Sunday, February 17, 2013
I have a mean streak in me. Hell, I don't trust a man that doesn't. That man is either faking it for his benefit or he is simply too dumb to know that every man he encounters has some mean streak in them. Either way that man cannot be trusted. Everyone likes to think that this isn't true. Everyone wants to believe that in a civilized world such as ours everything that is pitiful about human beings simply goes away. Everyone acts surprised when they find out there is corruption in business or politics.
Can you believe what the senator did?
How can Walmart's business policy be so inhumane?
Ridiculous. Anyways, I'm off on a tangent. I'll leave all that for writers and pundits to debate. I keep the mean streak pure in my mind. At my job I deal in life and death. Law and order. A lot of people want to run away from having to deal with that. A lot of people, as I have said, take their mean streak to business or politics. Or even marriage. Hell, women have that mean streak as well. I know it, but a lot of foolish men do not.
I've been around. I've been a patrolman for almost thirty years. This place was a small city when I first started here. It was a small city with a college next to it. A good college. They named it a university. An American University. Abraham Lincoln himself made it possible for that university to exist. Lincoln had a good mean streak in him.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have a respect for a good mean streak. I see that good mean streak in this here city. This city that was once small, but is now bigger. And it is growing too. For better or worse, it is growing.
When I first started on the force, we had some bad mean streaks, of course: good old boys getting into scraps, bitter wives offing their husbands, angry husbands offing their wives, incidents of that sort. They didn't happen very often, but sure as shit, they did eventually always happen.
There were racial incidents as well, but they were more often than not instigated by a bunch of foolish white fellows who had persuaded themselves that they were smarter than they actually were by believing that the simple act of thinking made them a genius. I've thought a lot of things over the years and I'm smart enough to know that not all of those thoughts were of genius caliber. Usually these fools would take their mean streak out on some poor brown fellow that was simply trying to start a new and proper life away from some bigger city. Usually they would take it out on some brown fellow who was trying to make a better life than he had growing up for his wife and children. It was the wrong kind of mean streak based on the wrong kind of thoughts. As I have said earlier, it didn't happen often, but sure as shit it always eventually happened.
As this city grew over the years, those who believed that this clashing of color was the most important God damned thing in this world saw the odds not necessarily even out, but certainly change slightly in their opponents favor if you catch my meaning. It was almost pathetic watching these people fold so easily. White people is who I'm talking about. I'm talking about white people running away when they start seeing a lot of brown people. People can tiptoe around the subject and act like it doesn't exist, but those who do that are the same people you cannot really trust. They want to pretend that not everybody has a mean streak.
I didn't runaway, but I did see it happen. West Lafayette use to be Purdue and where Purdue lived and ate. Those houses and restaurants were campgrounds and mess tents that surrounded a base. It was a base of intellect in the name of progress. Progress for America. West Lafayette was home to people with a higher purpose beyond family and employment. I'm guessing that higher purpose came about due to some mean streak in them, but that's none of my business. I'm not saying Purdue was guarded like some holy temple, but I do know a lot of people in this city, this real city of Lafayette proper, were intimidated. They were simpler folk, many of them smart in their own unique way. Many of them smart enough to know they did not want to be made a fool when they weren't expecting it. I guess you could say that West Lafayette and Purdue were guarded by pretension.
At some point, though, they're foolish fear got the best of them. Eventually, as this city grew, these people realized that their juvenile bullying of different people they refused to become familiar with would not stop the rising tide of natural and inevitable growth. When they realized this, they chose the risk of shame in order to avoid being proven wrong.
So West Lafayette grew, quite unnaturally if you ask me. To me it grew like a tumor hanging on to Purdue in a relatively lop-sided fashion. I'm not a scientist, but I do like maps. To me, a real city plants a seed and spreads radially, feeling out a terrain like roots from a tree. A real city plants a seed and builds a base that can be built upon with strength. I could talk about this for a while, so I'm going to try and wrap this up as quickly as possible. You don't want to build a nice treehouse in a tree that won't be able to support it. I think that is what happened to West Lafayette over the years. A bunch of people tried to build an expensive treehouse in a tree where growth is more important than support. As I said, I'm not a scientist, but I do enjoy studying maps.
What I'm trying to explain is that I did not buy this exodus as a sound solution to change and growth. Instead, I decided to use my mean streak in the best way I could manage. So I am a police patrolman. I am proud to be a police patrolman and I take that appointment very seriously. No matter how dull a day in my life is, driving the same streets over and over again, there is always something present in my thoughts. It may not happen often, but eventually I will have to deal with life and death and be the one who does not lose their head. I have to be ready at all times.
I was ready when I stepped out of my squad car that night. I had all the information the dispatch had radioed. I didn't want it to come to life or death, but I was ready. When that Figg boy came running out of that house on Wabash Avenue with that knife in his hand, I knew it had come to life or death. Life and Death. I knew I had to respond with law and order. I knew that Figg boy was the wrong kind of mean streak. I'm not glad I did what I did to that boy, but right then and there I needed to use my mean streak the best way I knew how.
You say it was the wrong kind of mean streak in Dakota Figg, but you don't say that it was for the wrong reason. Why?
I don't think I can answer that.
You can't or you don't want to even though you can?
Listen, George, I've known you for twenty years. I know if I really answer your question you can use it against me. I know that you know this too. That's why I have to ask you and I would expect the same from you if our roles just happened to be switched... Can I trust you?
-Air moves. Fabric shifts against furniture made from brushed steel manufactured in remote locations. Everything that is seen or heard seems uncertain-
Jesus Christ. I know you knew I would have told you regardless. A man has got to try and keep a little self respect.
George, I understand the boys mean streak, but I can't find a reason, good or bad, for how he used it. These children have a mean streak, but they don't know how to direct it towards something good. Hell, they don't know how to direct towards something bad. They're mean streak is directionless. George, the fact that their mean streak is directionless scares me. It scares me in a way I cannot explain.
I do not feel guilty about shooting that Figg boy in the head. Deep in my core I still believe I did the right thing.
I know you do, Henry. I remember the first time I was scared. As I grew older I made myself believe that I could overcome what scared me after I was confronted by it. Somehow, though, something out there always sneaks up and catches me off guard even though I thought I'd seen everything there was to be seen.
So you understand?
Yes Henry, I do. Do you remember the first thing that scared you?
Why do you ask?
I'm just curious. The first thing that ever really scared me was "The Wild Bunch."
The Sam Peckinpah movie with William Holden and Ernest Borgnine.
That was a Western, right?
Yes, or maybe you could call it an anti-Western if you really analyze it.
Anyways, it wouldn't phase these kids these days. Violence doesn't register with them unless you're putting a body through a meat grinder.
Amen to that, George.
Maybe this incident will make them understand a little better. Maybe because it is one of them, they will understand the magnitude of what they must deal with.
Uh, George, what in hell are you talking about?
Henry, I'm saying that you are right.
Aaron C. Molden
Sunday, February 10, 2013
So where do you want to start?
Maxwell thought up the whole idea when he was sent to alternative school. He was sent to alternative school because I filmed him having anal sex with Sarah in the school library. He forwarded the video to the email address of the superintendent of our school corporation. I didn't get in trouble because I filmed it on Maxwell's phone. Maxwell said that he didn't want me to film it on my phone because he knew I was a creepy faggot who would watch the video over and over to get off to his fat cock. He started to laugh when he said that and I laughed too even though I didn't think it was funny. Once Maxwell laughed at something and I did not so he slapped me across the face and asked me if I could not take a joke. Now, every time Maxwell laughs, I do too because he is smarter than me so I must not get the jokes he tells.
Anyways, while in alternative school Maxwell texted Sarah and me a lot. He texted that he had a lot of time to think because most of the time he was isolated in an individual study room where he was suppose to be working on his homework. He texted that for my fifteenth birthday present he was going to make all three of us famous.
Maxwell was only in alternative school for six months, but after that six months was up he would be required to attend bi-weekly psychological evaluations. Sarah's parents decided to home school her instead of sending her to alternative school. Sarah texted Maxwell and me that it wouldn't be a problem because her parents believed that she was only exploring a healthy sexual curiosity and she was simply too young and naive to understand the consequences of her actions. She texted that even though she was being home schooled, her parents still wanted her to have a social life. So she would still be allowed to go out and spend time with her friends. Maxwell texted that everything was going to work out perfectly and all we had to do was be patient.
Maxwell texted that after a lot of thought he decided that Dakota Figg would be our best choice. Dakota was very small and very poor. He was almost always dirty and as far as I knew he didn't have any friends. He didn't even have a cell phone. Sarah texted back that Dakota would be perfect. After I thought about it for a second I decided that Maxwell was right. It really did make sense when you think about it. Maxwell then texted that if you want to make an omelet you had to crack a few eggs. I didn't know what he meant by that so I figured he was making one of his smart jokes again. I texted back LOL.
On the Friday night of Maxwell's last day of alternative school we met each other at the McDonald's down the street from where I live.
Is that the McDonald's on Sagamore Parkway?
Yeah, that one is right down the street from my house. I sat quietly across the table from Maxwell and Sarah while they kissed and touched each other. Maxwell said that I should get under the table because his fingers were deep inside of Sarah. Sarah smiled at me and moaned. It made me uncomfortable so I put my head down and laughed a little even though I didn't feel like laughing. I don't like talking to people face to face, it makes me feel weird.
Is that why you keep looking down at the ground?
Yes. Anyways, this is when I got out my phone. I started to zone out and watch some videos that make me happy or make me smile. So while Maxwell and Sarah touched each other I was looking down and giggling, watching Youtube fail blogs and funny pictures of animals. Occasionally I watched videos of guys jerking off into young girl's eyes. Those are so funny sometimes.
Eventually, Sarah grabbed my chin and pulled my head up to make eye contact and asked me where I had been. Maxwell told me that I had my head down giggling for twenty minutes. I didn't know where the time went because I kept replaying my favorite pictures and videos from the internet. Maxwell asked me what kind of psycho retard I was. He laughed, so I laughed. After that, Maxwell told me that while I was stuttering and drooling like an invalid, whatever that means, he and Sarah had decided that they would corner Dakota Figg after school on monday. I didn't really know all the details because I wasn't paying attention, so I asked what I had to do.
Maxwell asked if I had a Youtube account and I said yes. Maxwell then said he would take care of Facebook, Twitter, 4chan, and Reddit. I asked him who we were going to email it to and he said that I was obviously too much of a dumbfuck to really understand what we were going to do. Maxwell said that we were going to go viral. Then he yelled happy birthday you big retard and laughed. I laughed too and this time I really felt like laughing because Maxwell really seemed to be doing this for me. It felt really good. Finally, Maxwell stopped laughing and said that all I had to do was point and shoot. So that is what I did.
And what did you shoot?
Well, you saw the video, right?
Aaron C. Molden