The Changents 7: Indigo Blues 4 – Hot-head Luke

“The feel of maternal security from woman’s sweaters and jackets was generally all I needed. I am definitely not the type to succumb to feminine wiles to the point of having midnight laisons with prostitutes. Then again, between gigs of being a Karate instructor from 7-8 and a small-fry arms dealer from 10-11 that is exactly what I did on that particular day with that particular woman of the night. My only excuse was that I was on autopilot and took leave of my senses. Her mature eyes locked onto mine as her lady fingers hit me like smart bombs. The good news was that I was not the type to kick a girl out before breakfast. I was a gentleman and gave her a bowl of Boo Berry.  The bad news? Her tongue was blue.”

-originally posted by Lucas Clayton Jr. on Insexurities.sco

When I got sick of my so-called team-mates ignoring me at the residence of Nature Critic’s little meeting and when my buzz wore off I finally decided to drive my truck home to my not-so-swinging bachelor pad. I could have made a “scene at the crime” and cried about how I was being avoided. But that just wasn’t my style. I much more preferred to count to ten and plan ahead on being the death of a later party, especially parties I was not invited to. Needless to say I took the night off and watched Bloodsport before throwing my warm coat over me and falling asleep on the cold floor.

The next day, I awoke around 5 AM before taking a shower, getting dressed, and having a Little Debbie breakfast. Around 6:30-ish I decided to grab my coat and head outside for a morning smoke. When I reached into my pocket for a cig, I noticed the Hit Man device was still there. “Shit,” I thought. “Now I have to go all the way back and return this thing.” I rang Insomnia and he didn’t pick up. This was peculiar, because one of the Changent by-rules was to consider all team-member calls as high-priority. Next I tried Nature Critic and obtained the same response. I became suspicious. ProZac was the biggest pushover in the bunch, and I figured I could get any information I needed straight from the horse’s mouth. I sent him a text message that read, “are you and the others planning a mission without me?” The spineless twat never replied, and that was all I really needed to know. Next, I turned on Insomnia’s Forever Find feature on my cell phone. The Forever Find was very user-friendly, and basically displayed the Changents’ whereabouts in relation to Cept-con City. What a guy. Sure as shit, I noticed that everyone but me was clumped together at West Cept-con High.

I proceeded to pack together an assortment of heat including my six-gun, bullets, 2 hand-grenades, and some Forever Fog all of which fit into one of the old duffle bags I had tucked away since my own days as a slave to high-school. Last and certainly not least, I didn’t forget my jet-black Jackson-Hole Wyoming-Campaign cowboy hat. I jumped in my 1956 Ford F100 pickup and put the manual transition through its paces as I hit the high-road. As I was speeding through the city, I couldn’t help but think about what hypocrites the Changents were. They elected themselves judge, jury, and, well, NON-Executioner as it were over someone like me.  What right does Nature Critic have to be sole arbiter of rewriting the laws of nature?

I parked my truck in one of the open spaces in the “faculty only” section. While I was sitting in my car, I noticed several students trying to get through one of the main entrances but they were being pushed back by armed guards. I was taken aback by the fact that even Gale seemed to have been invited as I noticed a driver-less cop car slowly move from the parking lot towards the door to create some sort of blockade. I didn’t take much time to fully notice the freaked-out expressions on some of the officers’ faces.  I proceeded to run to the back entrance but that was blocked as well. Before I could finish sighing in irritation I realized that Herbert must have tagged along because the latter cop car moved back just far enough to let me through.

I found Insomnia all right.  He was in the hallway getting a headlock from some dude waving a gun around in a very haphazard manner. “Don’t move!” the boy stuttered, now pointing the gun at me. I almost felt bad for Insomnia, but the feeling quickly passed.

”Holy shit!” I said. “Most generation Y assholes just don’t have any manners.”

The rest of the Changents and several cops and paramedics were taking precaution by lying on the floor with their hands on their heads. I have always told my team-mates that starting un-armed will only lead to ending un-armed. Well, the saying works better in feudal Japan. I noticed Nature Critic engaging in a 10-yard stare which usually meant he was attempting some magical thinking or animal magnetism of some kind or whatever shit he dabbled with presumably to keep the cops at bay from taking any pot-shots with itchy trigger fingers.
”Nature Critic,” I said, “How about you come in a little closer to the gunman, say within 20 feet!?”

“Haven’t you figured out that we don’t want you here?” Nature Critic asked.

FrankEinstein chimed in, “unless you can remember those magical rules of debate like you used to at least. Rub some words together like a pair of Chinese exercise balls and create some calm in the chaos, will you?”

“It seems I am less welcome here than our gunman,” I said. “How lovely.”
”Who said anything about a school shooting?” said the gunman. “I could care less what any of you morons do. I am going to blow my own brains out! Just the way you all want it.”

ProZac crawled ahead and said, “Ron, you gotta understand. Hear me out. You’ve took the fuck end of the stick one too many times. I’m not going to give you a bunch of bullshit like we all have it tough, or everybody gets picked on and that it’s part of growing up.  I don’t buy the ‘kids can be cruel shit’ either. The biggest myth is when people say that we outgrow our childish games. The truth is that adults are worse than kids. They not only play the same games, but they play them in a more hypocritical manner. Life, from cradle to grave, is a popularity contest. And even then life insurance policies and funeral homes profit from your dead body. Now please don’t hurt anyone, and please tell the other gunmen to put their weapons down.”

“Then why try to stop me? Life sucks, doesn’t it? And what do you mean by other gunmen?” asked the gunman with a confused expression on his face. “What are you talking about? You think I am orchestrating a school revolt or something? Where did you get that idea?”

ProZac dawned a confused look and wasted several moments casting a blank ten-yard stare. He continued, “Ron, you have stopped me in my tracks and I gotta apologize. I made a mistake. Thanks to you I now know what my vision meant. And thanks to me we will get through this and get you the help you need. I had a vision that there would be a school shooting in Cept-con City tonight. I saw one victim and about ten gunmen. It never dawned on me that my dream was lateral. My vision was telling me that you were the victim and everyone that played a part in teasing, rejecting, or ignoring you each played a part in your murder, which I failed to consider was in the form of a suicide. The gunmen in my vision were metaphors for all the bad things that happened to you.”

“A vision?” asked Ron with a sarcastic laugh. “You really expect me to buy that? And I am the one who is supposedly delusinal? That is rich.”

I turned to Nature Critic in hopes of irritating him as I shouted to Ron, “If it helps, I sure didn’t know about any visions or gunplay of any kind either.” At that, Nature Critic gave me the finger! In the middle of a fucking standoff! I remember thinking at the time that I was starting to like this guy.

“Please let me finish, Ron, if it is okay, and stuff like that,” ProZac said as Ron stood there sweating and breathing heavily. “You are playing for the wrong team. You spend all your time trying to marc to society’s stupid drum-beat.  No matter how hard you try, your efforts will only be half-assed at best. Try to reject fitting into their moldy cheese mold.

“Be the person that you truly are,” Nature Critic added. “Embrace Nietzsche’s inner superman. Your life will be far more interesting.  Use your uniqueness to your own advantage.  Later, you will see insults like freak, geek, creep, weird, crazy, mama’s boy, strange, otaku, neet, anorak, and eccentric as compliments.”

“You write well,” Waterboy said. “I still remember hearing your name for the first time at basketball practice and realizing that you were the same guy who wrote prose and poetry for the school paper.”

“Fuck all this then,” ProZac said.  “You should be working on a book at this very moment!”

”But this is how I wanted my story to end,” Ron stuttered.

“Right on, Ron!” I interrupted. “Guns are far-out, aren’t they?”

”Stuff it, Cowhand,” FrankEinstein chimed, “This is why we didn’t  invite you…..”

”Can it and let me finish,” I said as I turned to Ron. “Yes, I realize that fear is a quick fix weapon. I glean it’s powers whenever I can. But I do understand the importance of choosing your battles. You are being a selfish little shit. Real Changents create changes that will put us ahead a thousand years. What you are doing will put us back a thousand years. Do you really think that the morning papers will say that you are some kind of hero, exposing bullies for what they are? Not even close! The blame will fall on quiet loners like ourselves.

“He’s right,” ProZac said relucntantly. “You would be considered the only monster in the whole mess like a swine before pearls. The extroverts, normals, neurotypicals, and just plain too cool would be cast as protagonists in the local media. I can see it now how the papers would again blame video games or gothy music as the scourge of our times.”

“That’s why people shouldn’t read the paper or watch the news,” FrankEinstein said. “He who controls information controls the world.”

“Please not now, FrankEinstein!” Nature Critic said.

I took a deep breath and continued speaking to Ron, “My dad told me once that ‘words are birds that set you free, and weapons are deceptions for the naive.’

“It’s too late for me anyway,” the boy stuttered. “The reason we have criminal background checks and psychiatric records is because society will never forgive you fully. Who are you anyway, some kind of sheriff?”

”I am YOU,” I said as I slowly walked towards Ron. I removed my hat with one hand and concealed my revolver behind it with my other hand and pulled back the hammer. I let the hat drop to the floor to reveal my gun pointed straight at Ron.
”You leave Ron alone, Cowhand,” Waterboy said.

I looked straight at Ron and said. “You can drop your act. And your guard. And your gun while you are at it. We won’t hurt you or press charges.”

“That is what they all say. Cops are trained to manipulate us ‘difficult’ cases,” stuttered Ron. “It is merely protocol.”

”If you don’t,” I said, “I’ll shoot you right now. And I have a rash on my trigger finger.”

“I could too,” Ron stuttered with his gun shakily aimed at me.

“But I don’t miss,” I said with my steadfast grip on revolver. “I have done it before.”

I walked towards Ron a little more.  Once I got close I put my gun on the floor and held out my hand.  Ron slowly pointed his gun down. As soon as he did this I thrusted my right hand forward and jerked the gun away.  I elbowed Ron in the stomach and got behind him to put him into a headlock. I aimed Ron’s pistol to his head as the cops and Changents stood up and ran towards me to collect their perpetrator. I raised up my gun and fired it into the air. “Before you can walk you gotta crawl,” I said. “Now get back on the floor. And that goes for everyone!”

“I knew it,” Ron stuttered.  “You lied to me bastard. Pull the trigger. Death is all I wanted in the first place.”

”What are you doing, Cowhand?” Waterboy shouted from the floor.

”Ron has a message for the world,” I proclaimed.  “And I’m going to make sure he gets a chance to spill his guts. If you interfere, I’ll spill his guts myself, if you get my meaning.” Now someone get me a video camera.”

Waterboy elected himself to get it since it was his school and knew where it was.
I usually fiound Waterboy’s chirpy optimism quite annoying, but in this case I was glad to have the help. He came back panting with the camera in tow. He set it down a good distance from me and began setting it up. I made sure there were no windows around to prevent any lowly and dishonorable snipers from shooting me in the back.

”Set it up and hit record,” I said.  “It didn’t take long for Waterboy to figure it out and get it ready to record.

“It’s ready,” Waterboy said. “Don’t worry Ron. I am not sure who or what this tape is for, but I think he means well despite the six-shooter aimed at your head.”

I stepped away from Ron and kept my pistol poised towards the Changents, medics, Ron, and the cops.

“All right, Ron,” I said. “Say your piece.”

”What should I say?” Ron stuttered as he was shaking in fear “What do you mean?”

“Say the Disney version of what you were originally going to tell the world tonight at the basketball game,” ProZac said with a confident smile. “But without the suicide and gunplay.”

“Ron,” Waterboy said, “Just explain what happened yesterday in the locker room.  I was wrong about some of the crap I was telling you yesterday about sucking it up and taking things in stride. It is necessary for us as human beings to realize when we are in over our heads. I try so hard to be strong, yet I  know if I looked in a mirror, I would only see my dad.”

”I can’t,” Ron said.  “I have a stutter.”

”This is your only chance,” I said. “Just do it.”

Waterboy hit record and gestured Ron to start speaking. Ron looked into the lens. He took a few deep breaths and proceeded to speak clearly despite his stutter, “My name is Ron, and I am a target of bullying. The students call me horrible names and physically beat me up. The teachers do nothing. I am not saying I am better or worse than anyone else. I grew up being taught that I should take it like a man, have thick skin, and suck it up. Just yesterday a student pushed me down in the shower room and two other boys urinated on me. I am grateful The Waterboy was there to talk to me, but when I returned home I came to the conclusion that pride, stoicism, machismo, and heroism are manipulations to allow others to take advantage of you.”

Next, I whispered a specific combination of words into Ron’s ear.  “Now say exactly what I said into the camera,” I said.  He started cracking his knuckles while a bead of sweat fell off his forehead.  I put my left hand on his shoulder. Ron proceeded to repeat exactly what I told him without stuttering at all.  Ron smiled slightly after he finished. The words I told Ron to speak marked the first time I used my power since my dad died. The truth is, it was Ron’s words that were truly great. My words only ensured that his words would be heard and taken seriously by key figures in Cept-con City.

All right Nature Critic,” I said.  “Let’s split up.  You  get into proximity with the cops and medics on this side and try some magical thinking using your animal magnetism shit to make them forget everything that happened today. I will have a quick word with those cops over there if you know what I mean. Hopefully between the two of us we could get the entire assembly of people to either forgive or forget. We went outside and did the same with any snipers or cops who were not in the building.

I meant it when I didn’t want any charges pressed against Ron. I also made sure that Ron got into an ambulance instead of any cop cars and had a word with the driver herself to take him somewhere very safe.  It was a shame I could never sway Mother Nature herself with my gifted tongue. See, Mother Nature tends to look at gift horses in the mouth.

In the moments that pursued, the cops dropped their guard and made their announcements to all appropriate parties to hold their fire, including the snipers outside. The medics proceeded to call it a day as well and started to make their exit.”

As he left I noticed lots of students standing off in the distance. I really wish the cops wouldn’t have poked and prodded the entire school assembly to leave on the grounds that there was “nothing to see here.” There may not have been much to see, and the cops were right. However, there sure was plenty to hear. And thankfully, Ron’s potshot was not heard around the world, but hopefully his message was.
Ron was standing with the paramedic ready to be escorted away as all four of us made our tracks towards him. “I’m sorry for everything,” I said.

”You mean the gun to my head thing?” Ron said with a small smile. “Old news. Besides, I don’t even watch the news.”

“Wise decision,” FrankEinstein said.  “He who controls information controls the world!”

“Not now FrankEinstein,” Insomnia said.

“Tomorrow’s news will be different,” I said. Ron waved as he left and we returned the favor.

I turned to Insomnia, put my left hand on his shoulder, and said, “Now Insomnia, let’s make tracks to your humble abode.” We made our way to my truck and started our return journey.

“I think I know what you have in mind,” Insomnia said with a faint smile as I . “If another day is another dollar what is another night?”

“I would say another night another nightcap,” I said.

Insomnia said, “Either way, you are the most incomprehensible Changent I have ever had the misfortune to work with!”

”Well, thank you kindly,” I said as I took off my Wyoming Campaign. I made a mental note to not forget Nature Critic’s compliment.