Kiss while your lips are still red.” It’s just a more loving way of saying “kiss before you die”. With Windham’s chaotic mind and suicidal thoughts, you don’t know how long this is all going to last for him. Even after hooking up with Tarja, he still has to tell his story of captivity to the Commander. It’s doubtful even Tarja’s loving gestures could help him out with that one considering how insensitive and cruel everybody at Paladin Cross seems to be.
***OTHERWISE: BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***
Of course, where would this story be without its namesake? The phrase Beautiful Monster accurately describes Shelly Atwood along with the woman she draws inspiration from, Lucy Butler from Millennium. They’re both attractive as hell. They’re both the epitome of all evil. The only difference is, Lucy’s seductive ways are a means to an end while Shelly’s seduction is the end game. Lucy wants to create an army of brainwashed mediocre teenagers while Shelly wants all the free sex she can handle. These brutal features are evident in the opening lyrics of the song: “There’s something about the way that she makes me hate myself. I could run away but I don’t want no one else. Say what you want. It’s already done. It’s Russian Roulette and love is the gun. You don’t know her, you don’t know her like I do.”
***PANTERA: THIS LOVE***
It’s pretty obvious by the story’s actions so far what will go down in chapter ten. I won’t say what exactly, but the writing is on the wall for Shelly Atwood. Her time is running out. And what will Windham say to her? “I’d kill myself for you! I’d kill you for myself!” Phil Anselmo sounds like a total badass when he says that in this song. Windham, though not as stereotypically male as Phil, will hopefully sound just as brooding and cold.
***THE POLICE: I BURN FOR YOU***
Hopefully, Windham will get the opportunity to sing this lovely song to Tarja, the one woman who deserves his tears. “Now that I have found you in the coolth of your evening smile. The shade of your parasol. And your love flows through me. Though I drink at your pool, I burn for you. You and I are lovers. As nighttime falls around our bed. In peace we sleep entwined as your love flows through me. Though and ocean sooths my head, I burn for you.” This is by far The Police’s most romantic song. I could listen to it over and over again and picture having a beautiful woman to sing it to. Okay, Garrison, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here.
***SARA AYERS: ARE YOU COMING HOME?***
You know that meme that says, “Great writers steal”? Well, maybe I’ve taken that lesson too much to heart when it comes to this new age song, which can’t be found on You Tube unfortunately. The lyrics “crush the bones, burn the bodies” are what Windham sings to himself when he watches Shelly’s castle burn to the ground. The question “Where are you going, beautiful boy?” is also from that song, albeit said by Shelly during her seduction of Windham. There’s something powerful about Sara Ayers’ voice that makes any lyrics seem like pure heaven. That’s probably the point of her music.
***TOTO: I’LL BE OVER YOU***
Imagine having to sing this heartfelt breakup song to your female rapist. Luckily, Windham won’t have to do that. But the lyrics fit like OJ Simpson’s glove. “There were the nights holding you close. Someday I’ll try to forget them, as soon as my heart stops breaking, anticipating. As soon as forever is through, I’ll be over you.” No kidding, Windam. No fucking kidding!
***WITHIN TEMPTATION: FROZEN***
No, I’m not talking about the Disney princess song. I’m talking about a Within Temptation song dealing with the topic of domestic violence. Sharon Den Adel sings about how she can’t feel her senses, how she can only feel the cold. That’s what Windham feels when he’s watching the castle burn, as entertained by it as he is. That’s what psychological trauma does to the human brain: it dulls the senses and makes zombies out of the sharpest minds. Poor Windham. Poor, poor Windham.
***CONCLUSION***
So that’s all I have for you today. If you have any other ideas for what you’d like to see added to this list, let me know in the comments section. You can even go on You Tube and check out the songs that are on the list now (save for the Sara Ayers song, because it’s not there). I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!
***PUBLIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
CHOIR TEACHER: Our next song that we’re going to perform is called “Didn’t My Lord Deliver Daniel”.
JAMES: (doing a blunt affect Garrison voice) I hate religious songs.
GARRISON: Hahahahaha!
May 9, 2018
Beautiful Monster, Chapter 9
(PRESENT DAY)
Déjà vu had taken over just like it had in Windham Xavier’s mind over and over again. The elf sat around the campfire with a blanket around his bare shoulders while Tarja boiled a pot of tea over the flames. Instead of feeling numbed out with frozen senses, Windham felt a heavy relaxation wash over his aching limbs. He still gazed into the fire with glassy eyes, but his attention wasn’t completely divided. As soon as the tea was done boiling, Tarja poured it into two mugs and gave Windham his own. He winced slightly upon touching the warm handle, but overall he didn’t mind the heat.
The two knights sat beside each other sipping tea and allowing the crackling of the campfire to sooth their woes. Silence hung between them, not because of awkwardness, but because such a rarity in their occupations was actually enjoyable. No wild bandits, no shouting horses, just birds chirping and squirrels darting across the ground here and there. But the more they avoided this eventual conversation, the more Windham’s anxiety was allowed to build up in his stomach.
Tarja initiated the peaceful talk by rubbing her palm across the elf’s shoulders, calming his anxiety if only for a little while. She said, “In case Commander Rinehart doesn’t get the message, there’s nothing funny, romantic, or sexy about what happened to you. Men can be assaulted just like women can. The stigmas are different for each sex, but the consequences are the same: a head full of trauma and a heart full of pain.”
Windham shook his head and sighed, “My only regret was that I didn’t kill those two bastards sooner. I mean…if I did to Torger in the forest what I did to him in the castle, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“That’s the last I want to hear of you blaming yourself, Windham,” said Tarja while sliding her hand down to his upper back for more comfort. “Rape is never the victim’s fault no matter what the circumstances are. It could happen to anybody regardless of fighting skills. The blame falls squarely on the shoulders of two people: Shelly Atwood and Torger Manson. But now that we’re on the topic of those two derelicts, I have to ask you something and please, be honest with me. How do you feel after killing them?”
The two knights sipped their tea some more as a reasonable answer attempted to brew within Windham. “I should be on top of the world right now. I should be doing back flips for days. But instead I feel empty. It’s like killing them didn’t change a damn thing. I’m still embarrassed to talk about it. I still fear for my life. I’m still afraid of what the boys back at Paladin Cross might say. But more importantly, I feel like my mind is betraying me right now. I have a job to do and it won’t give me any peace from those memories. If you can’t concentrate, you can’t work. It’s that simple.”
Tarja began massaging Windham’s neck as she said, “I’m not saying this will ultimately happen, but maybe I can talk the Commander into giving you a temporary vacation so that you can recover.”
“No!” snapped Windham, causing Tarja to jerk her hand away in fear. He calmed right back down and said, “I can’t do that. I have to keep working. That’s my life’s purpose. That’s what I endured all of that training for. I can’t just throw it all away because my stupid goddamn brain doesn’t want to cooperate with me.”
Resting her head on Windham’s shoulder, Tarja said, “The Paladin Cross isn’t your whole life. It may seem like a lifestyle instead of just a job, but you’re more than your occupation. You have emotions. You have wants and needs. After you report your findings to Commander Rinehart, you desperately need to take a few days off, maybe even a week. Imagine if the trauma kicked in while you were on the battlefield. It could either mean you’ll do something you’ll regret later on or you’ll hesitate long enough to get yourself killed.”
“And what do you propose I do during this week long absence that Rinehart will supposedly grant me? Go traveling? Spend some time in the forest to get away from it all? Oh wait, I was already in a forest and look how that turned out.”
Tarja sipped her tea and said, “You can do whatever you want with your time off as long as you’re not hurting yourself or anybody else. Write a book. Read a few books. Go horseback riding. Do something to keep your mind occupied. That’s what I always do whenever I feel distracted. If your mind is occupied with a creative activity, nothing else matters.”
Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Windham said, “Creative activity? I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it, Windham. I already know you can sing. Maybe if you find some lyrics other than ‘crush the bones, burn the bodies’, you can actually get some enjoyment out of it. Everybody starts somewhere. It’s true with art and it’s true with everything else in life. Surely, you didn’t come out of the womb with polished fighting skills. That was something you had to learn. Maybe if you just tried to make something out of clay or write a sonnet, you might see how therapeutic it really is. You certainly know how to destroy. I bet you know how to create too.”
“I don’t know, Tarja, I just…I just want something a little more …you know….permanent. Something that will happen instantly and immediately. I can’t wait for a clay sculpture to be completed. I need something now.”
Holding Windham’s hand in hers, Tarja said, “That seems to be the worst part about suffering through psychological trauma. There is no instant solution. There is no miracle cure. Coping with it is a skill that one develops over time, just like that clay sculpture you just mentioned. I know you’re eager to heal from this pain and move on with your life. But you need to be patient and put in the hard work. Everything you accomplish in this life is because you’ve earned it. Nobody’s going to give you a happily ever after from your worst nightmares. You have to find it.”
“So you’re admitting that all of these loving gestures you’re giving me are unhelpful at worst.”
“I admit no such thing, Windham. I can help you with whatever you need. All you have to do is meet me halfway. That includes not trying to drown yourself in the river. It also includes not whipping the shit out of a female bandit until she dies a brutal and unnecessary death. If you need a partner to get you through this, I will be your rock.”
The elf sighed and sipped his tea some more, allowing silence to build between himself and Tarja. He shook his head and said, “You’ve been so kind to me during this trip and I still don’t even know why. All I’ve ever done for you was be a whiny asshole. You put up with me this whole time. What do you see in me, anyways?”
Tarja put down her mug and softly said, “I see something in you that I don’t see in other men. I see vulnerability. I see someone who’s not afraid to be himself. I see someone who doesn’t conform easily. I see a beautiful soul.” She brushed a few hairs out of the elf’s eyes and said, “I just wish you’d see these things in yourself. A positive mindset will go a long way in helping you recover. But just like with everything else in life, it’s a skill that must be polished.” The two of them sat in silence together holding hands and staring into the flames. “Goodnight, Windham. Think about what I’ve said and we’ll talk more in the daylight.”
Before Tarja could get up and tuck herself to sleep, Windham held onto her hand for a little longer. When she refused to fight the semi-strong grip, the elf planted an unexpected kiss on her cheek. Her face flushed with redness at the gesture and her smiles came from a place of embarrassment.
“Sorry,” said Windham. “I just felt like doing that for some reason. I hope you don’t think I’m a pervert. I wasn’t trying to…”
Tarja placed a finger on his lips and shushed him gently. “You’re not a pervert, Windham. You’re just feeling emotional tonight. And to be honest…I like that in a man.” Her warmest smile felt genuine as she returned the kiss on the elf’s cheek.
The two of them looked in each other’s eyes for the longest time. While one hand held Windham’s, Tarja’s other hand stroked his long blond hair. She even included a few fingernail scrapes across his scalp. And then without further warning, the two of them shared a long, passionate tongue kiss before separating quickly, Tarja’s eyebrows high above her face.
“Are you sure you want to do this? Do you really feel ready for it?” she asked.
“I know it doesn’t feel right, but I’m ready for it, Tarja. Let’s do this.”
“Very well then. But if at any time you want to back out, please tell me. I don’t want to set you off if something goes wrong.”
Once the terms were understood, the two of them resumed their make-out session with no clear aggressor between the two. That was something Windham had craved all along: to feel equal to those around him. He didn’t want to take over. He wanted to share this moment with someone who genuinely loved him.
Déjà vu had taken over just like it had in Windham Xavier’s mind over and over again. The elf sat around the campfire with a blanket around his bare shoulders while Tarja boiled a pot of tea over the flames. Instead of feeling numbed out with frozen senses, Windham felt a heavy relaxation wash over his aching limbs. He still gazed into the fire with glassy eyes, but his attention wasn’t completely divided. As soon as the tea was done boiling, Tarja poured it into two mugs and gave Windham his own. He winced slightly upon touching the warm handle, but overall he didn’t mind the heat.
The two knights sat beside each other sipping tea and allowing the crackling of the campfire to sooth their woes. Silence hung between them, not because of awkwardness, but because such a rarity in their occupations was actually enjoyable. No wild bandits, no shouting horses, just birds chirping and squirrels darting across the ground here and there. But the more they avoided this eventual conversation, the more Windham’s anxiety was allowed to build up in his stomach.
Tarja initiated the peaceful talk by rubbing her palm across the elf’s shoulders, calming his anxiety if only for a little while. She said, “In case Commander Rinehart doesn’t get the message, there’s nothing funny, romantic, or sexy about what happened to you. Men can be assaulted just like women can. The stigmas are different for each sex, but the consequences are the same: a head full of trauma and a heart full of pain.”
Windham shook his head and sighed, “My only regret was that I didn’t kill those two bastards sooner. I mean…if I did to Torger in the forest what I did to him in the castle, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“That’s the last I want to hear of you blaming yourself, Windham,” said Tarja while sliding her hand down to his upper back for more comfort. “Rape is never the victim’s fault no matter what the circumstances are. It could happen to anybody regardless of fighting skills. The blame falls squarely on the shoulders of two people: Shelly Atwood and Torger Manson. But now that we’re on the topic of those two derelicts, I have to ask you something and please, be honest with me. How do you feel after killing them?”
The two knights sipped their tea some more as a reasonable answer attempted to brew within Windham. “I should be on top of the world right now. I should be doing back flips for days. But instead I feel empty. It’s like killing them didn’t change a damn thing. I’m still embarrassed to talk about it. I still fear for my life. I’m still afraid of what the boys back at Paladin Cross might say. But more importantly, I feel like my mind is betraying me right now. I have a job to do and it won’t give me any peace from those memories. If you can’t concentrate, you can’t work. It’s that simple.”
Tarja began massaging Windham’s neck as she said, “I’m not saying this will ultimately happen, but maybe I can talk the Commander into giving you a temporary vacation so that you can recover.”
“No!” snapped Windham, causing Tarja to jerk her hand away in fear. He calmed right back down and said, “I can’t do that. I have to keep working. That’s my life’s purpose. That’s what I endured all of that training for. I can’t just throw it all away because my stupid goddamn brain doesn’t want to cooperate with me.”
Resting her head on Windham’s shoulder, Tarja said, “The Paladin Cross isn’t your whole life. It may seem like a lifestyle instead of just a job, but you’re more than your occupation. You have emotions. You have wants and needs. After you report your findings to Commander Rinehart, you desperately need to take a few days off, maybe even a week. Imagine if the trauma kicked in while you were on the battlefield. It could either mean you’ll do something you’ll regret later on or you’ll hesitate long enough to get yourself killed.”
“And what do you propose I do during this week long absence that Rinehart will supposedly grant me? Go traveling? Spend some time in the forest to get away from it all? Oh wait, I was already in a forest and look how that turned out.”
Tarja sipped her tea and said, “You can do whatever you want with your time off as long as you’re not hurting yourself or anybody else. Write a book. Read a few books. Go horseback riding. Do something to keep your mind occupied. That’s what I always do whenever I feel distracted. If your mind is occupied with a creative activity, nothing else matters.”
Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Windham said, “Creative activity? I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it, Windham. I already know you can sing. Maybe if you find some lyrics other than ‘crush the bones, burn the bodies’, you can actually get some enjoyment out of it. Everybody starts somewhere. It’s true with art and it’s true with everything else in life. Surely, you didn’t come out of the womb with polished fighting skills. That was something you had to learn. Maybe if you just tried to make something out of clay or write a sonnet, you might see how therapeutic it really is. You certainly know how to destroy. I bet you know how to create too.”
“I don’t know, Tarja, I just…I just want something a little more …you know….permanent. Something that will happen instantly and immediately. I can’t wait for a clay sculpture to be completed. I need something now.”
Holding Windham’s hand in hers, Tarja said, “That seems to be the worst part about suffering through psychological trauma. There is no instant solution. There is no miracle cure. Coping with it is a skill that one develops over time, just like that clay sculpture you just mentioned. I know you’re eager to heal from this pain and move on with your life. But you need to be patient and put in the hard work. Everything you accomplish in this life is because you’ve earned it. Nobody’s going to give you a happily ever after from your worst nightmares. You have to find it.”
“So you’re admitting that all of these loving gestures you’re giving me are unhelpful at worst.”
“I admit no such thing, Windham. I can help you with whatever you need. All you have to do is meet me halfway. That includes not trying to drown yourself in the river. It also includes not whipping the shit out of a female bandit until she dies a brutal and unnecessary death. If you need a partner to get you through this, I will be your rock.”
The elf sighed and sipped his tea some more, allowing silence to build between himself and Tarja. He shook his head and said, “You’ve been so kind to me during this trip and I still don’t even know why. All I’ve ever done for you was be a whiny asshole. You put up with me this whole time. What do you see in me, anyways?”
Tarja put down her mug and softly said, “I see something in you that I don’t see in other men. I see vulnerability. I see someone who’s not afraid to be himself. I see someone who doesn’t conform easily. I see a beautiful soul.” She brushed a few hairs out of the elf’s eyes and said, “I just wish you’d see these things in yourself. A positive mindset will go a long way in helping you recover. But just like with everything else in life, it’s a skill that must be polished.” The two of them sat in silence together holding hands and staring into the flames. “Goodnight, Windham. Think about what I’ve said and we’ll talk more in the daylight.”
Before Tarja could get up and tuck herself to sleep, Windham held onto her hand for a little longer. When she refused to fight the semi-strong grip, the elf planted an unexpected kiss on her cheek. Her face flushed with redness at the gesture and her smiles came from a place of embarrassment.
“Sorry,” said Windham. “I just felt like doing that for some reason. I hope you don’t think I’m a pervert. I wasn’t trying to…”
Tarja placed a finger on his lips and shushed him gently. “You’re not a pervert, Windham. You’re just feeling emotional tonight. And to be honest…I like that in a man.” Her warmest smile felt genuine as she returned the kiss on the elf’s cheek.
The two of them looked in each other’s eyes for the longest time. While one hand held Windham’s, Tarja’s other hand stroked his long blond hair. She even included a few fingernail scrapes across his scalp. And then without further warning, the two of them shared a long, passionate tongue kiss before separating quickly, Tarja’s eyebrows high above her face.
“Are you sure you want to do this? Do you really feel ready for it?” she asked.
“I know it doesn’t feel right, but I’m ready for it, Tarja. Let’s do this.”
“Very well then. But if at any time you want to back out, please tell me. I don’t want to set you off if something goes wrong.”
Once the terms were understood, the two of them resumed their make-out session with no clear aggressor between the two. That was something Windham had craved all along: to feel equal to those around him. He didn’t want to take over. He wanted to share this moment with someone who genuinely loved him.
