I wake up the next morning and my first thought is that my room looks different. Then I remember all the bullshit I had to deal with yesterday and suddenly it comes back to me. Fuck everything. Did these guys seriously think they could make this up to me by putting me up in a hotel? Retarded. I take a shower, but then as I'm getting out I remember that I left all my other clothes back in the dorm. Oh well. People shouldn't complain anyways, my musk is the scent of the greatest creature ever to live. It's a blessed phenomenon, a heavenly aroma the mere scent of which provides mortal men with irrefutable proof of the supernatural. I guess some people are just arrogant though.

Throwing on my clothes from yesterday, I tear out of that fucker and head to school. I don't really know why, I don't have classes today. I just don't want to hang around this stupid fucking hotel. Suddenly I remember that Johnny exists and I chuckle, wondering how he dealt with that much excitement. Idiot can't deal with anything. I hope he got tazered trying to get back into the room. That would be so like him. It's hilarious just thinking about it. He should be proud that he's finally done something worthwhile in his life, by entertaining me. Although I guess technically I'm just entertaining myself thinking about him, so nevermind. God, people really are failures.

I start to get near the campus and I notice something. The crowd is bigger than usual. And not just that, they're also significantly more in the way of things. Then I realize why. I see Mike standing on a table, shouting shit out of a bullhorn. He's got a fair amount of attention. I'm actually kind of impressed. I mean, he's having to use a tool to do it which is kind of cheating, but then again he doesn't have the benefit of being me so that's probably the best anyone can expect of him.

Over near the dorms, there's a big pile of flowers and cards and candles and other stupid things. A crowd is hanging around there too. Students are coming out the front door, or at least trying to, and getting pissed at how everyone is blocking their way. That's the first non-retarded thing I've seen people do today. I mean, you're piling up all this flammable shit at the entrance, complete with fucking flames no less, and then you're blocking it off by being douchebags. I hope those guys do more than get pissed, I hope they get in a fight. Fuck it, I hope they all get in a fight and then the whole place burns down. Then everybody wins. Or at least I do, but that's all that matters anyways.

I start heading on over to somewhere else, away from all this noise and posturing. Of course someone else has to go and fuck up my plans, and I run into that other chick from class. Like, literally run into her. Fucking bitch needs to learn where she's going, how to use her eyes to avoid pissing off people more important than her and, oh, now she's looking at me. Terrific. She opens her fat whore mouth. "Hey!" she says with concern. She looks at me with these fucking questioning eyes, expecting an answer. I don't give it to her because she doesn't deserve it, so she continues making noise "I'm so sorry about what happened. That must have been terrible for you. The entire campus is outraged about it. That guy over there is talking about what kind of a society could allow such a thing to happen. Of course, you were there, so you know all about it."

I think for a second. I'm used to getting attention but this is a different kind of attention. Maybe I'll have to play things a bit more subtle. "Yeah, I know all about it. But people are pretty dumb sometimes and I bet a lot of them are getting it wrong. So what kind of stuff are people saying?"

She looks at me appreciatively. "Some guy saw the whole thing happen. He wrote about it on twitter." She pulls out her phone and shows me the tweet in question. "lol sum dude watching coeds go at it through a rifle scope. His buddy startled him and he shot her, hahaha". The implications of this begin to dawn on me. First, it means some asshole sucked at his job. Like, really really bad. Which normally isn't that big of a deal but when you fucking shoot people for a living I guess maybe it is. It also means they busted down my door just to make it look like an accident; no, a different kind of accident. How retardedly badly do you have to fail at life to where you have to make one type of mistake look like another type of mistake just to save face? Then the last part hits me. I realize that I probably should have closed the blinds. Oh well, life's a learning experience I guess.

"So is that how it happened?" the arrogant wench asks me.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it. So what did they do with the guy?"

She looks angry now. I hope it's not at me, because I'll smack the shit out of her if it is. "The police took him in, supposedly for questioning. They aren't letting him talk to his family or to the press. People are saying that they're going to prevent him from testifying." Fucking bullshit as usual. Par for the course I suppose.

"That would be a pretty stupid thing to do, but I guess there are a lot of stupid people around." She smiles nervously at me. I think she's run out of things to say. Good, that means she ought to fucking leave. Oh, but I guess she doesn't even know whether or not leaving is appropriate. Fine, I think, I then I take the initiative and depart from her oh-so-wonderful company.

This is a pretty dynamite revelation though. Not only does the entire campus know about all the bullshit I went through, they're rallying behind me. Maybe I can establish myself as a revolutionary. People will die in my name. It will be awesome. After all, I am a member of anarchy club. Then that reminds me so I wander over to where Mike is. He's got a pretty big crowd paying attention to him, although his entourage itself is pretty small. He grabs me and pulls me in among them. What else can he do? Without me it's pretty much impossible for any group to be worthwhile. "This is our man. This kid experienced first hand the horrors of a fascist police state, where money and greed come first and human life comes a distant second."

I'm sort of wondering how that statement works, but on second thought it's not like it matters. Who cares whether revolutionary rhetoric is legit or not. It gets people marching, and more importantly it gets people marching in the name of me. That's pretty much the best thing ever. I guess Mike thinks it has its own point though, because he keeps talking. "The police were staging a raid on a drug dealer, a harmless entrepreneur who never hurt anyone in his entire life. And why were they doing this? Because of the fascist hatred of minority wealth. It threatens their power base. If you want to know why this happened, look at the policies of our government and look at who they benefit. The police don't serve us. They serve the corporations. Here on our very campus, human life was bought, and it was bought so that the elites could continue peddling beer and cigarettes without competition, and without worrying about having to accept brown people into their ranks."

I look around and I see a lot of people nodding. A few wear blank expressions, a couple look like they disagree. They're probably retarded and don't understand what words mean. Like that guy from class the other day. Then I look closer at one of them and sure enough, it's that same moron. Christ, it's like I can understand if you're completely terrible at one thing but to be this terrible at everything? God must hate you. At least he's in good company.

This moron speaks up. "The corruption of public services cannot be blamed on the free market, because the market is the sphere of human actions which are voluntary. Corporate cronyism, to the extent it exists, is therefore not a market phenomenon." A lot of people in the crowd bristle at this. Those to either immediate side of him back off a little, probably not wanting to be infected with his brand of stupid.

A guy is making his way through the audience. "Hey asshole, a girl died because of your stupid fucking philosophy." He winds up and lays that bitch out cold in what's literally the sweetest fucking thing I've seen all day. The guy hits the ground with a dull thud and the reaction from the crowd is mixed. Most of them are cheering but some of them are walking away. It's not like anyone cares about their opinions anyways. I look at Mike.

"It looks like people have some use after all" I say to him.

He smiles and nods. "All you need to do is tell the truth and most people will listen". The truth, right. Like I give a shit about that. I'm just happy to see people fighting each other over me. Or fighting at all. Fucking boss.

I guess that's pretty much all Mike has to say, and that makes sense. It's hard to top a knockout punch in terms of simple, communicative elegance. I mean, violence is the best way of communicating. It's the fucking trump card. How can you argue against violence? That's right, you can't, because you're fucking dead. That's something more of these retarded intellectual types need to figure out. I wish college were more like thunderdome or Battle Royale or something. That would be the best way to organize society. None of this working out differences peacefully crap, just BAM! Instant resolution of all problems. So yeah, I'm pretty happy with the influence on people I've started having.

Mike and his goons start handing out some of those pamphlets to people. Most take it and look appreciative, although I see a few of them tossing them in the nearest garbage bin as they head towards whatever stupid shit their little peasent lives have in store for them. I guess these people belong to me now. This was a pretty easy conquest. I thought it would take longer but I guess this was a good workaround. All I had to do was have a girl I knew get shot to death, which was pretty easy. I didn't even really do anything except leave the blinds open. It's like I said earlier, violence gets things done. Like, even indirectly apparently. It's motherfucking magic.

So the shows over now. Now I have to find something else to do. That's really too bad because I was just starting to enjoy myself. I wander around for a bit, some people are giving me looks as I pass by and talking. I'm basically the coolest kid in school. There's a bunch of news vans over in the college parking lot. They ought to interview me. Nobody else is interesting or cool, so why the fuck are they wasting time with them. I guess news crews are just pretty dumb. Then I glance over towards the dorms, hoping they burned down. One of the dorm workers is yelling at people and putting out the candles. LAME. It makes sense and all but fucking hell, the place was going to burn down and it was going to be awesome. Now I don't have anything to look forward to today. People really ought to be more considerate of others. By that I mean they ought to be considerate of me, because nobody else matters.

So I wander around some more and then I realize that fuck, if I keep this up I'm going to run into more stupid people trying to sympathize with me and maybe even Johnny, which is even worse. I really do hope he got tazered. I start heading on back to the hotel room. I guess I can entertain myself by watching tv or taking another shower or something. Man, everything is totally fucked up right now. It's kind of hilarious. I mean, life sucks in general but in this case it's really obvious. Not that I'm not enjoying myself. Actually what I'm enjoying is that other people are having to deal with all this. They're funny to watch, with their uncertain reactions, hedging all their bets in case somebody calls them out on their bullshit. It's great. It's like, I get to be reminded of how fucking stupid people are by seeing them fail to deal with the things I'm awesome enough to deal with instinctively.

So I get back to the hotel and I just kind of chill there for a bit. I turn on cartoon network and watch the explosions. Fucking Wiley Coyote is chasing the Roadrunner and it's relaxing. Hell, it's comforting even. It's nice to know that even with all the bullshit going on in the world, there's still something predictable. The Coyote will always fail, and the Roadrunner will always escape. That's just what they are. It makes sense. I'm trying to figure out why it's comforting. I guess it's just the violence. Yeah, that's probably it. Like I said before, most effective problem solving device ever. Although I guess technically the coyote always gets back up and has to do it again. So maybe... Man, fuck it. I don't want to think about this shit right now. Philosophy is such crap. People who think they're smart because they talk philosophy can all go fuck themselves.

I switch the tv over to something else and hey look, it's the news. They're talking about the girl that got shot. Seeing as how I was fucking there I ought not to be that interested, but I guess I sort of am. Nothing is quite as much fun as watching the fallout, and especially watching how it seems to effect people that didn't actually have anything to do with it. The news crews are interviewing some old lady, who's saying she's a mother. It isn't even the mother of the girl who got shot, it's just some stupid bitch mother, and she's going on and on about society and moral obligation and how she's afraid for her children now. Yeah right, lady, like a one-time event completely changed your perception of reality. Actually what am I thinking, it probably did. I don't know why I would have put that much faith in her. I guess I was just giving people too much credit. The more retarded things are, the more likely they are to be true. It all just boils down to the fact that people are retarded.

I turn of the tv because I'm sick of this shit. I just lay back for a while and meditate on how awesome I am, but eventually that gets kind of redundant so I stop. So I jerk off in the bedsheets and then continue to lay there. After a bit of that I suddenly realize that I'm really, really bored. Like, more bored than I've ever been in my entire life. I have to get out of here. I have to do something, anything, I don't even care what the fuck it is. I yank open the drawer just to see something move. There's a bible there. Hahahaha, yeah right. I'm not that desperate. People who turn to religion are like people who date fat chicks. You just have to wonder how they got to the point where being so stupid seemed like a viable option. I also see a business card. One of the cops gave it to me after they finished asking me all those stupid questions. Said to call him if I had any additional questions or concerns about the case. Said to call him if the media showed up and started asking questions. Was very adamant about this part.

So I pick up the telephone. I mean fuck it, I don't really want to deal with people. But this is a guy who shoots people for a living, so he's probably pretty cool, even if he did fuck things up for me the other day. I call the number. I'm starting to think that maybe this was a bad idea, and then the guy picks up. "Hello, this is Officer Donahue" he says. Naw dude, this was a good idea. I mean of course it was, it was my idea so it had to have been a good idea.

"Hey what's up" I say.

"Who is this?" comes the response.

"I'm the dude whose girlfriend you shot" I say I'm wondering if you want to get a beer." There's a long silence. I mean, a really fucking long silence here. It's longer than my dick even. I'm starting to wonder if the guy is retarded.

"Yeah, ok" he says "my shift gets off at 5". Now that he's answered I don't really know what the fuck to say, but I guess that's a lie because I say something anyways.

"Cool, let's meet up at The Golden Billiard. Drinks are on you man." I hang up. This is pretty sweet. I have something to do now. I check the clock. It's 4:27. The place isn't that far away but I don't really know how long it takes to walk places. Maybe it will take a long time. So I take another shower, then slip back into the same clothes and bounce. I could go for a cigarette right about now. I mean, I don't smoke, but still. It seems appropriate for some reason. Maybe I can steal one off of somebody else.

I march down through the lobby and I see the bellboy or bellhop or whatever the fuck you call them. "Hey man, you got any smokes?"

He looks at me with this pompous affectation. "There's no smoking in the lobby sir." That doesn't even answer my question. This guy is a fucking retard. "Well fuck you asshole" I say and leave him there to think about how stupid he is. I mean, I wasn't even going to smoke in the lobby. Ok, maybe I was, I hadn't decided yet. But at bare minimum he should have realized that if I didn't have a cigarette already in my hand then he didn't need to warn me about lighting one up. Whatever. It's not like a give a shit anyways. I start heading on over to the bar.

When I get there it's about 4:30. Fuck it, I guess I'll have to wait here for a while. At least it's a pretty chill place. The jukebox has a good taste in music too. I order a water, and then another water, and then after I finish with that I say "fuck it" and order a whole pitcher of water. There's some guys playing pool on one of the tables. It's pretty cool to watch. All it is is nice, solid objects crashing into each other at high speeds. It's almost as good as violence, although if this place erupted in a brawl that would pretty much obviously be better. These guys are pretty good. Every time they line up their shots they make them. So I watch them play one game, and another, and it goes on like that and I'm starting to see a pattern. You have to admire guys like that. They're boring as shit, and hence easy to deal with. That's my favorite quality in people. And then suddenly one of the assholes has to go and miss. Nevermind.

I turn around right as a hand clamps down on my shoulder and it freaks me out. I almost fall out of my chair but thankfully I have the reflexes of a wild animal so I smoothly play it off. "Didn't mean to startle you there" the guy says, looking as though he's talking to some distant vision. Hey asshole, I'm right here. I mean, what the fuck. "So what did you want to talk about?" he asks. For a second I'm not sure how to respond to this, because really I didn't want to talk at all. I just wanted to get drunk. Who cares though, I guess this is better than the hotel room at least.

"I dunno" I say "Why don't you just start talking and if you bore me I'll let you know by punching you in the face". He seems to consider this for a moment with a kind of dull boredom, which is pissing me off. This is the first guy I've met all day who thinks that I'm boring.

He sits down. I guess this is supposed to be his answer or something. He eyes the pitcher of water with curiosity, then turns to look at me. He seems to be trying to think. It's almost funny. He ought to try harder. "It was my mothers idea, going into the force". I suppress a fit of laughter. I didn't realize it was possible to be a cop and mamma's boy at the same time, but people always manage to; well, what I mean is that people are stupid. So this sort of thing, it's to be expected. He keeps talking. That's good, at least he follows instructions well. "I'll tell you" he says "this is a hard vocation. It messes with people's heads. Even before I joined, I had some idea. I mean, every other day there's something on the news about police officers making the wrong decisions. Guys who couldn't hold up under the pressure. But I didn't worry about that, because I thought I was above it."

This is actually kind of interesting. He takes a moment to pour himself a glass of water from the pitcher and I use that as an opening to ask him a question. "So does that mean you're the guy who capped her?" He almost chokes on his glass of water. Not audibly or anything but I've got a pretty good eye so I can tell, even with his best efforts to hide it. "No" he says. I'm disappointed. This is really too bad. This guy might end up being uninteresting after all. "I actually didn't have anything to do with the operation at all" he says "But I know most of the guys who did".

I consider this for a second and ask him another question. "So what are they, all retarded?"

He's back to giving me that bored look. Fucker needs to knock that shit off. "The guy who pulled the trigger; I'm not going to tell you his name; the guy who pulled the trigger has been having family problems recently. He's been working double shifts trying to get the money together to pay a lawyer to represent him. Upcoming custody battle over his kids. A decent lawyer that is, and not a crackpot. He shouldn't have even still been assigned to that position, except that there aren't any other guys with the training for it."

He takes another sip of water. This is bullshit. I didn't want to hear sob stories and all this faggotry. I wanted to hear about assholes getting shot and getting the chair and all the things that make the justice system bad ass. I thought this would be cool, but apparently even the cops don't understand this shit. Stop wasting time and just get violent already. It would make the world so much better, I'm not even joking. Then I remember that this guy had something else to offer. I ask him "So how about those drinks?" To my surprise he gestures to me and we go over to the bartender. I hope he doesn't ask me how old I am, but then I've never had any trouble with that before. Besides, this guy I'm with is pretty obviously a cop even without the uniform.

"What'll it be?" he asks.

"I think we should start with just plain beer and then work our way up to scotch, and then finally Irish car bombs." I say. The guy nods, signaling the bartender to start pouring the first round of liquor. "I'll be right back" I say. That water is catching up to me. People say you should drink 8 glasses a day but that just goes to show you what people are worth. I mean, think about how tedious that would be in the long run. Totally not worth it. As I cross the threshold into the bathroom a guy is just finishing washing up. He turns toward the door and FUCK. It's Johnny. Before I can yell at him to shut up he starts talking.

"Hey, I didn't expect to see you here." This is just great. I'm having a conversation in a bathroom, arguably the worst place to have a conversation in the history of the fucking world. Even worse it's with one of the dumbest people I know. He looks at me as if in sympathy and opens his fat face. "So how are you holding up?" How do I respond to this? It's a retarded question. Then again it's the first time he's paid me the type of attention I deserve, so maybe I should cut him some slack. Yeah, and then maybe he can hang himself with it and I won't have to deal with him anymore.

"I dunno dude, it's tough. I mean, it all happened so suddenly. I'm having a hard time dealing." I move to go towards the urinals and he turns heel to follow me. UGH. "Yeah, I'm having to stay with an aunt while they take care of the room." he says. Then as if remembering that he's a douchebag he keeps talking. "Although I know it must be a lot harder for you, having been there when it happened." He stares at me for a while, reluctant to leave. Just LEAVE already fucker, I don't have anything to say to you. "Well let me know if you need anything alright?" he says. I mumble assent and he finally fucks off. God damn. I mean, what the fuck did that last statement even mean? What does he have to offer me? Dumbass.

I finish up and make my way back out to where the liquor is. Officer whines-a-lot is sitting there, already finished with his first beer. I guess that's fine. Maybe if he gets drunk first I can use that for entertainment. I sit down and stare at him. I guess he forgot about that whole talking thing I told him to do, because he isn't saying anything. I mean technically, if he was following instructions right

he should have kept talking the entire time I was in the bathroom. That would have been the logical thing to do. Then maybe someone would have thought he was talking about them and hit him, and there would be a totally bad ass brawl going on right now. Unfortunately he couldn't follow instructions. Looks like I'm going to have to remind him.

"Hey keep talking man, you're really interesting" I say. He nods dutifully and goes back to thinking, which is pretty obviously a difficult task for him.

"There's been a lot of budget cutbacks recently and they've made up for it by cutting back on manpower. The whole department is a bureaucratic quagmire right now. The brass can't decide what ought to stay and what ought to go and the result is a huge mess." This is slightly better than that other crap he was talking about. I mean, at least now it isn't emo bitching. He's talking about a mess. A mess is almost like violence. I should see if I can't keep him on this subject.

"So what's a good example?" I say.

He answers immediately and it surprises me pretty hardcore. "Our investigative department" he says. "In fact, right now it's just me and one other guy handling the whole business, which means a lot of cases get buried. We don't even spend all our time on doing it, either. Everyone's assigned to multiple functions right now, or at least most people. And we can't outsource that many cases to private agency's either, because we don't have the budget for it." Well that's interesting. I guess I've just ruled out one career path. Maybe I can still work for a private agency, though. I bet that's fun. I mean, based on what this guy is saying they don't have to work as much. They're probably not as accountable to the public either. Man, that would be sweet. "It's upsetting too, because our cases get prioritized by higher-ups and we don't always get to go after the right people". I nod. At this time we're both well into the scotch stage of our drinking. "And it's ridiculous" he says. "We have a guy who murdered three people, ok, a serial killer, and we're supposed to be going after some programmer instead". I laugh. This guy must not handle liquor pretty well, because it's hard to even put that statement in context.

"Are you serious dude? I mean, if that's true then that must be a pretty hardcore programmer".

He's getting more reflexive now. "No, he's just some guy who stole company property. Except the company was working on a software project for the department of defense so now it's this great big interdepartmental concern. I mean, don't software companies keep records? I have a brother who works as a programmer and he says they do. So why can't they just reproduce whatever it is that got stolen?"

"Maybe they're just retarded" I offer.

"Well they ought to learn how to handle their own problems because this is a waste of taxpayer dollars" he seems excited, and then he crashes "I wish I knew programming. And phenomenology. Then I wouldn't have to deal with this job. I'm really getting tired of this job." I ignore the emo bitching.

"Dude, what the fuck is phenomenology?" I ask.

"I don't know" he says "probably some kind of math. All I know is the file said he did his dissertation on the subject". At this point I realize the conversation has gotten pretty boring, so I tell him that he can shut up now. I mean, we went from a whole bunch of emotional bullshit to a story about how people are retarded, which was kind of interesting, and now we're talking about math and 's pretty much the most boring thing ever. But still, at least I got something out of the night.

We went on drinking for the rest of the night. The guy started talking again but it was ok because it was just about baseball and various shades of drunk talk. I mean technically he's not following instructions, but everyone sucks besides me after all so I guess I can let it go. I'm too drunk to care at the moment anyways. That's my favorite kind of drunk. I don't have to bother with all the bullshit when I'm that drunk. It's nice. I wish college were more like being drunk. Then everything would be pretty cool. Or at least it wouldn't matter if it wasn't.