You Will Worship Bazooka Man After This
- A life-changing story.
Daniel Shit started patrolling my village in 2004. He was an alien to our society and a standing symbol of everything we hated.
Naturally, we despised him.
The only feeling towards this man greater than hatred was the emotion from which the hatred was born: fear.
We knew what that big Bazooka was capable of.
His arrival warranted a lot of screaming and pissing in the village. Many pissed all over their families' sandals in the entrance hallway.
But one single moment broke that seemingly endless pattern of piss and screams.
It was the hottest day of that summer. I remember how the piss on my sandals immediately evaporated into the air. The piss flew up, letting the piss find its new nest in my nostrils instead.
In fear of this piss-bouncing heat, nobody dared to go out. They would rather know that the piss was in their hallway. There it was confined to a fixed area, rather than have it shoot up their fucking noses.
Yet, the heat did not stop me from organizing a domino tournament with nine participants.
Amongst them was James Harroldsen, a fat idiot boy who wore gaudy True Religion jeans every day.
He had even made his mom attach some weird embroidered patch that said “2PAC” on the thigh.
So fucking weird and gaudy. I hated him, he was in actuality the sole purpose that I had organized this tournament.
A lot of people hated him, for sure. But I was extra mad because I knew that I liked Tupac more, and I thought his expression of fandom was lame. His fandom made me think that Tupac was corny, which he was not.
I did not want to play with James. I had other reasons for organizing this event on this very day.
The real reason was that I planned to take off his nasty pants and throw them down the village well. Everything was perfectly orchestrated.
If it hadn’t been so hot this day, it would not have made any sense to play dominoes so close to the well. The wells water had evaporated since long, the only thing down there was darkness and dust.
So some thought it strange and awkward to have such a central location. But I argued it was well suited because we could use the shadow cast by the roof for shade. Not a completely strange proposition, but also not a completely non-suspicious one either.
I’m a cool and gangster person though, so I avoided it seeming forced. I think everybody knew though, they just didn’t care what happened to James’ ugly fucking life.
In my head the equation was simple. I figured having James close to the well with his lame-ass pants made it practical to get them in there.
I did not want to move the pants from some location to another. It would be way cooler if I just made him cooperate for his own demise because he would feel like an idiot and a tasteless human.
So there everybody was. James, his cross-eyed brother Philip, and seven other guys with cum for brains.
We got to business. I spread out the blanket under the shade, and I and James were seated.
I sat face to face with this mouse-faced human as everybody stood around us. Nasty brown bare feet were scuffling all over our family’s only blanket. Whatever, it was worth it. I was fantasizing about James crying.
I organized it so that James and I were first up since I obviously was not going to waste time hanging out with these fucking losers. Eyes were glaring over me and James’ shoulders as we laid our first bricks.
“Take off your pants,” I said, immediately.
“No,” he said.
I was countered. Instantly.
I did not expect this.
“Okay…” I said and kept playing.
How had I not accounted for this? He could simply refuse to take off the pants. My heart sank. I had wasted my precious time.
With all this time and energy, I could have been practicing playing guitar.
“God save me please, what have I gotten myself into”, I thought.
I could not bare the fact that I would have to keep playing dominoes with this fucking dog of a human. The mission had failed. I wanted to leave.
But leaving in the middle of a domino game is so unstylish, I thought.
But not throwing James’ pants in the well even though I told myself that I would is a different type of unstylish, I thought again.
I was now comparing which of the feelings of shame would torment me the worst in the coming years.
The shock took over. I realized that it did not matter, I was a loser regardless of what I did.
I was a donkey and a dunce.
Blinded by doubt, I completely lost the physical world. I heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing. A complete white numbness took over me. I crashed into the lowest of lows.
I don’t know how long I was in this state. But suddenly the white nothingness began to phase out. My senses came back. Now the contrast of reality attacked me. Fuck.
The muscle memory of all the bodies surrounding me and my opponent facing me remained. I stayed hunched and squatted, to accommodate them. I had to make an attempt to make it seem like nothing happened.
I raised my head to face the bitch James, but he was not there. I looked around, seemed like nobody was there.
My shoulders relaxed, and I expanded my whole posture. I let go of my squat and fell back onto my bum.
Peace.
My back hit something hard.
Peace broken.
Just from this single collision, I could feel a towering energy. I shifted. My eyes traced the boot up to the face and followed the dark log that was the left arm to find the Bazooka. It was Daniel Shit, the Bazooka Man.
In a moment I rotated again and hugged the stone well behind me. Nobody had ever been this close to Daniel Shit the Bazooka Man. He gave off a smirk, looking down at me.
“Hello,” I said.
“Wegenti purpasula mefaya ko nerthel.”
Nobody ever bothered to speak with them. Trying was none of our business anyway, as our leaders strictly prohibited it.
But at that moment I realized that no layman from the village had ever even tried. I had never heard their speech this close. It was always distant shouts from the checkpoints as they organized or did drill routines.
But boy let me tell you about this man’s voice! It was like having a brown bar of Bounty chocolate dipped in caramel sauce and sprinkles on top. So comfy and raspy and sexy.
I understood that nobody else had a face-to-face conversation with them either.
Cause if they had they would be so fucking chill, cause they’re totally not.
He laid down the bazooka, but kept his right hand behind his back and squatted down to me. Even if he had a sexy voice, I was still scared to the bone, what was happening?
“Webedo graguni James?”
I was shocked. Did I hear right?
“James? You know James?”
“Whambini foolakatu James!”, a gaping smile spread out across his face. A giant laugh was sent out of the big hole in his head out in the air.
“Hahaha,” he was laughing haha.
He pulled out his right arm from behind his back. I flinched, covering my face. I was certain I was going to fade back into nothingness again. This was too much.
Stillness.
Not the tumult I was expecting.
I opened my eyes again and lowered my guard.
I got eye contact with James Harroldsen.
His bloody severed head was hanging by the hair and hovered slightly above me; fresh and moist.
I sprung up in pure ecstasy.
“Oh my god! Thank you so much!”, I shouted. All the fear evaporated. He was a friend.
Naturally, I sent my arms to wrap around his waist.
I intentionally landed in an awkward angle, hoping that it would give me a chance to align myself with the head over me. This way I could get a chance to smell it up close, or even have some blood drip on my head.
I don’t think I’ve smiled that hard to this day.
He gave me a kiss on the hair and pointed into the well.
“Ghurtuko kamsu, mitalofo”, he was signaling me to look into it.
I let him go and turned around to peer into the darkness. His word was my command.
But I couldn’t see anything. Until suddenly the Big Bazooka flashlight above me lit up everything. All of the cracks and crevices between the tiles were exposed.
I had never seen anything so clearly.
In the bottom, I saw the rest of the body in those lame-ass True Religion jeans.
I stared for so long, and then tears came.
I didn’t want to pick my head up to look around, but I could sense other people gathering around me. The whole village must’ve come out of hiding to look at James’ body. Everybody took turns crying tears into the well. It was awesome.
I would exaggerate if I said that Daniel Shit became a hero after this. Tensions remained adamant and distances were kept. Relations had a long way to go.
But nobody ever had a problem with him patrolling around the village again. The whole conversation about the invasion changed. This alone shifted the attitudes in the village.
I don’t think anybody had ever done anything like that for our village, let alone our country.
When the troops were pulled out, I was overcome with mixed emotions to say the least.
Today, however, I can proudly say that Daniel Shit is my hero. It just took a while to realize.
Sure, the physical act of destroying James Herraldsen was cool and all.
But where the real value exists is in the shift in perspective that led me to gather the courage to sleep in a thong every night.
