Month: December 2009

I shot the greeter at Wal-Mart, just after he said “Hi, Welcome to Wal-Mart.”  I figured if Wal-Mart could slash prices, I could slash lives.  Besides, these employees had been reduced to slave-like labor, underpaid, and underappreciated.  I was doing this guy a favor.  He didn’t really want to “Welcome” me into Wal-Mart.  He wanted his shift to end, so he could stop being ignored by mindless shopping drones.  I was doing him a favor, ending his exploitative work-shift, indefinitely. Yeah, I know my killing this guy was drastic, but these are really tough economic times, and damn, I had to do something.

I got the idea to kill the Wal-Mart greeter yesterday, while I was shopping at Wal-Mart.  The little yellow smiley face on the sale signs, which I believe is the same face, and honestly I don’t know how he travels between isles so fast, were mocking me as I perused every isle. This shitty yellow smiley face was laughing at me, telling me: You’re an idiot to pass this up, look how much money your saving! Buy it! I know you don’t need it, but this sales not going to last forever bud! I know it’s a piece-of-shit CHIA PET, made in Indonesia by underage, barely paid, sweaty hands. But MAN, it WAS $19.99, now ITS $10.99!

Fuck you, I said ripping the sale sign down, tearing out the yellow smiley face, and then stuffing him into my pocket.  I left my shopping cart in the middle of the isle.On my way out, I stopped and watched the greeter. He smiled, welcoming each consumer drone.  At least ten shoppers passed him, completely oblivious to the person,and voice merely saying “hello.”

This is just one big fucking trap, I thought to myself,walking past the greeter, I know how to get you noticed. I left Wal-Mart as a freeman, for the first and last time.

When I got home I opened my lockbox, and took out my Beretta.  I was about to pick up the box of 9mm ammunition, but paused before my hand touched the box.  I bought the ammo a few years ago, on sale…at Wal-Mart, before they stopped selling bullets.

It’s alright, I grabbed the box of bullets, it’s actually fitting. I loaded the clip, and then took out the yellow smiley face from my pocket.  After taping it the muzzle of my Beretta, face pointing outward, I set the gun down.

When I walked into Wal-Mart the greeter smiled and said hello to me.  I smiled back, pointing my smiling gun, and fired.

“You’re Welcome.” I said aloud.

While I ran from the store, before being obtained by the police, my mind was flooded with images.  I pictured massesof people, rushing to Wal-Mart, simply to say hello, and thank you to the greeters; much like after nine eleven, when people garnished military service members with unconditional praise, recognition, and thanks.  That didn’t happen.  What did happen was a new uniform policy at Wal-Mart.  All greeters were required to wear bullet-proof vests.  The employees had to pay for them, which could be conveniently deducted from their pay-checks, in three lowinstallments.

I’m in prison now, and I don’t have to pay for anything. $10.99

‘The amount of knowledge Faerwald possesses is too much!’ Col pronounced with authority. ‘He has too much influence over this village! Why should a man who has never stepped a foot outside of home be allowed to counsel our lord?’ As the crowd surrounding Col shouted their sentiments and clanged goblets of beer together, Col leaned into his friend standing beside him and spoke quietly, ‘We must do something now, Thornton. I hear our king is to be seeking counsel from Faerwald tomorrow evening. Are you not tired of our lord going to Faerwald for advice and not us? We used to be the wise men of the land! Do you not remember those times, Thornton?’

Thornton echoed his sentiments, ‘Folks! This is dangerous times when our leaders walk into one man’s home, takes councel from him, and obeys him! Our lord ought to be listening to us, the people of the village! It is our duty to the lord, our land, and our rights as men to steal Faerwald’s collection and kill him! And I propose we do this tonight and end this atrocity immediately!’

Aelfric rose as the throng shouted ‘here-here’, and ‘aye’ towards their leaders. The noise from the mob allowed Aelfric to slip out of the building unnoticed. He hurried across town to Faerwald’s home.

Aelfric rapped upon the threshold and was greeted by William, Faerwald’s servant and apprentice. Upon entry, the scent of books saturated the air and would overwhelm any newcomer to the home. Aelfric, on the other hand, was not a newcomer, and paid no mind to the scent nor the multitudinous amount of stacks of books measuring from the floor to the ceiling; which, not only spanned the length of the foyer, but the hall and every room within the home.

William led Aelfric to Faerwald’s study; and as usual, found Faerwald reading a book and taking notes with his quill and parchment. William left the two alone and resumed tending to his duties around the home.

‘Faerwald,’ began Aelfric, ‘we need to leave immediately!’ Faerwald held his hand up to his intruder, indicating he must wait. ‘This cannot wait, Faerwald. We must…’ Again, Faerwald indicated to Aelfric he must have patience.

Faerwald was not elf; he was pure human. Yet, the elfs of the land, along with the lords of the land, have gone to Faerwald for many years seeking wisdom and direction. Faerwald is a man who believed books hold more knowledge than any one man could posses; and therefore, he read books. Every book in his home he has read; and most, he has read multiple times. The last count William performed for Faerwald totaled over fifteen thousand works of literature that had taken him nearly two scores to collect. It is rumored he has not ever been outside of his home since first moving there thirty five years ago with, what was then, a small collection of only seven hundred works. What is not rumored and is agreed upon by all folks of the village is no one has ever seen the man other than elfs and lords over the years. Often times, Faerwald receives invitations to embark upon a journey with folks of the land; however, each time he declines with the reply, ‘My journeys do not consist of walking upon land. My journeys are within books and literature; and there is where I shall travel alone.’

After a few moments, Faerwald set his book and quill upon the end table beside his bed. He looked up to Aelfric and questioned, ‘Now what is so important that you came to my home unannounced, and screaming like a mad-man we must leave?’

‘I apologize for my rudeness, sir; however, I have been listening to Col and Thornton, and they have gathered a large mob determined to kill you. They are on their way over this very night to burn your books and take your life. You must flee my counselor!’

Faerwald responded to Aelfric’s advice, ‘You know these books are my treasure, Aelfric. I cannot abandon them. And you know I have never once left my home for a journey of any sort. No. I will not leave my home. I will die with my books.’

‘Faerwald, they are not intending to destroy your books. They want your knowledge. They seek to have what you have; the respect of your lord, and the wisdom of your intellect. Your books will be theirs once you are dead. You must leave and come with me. We, the elfs will protect you in our forest just outside of the village.’

‘I will not abandon my collection. I would rather watch my books burn before I have them ripped out from under me. No! I will not leave for those fools to rule this land from the makings of evil.’

‘I understand, counselor. But what you must understand is our land needs you! We need your guidance as long as you are with us; and it is the elf’s duty and privilege to protect you. I will not leave this home without you, Faerwald. We must go!’

Faerwald contemplated this in his thoughts. He spent a few long, hard minutes debating his options, and when he came to a decision, he spoke, ‘Ok, Aelfric. I will leave; however, these men cannot have my collection. We will burn my home to the ground at dusk, with everything in it, and I shall embark on a journey.’

For the next few hours, Faerwald, William, and Aelfric packed Aelfric’s horse and another two horses they had purchased from the kind couple living next door. Most of what was included were some of Faerwald’s treasured artifacts, pieces of literature, and his own writings. When dusk came, the two finished packing and began rigging the house to burn.

When they were setting up the final piece for the home to burn well, they heard a mob off in the distance. Aelfric looked up, ‘They are coming. We must hurry!’

Faerwald, in agreement, spoke, ‘You and William wait with the horses; I will finish this task.’ Aelfric left Faerwald to perform what had been asked of him. Faerwald walked to the front of his house, grabbing an unlit torch on the way, and waited for Col and Thornton to arrive with their zealots.

When the crowd arrived a few moments after Faerwald began waiting for them, Col spoke up, ‘There he is! Get him!’

Before the crowd could advance upon him, Faerwald lit the torch he held, and held it near a stack of books standing beside him. The crowd stopped and listened to the words of Faerwald, ‘You seek my knowledge and respect from our lord by presuming you will receive both once you commit murder upon my soul. You fools live in folly. You can murder me, you can even gain my knowledge; but what you cannot have, is the respect of our lord. He will not respect you, or any other fool in your crowd for murdering a man he seeks counsel from. If you wish to seek me and my collection of knowledge and literature, then you are more than welcome to come into my home.’

With that, Faerwald lit the stack of books on fire and proceeded to enter his home as it began to burn. The crowd stood motionless in front of the home, watching it burn, unsure of what to do next. Faerwald walked to the back of his burning home and spoke to William and Aelfric, ‘Go! Tell the elfs and lord I cannot abandon my books. Take what I have given you and learn what you may. Goodbye.’

Aelfric jumped off his horse screaming, and pleading with Faerwald. There was, however, nothing Aelfric could do. With the thousands of books within the home, flames engulfed the house forcing any intruders to remain distant. The crowd, Aelfric, and William watched as Faerwald walked into his study where most of his books were gathered. He sat in a chair, opened a book and began to read. Just as the flames were surrounding him, he looked up from his book and to Aelfric. The last thing Aelfric saw before the flames consumed Faerwald’s soul, was a smile gleaming across the face of Faerwald, and then his head bowing towards his new journey.

He beat his wife. Yet he still had the gall to go for his morning jogs and wave at me as I stood in the yard with my dog. He’d smile at me, slow and sticky like golden honey. Did he think I couldn’t hear what he did to her in there? We lived in a duplex, for god’s sake. Our bedroom walls were kissing; I could hear everything that happened on their side.

The first time I heard them was a month after they had moved in. At first they were just talking, their voices blurred through the walls as if they were talking under water. I paid no mind, simply turned my TV up a bit. Then he raised his voice, and the louder he spoke, the softer she did. Just a fight, I told myself, turning the TV up a little more. Just a fight, every couple has them. No big deal. I won’t listen, it’s not my business.

Then a slap and a startled cry. I could hear it all, even over the TV set. I sat up, an urgency in my every limb. Do something! But I was frozen, my bed a block of ice that my ass was sticking to. I was afraid if I turned the TV down that they’d notice, maybe even realize I was trying to listen. So I left the volume up and instead just strained my ears. But they weren’t talking anymore. I imagined him breathing heavily on one side of the room, eyes wide in terror at what he had just done, while she sat on the bed with her open hand pressed against the blooming print on her cheek. She’d be staring down in wonderment, wondering if what had just happened was real.

I heard doors slam, first one and then the other. I could see through my open blinds as his car roared down the backstreet. He was gone. He hit her and left. And she was no doubt still sitting on the other side of the wall, still staring down, her hand like a ghost against her hot face.

I was afraid she’d hear even the smallest creak of the bed as I moved, so I ever-so-slowly turned and faced the wall. I placed my trembling hand against it, reaching out to her. We were under the same roof, living in two completely different worlds.

–

That was the first time, but of course not the last. It happened more after that, at least once a week. He’d get home from work and for a while it would be quiet and I’d think, He’s in a good mood tonight, nothing bad will happen. Then their voices would appear like smoke, wafting in through the vents, moving menacingly in swirls up near the ceiling. Sometimes she’d argue, try to defend her case, but it never worked. There would always be a crash, a lamp falling over maybe. And the slaps, sounds like glass in my ears. I could imagine her skin reddening under his strikes, as if his hands were covered with paint and leaving little fingerprints on any surface he touched.

He’d always storm out after. Doors would slam and his car would speed away. He wouldn’t come back for hours. She’d stay in the room, right on the other side of the wall, and she’d cry the most painful tears I’d ever heard. She tried to stifle them as if she were ashamed for the pain to escape her lips, but even crying into a pillow couldn’t silence her cries. I’d lay down in bed and wouldn’t make a sound, but I’d be crying with her, silent tears rolling down my cheeks.

–

I decided to go see her one afternoon while her husband was away at work. I made cookies, as lame as that sounds. I just wanted a friendly excuse to get into her world. I planned on being the oblivious neighbor girl, arriving on her doorstep with freshly baked cookies and no ulterior motive.

I never made it over there though. Her husband came home early from work, much earlier than I expected. I was in my bedroom, getting dressed, when he slammed into their house. I heard his voice travel from the front door to their bedroom, octaves rising by the second. When he reached their bedroom, there was a moment of deafening silence. I wondered what he saw that made him finally shut up for once.

Then a single gunshot. I barely had time to register the sound, because it came through the bedroom wall, finally splitting the barrier between us.