WoW Nerddom goes Head to Head With Can't-Get-Jobs No-One-Understands-Us Snowflakes: First Shots (Fiction)

Juan and Marcus raised the Antifa Flag, high over their Fort.  It was the First Stand of Antifa's Military Iniative. 

"For the People!" hollered Juan.   "For Liberty!"  

A handful of their friends on the grass below the old former Astronomy Lab started cheering.  

"They will not sit on us anymore," said Marcus.  

Juan put his hand out fluidly, even as Marcus grabbed it, their hands making an audible slap.  

"Woo-hoo!  Men who accept women as their equals can still be manly!" shouted Anne behind them.  

Juan and Marcus were all smiles as they turned their heads toward Anne. 

The Air was rift with the Rebel Alliance, Captain America and Dumbledore's Army.  Their forefathers had stood against Nazis before, and they were going to make their grandparents proud.   



---ACROSS TOWN---

Doug and Brad raised the Kekistani flag high over First Command of the Kekistani First Offensive. 

"For Keks everywhere!" shouted Brad with a grin, pulling the strings.  

"For Keks everywhere," echoed Doug. 

"Hey," he said, "you want to troll a Snowflake to celebrate?  I want to literally gift an account to the Head of Antifa anonymously, just to send him pictures of our ex-soldiers."  

"That would indeed be awesome my friend," said Brad.  He cleared his throat.   "For Liberty!" 

"So Keks everywhere don't get sat on anymore," said Doug with a smirk. 

"Yeah, I'm thinkin' that one too."  Brad raised his fist.  "For KEK!"

"I'm sorry to break into you guys' male bonding episode," came a voice from behind them. 

Both men turned with big smiles.  "Lorelai!"  they said at the same time.  

"It's good to know not to disturb the men," said Brad with a jeer.  

Lorelai gave him a playful smirk.  "I get I'm a kitchen wench, not front line material, I'm cooking supper tonight if you're interested." 

"All right!" said Brad and Doug together.  

"I'm so glad you're not attacking me for being insecure about my masculinity," said Brad with a smile.  

"Yeah.  Whatever.  You guys down for dinner?" 

"Yeah, I'm hungry," said Doug.  "Can't you cook fast?  You cook so much better than I do Lorelai."   \

"That's why I cook instead of you.  I wouldn't eat a sandwich if you made it, no offense." 

"None taken." 

"Look, your coding is crap.  I may be a woman, Praise Kek, but just don't tick me off--" 

"Hey, easy now," said Doug, hand extended.  "No one's ticking anyone off, okay?" 

"Yeah, fine," said Lorelai.  "I'm just being a little bitchy because this whole thing is nuts." 

"What do you..." started Brad, exchanging looks with Doug.

"Yeah, what do you mean?" finished Doug.  

"Uhm, Antifa.  You *know* their first Officer."

"Oh, do I?" asked Brad nervously.

"You both do."

"Don't know why I'd care."

"Men!" vented Lorelai, hands flinging, chin pointing down.  "Look, be that way if you want, you owe it to me to try to get him out of it."

"Why?"

"It's Juan."

"Uh, Juan?" said Brad uneasily.  "That douche who ran his mouth every time I made a joke about Mexican janitors?"

"He had a thing, okay?..."

"Now we all have a thing," said Doug.

"Yeah, I'm with Doug," said Brad.  "We all have a thing."  He cut his hand through the air.  "If my offending you is worth a bullet, you get shot regardless before we talk too long.  I don't talk pretty for anybody, especially not fags."

"He was bisexual--"

"--and--"

"and I love him."

"Get off it Lorelai!" said Brad.

"Yeah, go cook us some food," said Doug.  

"You have no idea," said Lorelai.  "Just how many wars would be averted if men would listen to women."

"Oh go join Antifa then," said Brad, sneering.  

"Very funny," said Lorelai.  "I happen to like actually *being* a woman, among many other... very, very good reasons."  

"Yeah, I know you do.  That's good, cause my worst nightmare is taking that gorgeous top off of yours..."

"Enough!" said Lorelai, hand slicing the air, hair bouncing.  "Enough!  You and I are *not happening* ever."

"Psssh," said Brad.  "It almost happened."

"I was drunk.  And I would have castrated you in the morning."

Brad and Doug laughed, turning to each other and opening their mouths at each other.  

"Hey, it's all good," said Doug.  "Go get us some food.  We love you, Lorelai."  

"MEN!" exhumed Lorelai, and she went to the kitchen.  


 ---- BACK AT BERKLEY----


"Juan," said Anne, later that night.   "I have bad news."

"What?" asked Juan.  "Did Kekistan open another WoW server to see how many times they could say the N word before getting kicked again?"  

"No," said Anne, smiling.  "I'm afraid it's more serious than that." 

Juan looked around, looking for Marcus, but he wasnt' there.  They were in a crowded room, but Juand didn't know any of these people.  Just freshman recruits.  

"Yeah?"  

"First Command is operational." 

"Great," said Juan.  "When do we get a crack at them?" 

Anne stared deep into his eyes from the tops of hers, her chin down, full of love, pity and remorse she could not hide from her face, feelings Juan just wasn't picking up on the sincerity of.  

"I read the list of Officers."

"Oh?"

"She's Imperial Chef."

"Who?"

"Who do you think?"

Juan was reeling, struggling to maintain composure.  "Those fucking fuck heads!" he shouted.  A lot of heads turned.

"I'm sorry."

"She deserves so much better than that."

"I know."  Anne was unmoving, her eyes looking up into his.  

Juan was moving and not moving at the same time, body swaying, feet not even shifting.  His bodybuilder muscles rippled.  

"Fuck!"  He raises his arm in the air and snapped in one fluid motion.  

"It's not too late."

"For what?" Juan said with clear disdain and contempt in his voice.  

"Reconciliation."

"Shoot."

He looked around him, head whipping.  "Listen to this, and tell me that again."

He cupped his hands to his mouth.  Anne put her hand in her forehead.  She had a migraine now.  

"Rehhhhd," he sang out.  

"The blood of Angry Men," the whole room chorused.  

"Blaaaack," he sang out.  

"The Dark of Ages Past."

"Rehhhhd," sang out Juan, cupping his hands to his mouth each time, then releasing them and looking around.  He gave encouraging eye gestures to everyone he made eye contact with.  

"A world about to dawn!" chorused the whole room.  

"Shut up!" shouted Anne.

It was like there had been a Thunderclap.  

"You were there just last week you know how it feels," sang Anne in her perfect choir girl voice.   "You do know how it feels to be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight..."

"What, are you screwing one of them again?" said Juan before he could stop himself.

Anne started to slap him, but stopped herself in time.  "I forget," she said tersely.  "I am a woman, but I am your equal.  The men have spoken.  Equal punishments for violence I am ashamed of my incompatability with basic human rights I am an imperfect person and so are you and if I screw someone once in a while its' none of your business but by God you're the one in love you little bitch!"  She finally finished near screaming.  People were starting to move.  "You little bitch!  Hypocrite!"

Juan rolled his eyes around the room.  There was a brief pause, and people started to disperse.  "Don't embarass the Brass to the Recruits," he said tersely.  

"The freshmen, you mean."  Anne fluttered her eyes.  "I know I'm a senior too I get it."  

Juan was at a loss.  He jerked his head back.   "You know what?" His voice trailed off.  

"You are an idiot."

"Yeah and why's that?"

"You know why."

"Look," said Juan.   "She doesn't like me anymore."  

Anne put her finger in her face.  "Sorry," she said.  "Boundaries, I know.  But I'm not going to hit you, and if I didn't transgress a little, I would consider dumping you off the Telescope Tower tonight.  I'd find a way."

"What's the ish?"

"The 'ish..' ue.... is that you *love* her."

"We're through."

"Do you?  Answer me boy."  

"Yes.  Fine."  Juan cleared his throat, moving his head in a circle as he gave her a look, backing up and freeing his lungs.

He belted out each line.  

" It is time for us all
To decide who we are.
Do we fight for the right
To a night at the opera now?" 

"Yes, essentially," said Anne, her face glowing slightly as she looked up at him.   It tore her inside, how little he understood.  She was only looking out for him.  God knows, she knew love had nothing to do with possession, and he was in love with someone she had once called friend.  


"Hm!" said Juan emphatically.  He continued the song.  

"Have you asked of yourselves
What's the price you might pay?
Is it simply a game
For rich young boys to play?"

"Which is what you are," said Anne, eyes fluttering again.  

"I uhm.. my dad did some things, yes."

"Police.  Paper pusher."

"Hey, that's what most of us are, isn't it?  I mean you're so worried the WoW geeks are going to find an actual country boy super hero who really does know how to use a rifle...."

"Rehhhd," sang Anne.

"The Blood of... what?"  

She masked her look of pain with reproach.  How she longed for him to lean down and kiss her.

"Nothing," she said.

She liked to think he wouldn't pretend.  He wouldn't give in.  But she knew Men.  Men were emotionally weak powder kegs, even the men she had helped learn about civility and empathy.  They all were.  It was the nature of having an aggressive hormone like testosterone pumping through your body every single moment of every single day.   Not that she wished everyone were female.   Most feminists didn't.  She just... somehow wondered, looking at him.... if she could love... a man?  A woman?  Anyone else... than this overgrown manchild.... who sometimes understood he wasn't much of a feminist... that he was not much better than a sexual assaulter...

... avery unfeminist sensation moved her then.  She had a moment of weakness.  It would be better if he gave in to lust... She was better than a rape victim.  And she did not need men.  

She turned and walked out of the room.  

She didn't have the heart to tell him.  

She walked to her office, stared at the screen.

She took a big breath.  

"Lorelai," she said while typing.  "Love isn't fair.  Mmmm... what can I say?  I'm over you... at least I tell everyone that, and sometimes I think I am.  Part of me hopes you get shot first.   Please do not email this email again, it is a public account that anyone can read or use who is an officer..... I am deleting your email, and you, from my life.  For good."

Anne moved her hand to the mouse.  People did things wrong.  She pressed send.  Then she deleted the message, held her face in her hands, moved her face upward with her hands being pressed against it, and twiddled her hair.

"Boys," she said.  She let out her breath.

She got up to go.  


----- ACROSS TOWN------

Lorelai was up late.  It was after 2 am.  She had managed to get the guys to go to bed an hour ago, telling them she needed to get some sleep, feigning a massive migraine from their hollering.  They were like little kids sometimes.  

She was still in her jammies, her hair still messed up, and she had just stopped worrying the hairspray she had put in her hair to make it stay messy and the moisturizer she had put on her face to make it shine a little (men were stupid, she couldn't help herself) would be an issue the next morning-- well, the hair spray, anyway.. she didn't want to shower when she woke up.  She couldn't help herself.  She just wanted to spend the whole day crying.  

And now she wanted to spend the rest of her life crying.

"Uhm," she said, as though he were there.  "So I guess this goodbye."  She nodded, blinking, and started crying.  She put her face in her hands.  

"Why me?!" she said a little too loudly.

She snapped, bit her lip, and sniffled as tears streamed down her cheek.

"I love you you geek," she said.  

She stopped running the VPN, as though that mattered now.   She clicked to attach a File, and opened her "Worm" folder.

She smiled through her tears.  "Love sucks," she said aloud, winking at her computer.  A couple of the guys had told her various versions of, "With respect, Lorelai, you're hot and all- but I'm never going on a date with you ever."  

(There was something wonderful about guys wanting you.  Especially because they were so cute knowing even though you were both nerds, you were out of their league.   But right now...)

She thought of not wearing makeup tomorrow.

No.  What was she thinking.  

She clicked Send, smiling big, eyes blinking and moving, shook her right hand up and down in a small gesture excitedly.  

"Eat your heart out," she said with a smile, and cupped her hand to her mouth.  

Later, she took her time in the bathroom.  She was done with her luxury bubble bath by 4:30 am, and done with body lathering moisturizer and more makeup than she would ever bother with by 6.   She was glad the guys were not awake.  

She did not need sleep.   She was a nerd.  Late nights on a computer had been her joy in life since her parents had failed to keep her off Anonymous web pages and 4Chan with parental controls when she was 12.  

What she needed was to be soo beautiful, that she didn't need a guy.  Not even Juan.  Tomorrow, she'd have forgotten him.  

She knew in the back of her mind she was pretending.  She kept going over it again and again in her mind--- wasn't someone in Antifa capable of countering her worm??  It really, really wasn't terribly complicated... she hadn't even been trying, and it had taken her well under 10 minutes from opening her programs to compiling.  

Please, please, please, let him get mad.  Let him come find me.   Anything.  

But the surface of her thoughts was just  a giggly manic powderpuff of excitement waiting for some lazy bones to actually wake up so she could tell him she had probably just smashed Antifa's whole computer system while they were taking their sweet time getting up on the first day of war.  





Did Lorelai get her man?  Did Juan choose her, or Anne... or did he turn in arrogance from both?  Did Love Conquer All?  Read Part II, forthcoming, to unravel just how much difference there is... if any... between the Disciples of WoW and the Disciples of Failed Economics.  

If it is not up yet... hehe... drop me a line... I am open to ideas.  

I apologize for the low quality of my writing presently.   I know this is important stuff, and that the world may literally end if everyone on Planet Earth jointly decides... probably will end if every Earthling jointly decides.... will *most certainly be over* within 5 hours of every Earthling deciding... that politics are more important than love.  

Politics already destroyed my health (long story) and while that may have been grammatically clean, I am a writer, and, well... I have just tonight started my third round of antibiotics for strep.   #violetsnotviolence

Thunderous Applause

There was once an old widow... who lived by the sea...

Long 'go, her Civilization had been brought to its knees...

It started, she'd say, 'cited, given a chance, with you and me....

Back in TWO-THOUSAND-SEVENTEEN...

Well she herself... she kissed her mommy and daddy goodbye...

She gave up on hay rides and no curfews with a sigh

She sided with Antifa-- who could blame her? Nazis?  Huh!--

And she labeled everyone in her life an unhealthy relationship

Thereby exiting best friend, ex-fiance, parents and bruhs,

Binding herself up on a Commie Slave Ship

She knew after all, Big Brother would protect her

And she'd already lost so much... a little more wouldn't matter

Just a little more freedom, her dreams already gone

She hadn't been a lucky one, one to make it like a song

And if she couldn't have it, and if Freedom was a lie...

Well best ol' Antifa, keep her by their side!

An' what did Liberty matter?  It was better than Trump

After all if she did what she was told to, there'd be no tranq in the rump!

And wouldn't the Patriots put her in Asylum anyway?

Better, wasn't it, to give the People their day! 


But oh!  The lies, the gaslighting, reality proved stronger,

And next several years she got by and grew stronger

Learning to lie, and pretend she didn't miss the ones she loved

With her fake smiles to her fake friend--

She'd trade every one of them for one she truly loved!

And the speech it was fine, they learned Form and Hip Hop and Pop

And they said things in style, unlike their uncool turned-'way Rot

And there was nothing for it, the Patriots were gone

And who in Hell was funding this song?

Cause Google was gone, and the Net was a whore

And even Trump, seemed better and more

If you could log on, to a remaining computer,

You'd pay lip service, to the saint who let you as Savior

And for the love of St. Bernie, but what did she espy

Than a war with Russia, for 'Merican Pride

And but seven years later...

She sits by the sea...

The nukes were all that ever mattered....

She submits to God, like all Man... on her knees....


**The writer humbly regrets any false appearance of condoning Radical Republicanism.  If there is to be a 1984, and you care who runs it... Fuck you.**
**In humility, the writer submits that the person she has written about is 100% herself.  If Democracy dies, it is to be noted it is already with thunderous applause.**

An American Commie Liberal Fable

                        An American Commie Liberal Fable

* For Timothy  John Ignatius  Havens, "America" in a very close fitting- tier of this metaphor; 

For Janine Ley Havens, "Liberty," likewise very close-fitting in one tier of my metaphor; 

For Garrett Havens, "Conservative," most closely fitted in one tier of metaphor; 

May I always love each and every one of you more than a Star Wars night light and a Commie friend.  

And I send, as this is most certainly a political story, my fondest wishes to *every other* Libtard out there in this world, to never mistake money from the government for love, nor to ever think the house of Liberty and America is worth shredding because Conservative offends you when you talk about homosexuality or Hispanics.  My fellow milennials, with all my love, because this whole story is about us, and with one more delay, since we all love video games, a quote:  

 "You have but a small sum of gold, your wits, and a little bit of luck.  The roads ahead are infinite, and all the decisions are yours to make.  So choose wisely.  Good luck."  

There was a rich man once in old England, his name was Libtard.  He was very rich and spoiled himself immensely.  His handlers took care of everything, including his fine horses, whom he named Conservative and Worker.

One day he thought to take his friends Commie and Soc for a ride down country lane!  It was so fabulous, he couldn't imagine!  He was scared of the feral wolf population, but he had no real reason to complain-- Conservative and Worker were well maintained by  his handlers, a full family of his favorite people called the Rothschilds!!

Well, Conservative and Worker were tied to the carriage, and Libtard and his friends Commie and Soc drove out into the countryside, knowing they'd be back in Old England's Castle, where they had loyally resided through storm after storm as a family since 1777 for centuries!

And they drove and they drove when Commie leaned forward and said, aghast, "Soc!  Does not Conservative seem very rude in the way he looks back at you when you bring up equality?"

And Soc said grimly in a hot, superior tone, "Why yes!  I do not think Conservative understands that we are his equals."

And Commie said hotly to Libtard, "You simply must cut out Conervative.  He is not respectful."

"Well," said Libtard slowly, "My good horse Conservative, I am afraid, has never understood that sort of thing.  Not since I was a kid."

"Well," said Commie angrily, "anyone can understand how to handle Equality.  Let him understand or let him go."

"Aw, shucks, good sir," said Libtard slowly.  "He used to make fun of me when I was a kid.  Let me tell the poor sap goodbye, and I am quite sure we can get along without him."

Libtard slowly brought the carriage to a stop, and got off the carriage.  He dismounted, and let the horse go.  He was in terror, letting go his old friend, for he had ridden him often as a child.  But now there was simply nothing to be done.  He had an allegiance with his Cuban and South American friends to keep, and what did Conservative have to do with his new values?  Besides, Conservative was a creature of rolling plains of the past, and fields and meadows, and could never understand civility and higher concepts like shared resources between comrades.

Conservative was very doleful, and eyed Libtard with big eyes.  He knew how to get his food off the land, he could just eat the grass, so Libtard whipped him, but Conservative would not go.

Commie got angry.  "May I shoot him if he continues to support impeding the road?" he hollered.  "I am quite offended that he does not move!"

Libtard carried a pistol at his hip, and for a brief moment thought to shoot Commie for wanting to shoot his best friend in life.  But he remembered that Conservative was blocking the way forward, and drew his pistol with a hot flourish and cocked it, made sure he was pointing it away from himself and not at either of his friends, and then... leveled it...

At Conservative, who knew by now what a pistol was and was charging into the brush.

"He'll be back!" warned Commie.  "Keep your pistol close at hand."

Libtard uncocked his pistol and mounted the wagon again.

"Our comrades will want us in early," said Commie.  "I am grateful we got rid of your workhorse.  The other is fine stallion, and will get us there shortly."

"Yes, sir," said Libtard with a smile, but in his heart he kept worrying about Conservative.  Conservative had always been such a good fellow, and had kept him warm many nights.  What would Libtard do without Conservative?  Wait.. what would Conservative do without Libtard's paintings?  His writing?  That is what Libtard had meant to think.  Poor Conservative.  Of course, Libtard did not need Conservative.  His electric night light portrayed a Star Wars starship, and he would be perfectly fine thinking of Conservative while it was beaming up at the cieling.

Telling himself this was true... Libtard whipped the horse Worker and drove off down Country Lane.

"One day the City will make all this beautiful," said Commie.  "There will be lights everywhere."

"Yes," said Libtard, but he could not help but think that he missed the nights on Conservative's back, staring at the cieling thinking of his long lost lover, Capitalism, who had died unfortunately after he accidentally murdered her with his parents' hammer during a conversation about Commie and Soc, his friends.

Still... they rode on.  The sun fell and Libtard remembered that Conservative had always known every road in the county, and that he did not know them so well himself.  He was not at all sure himself of how to get home, and Commie was from Cuba and knew nothing of this land.

Libtard was getting scared.  "How fares Soldier?" he asked, trying to change subjects from what road he was on as Soc got angry at him.

"Soldier is fine," said Soc.  "He is happy to make do with the weapons I gave him.  He will have his college education regardless."

"He is not fine," said Commie.  "He should have a better weapon, one the  People can engineer, one only the People can engineer!"

"With what degree, really?" said Soc. 

There was silence, and Commie snorted, drew out a sawed off shotgun, and blew Soc away.

"He was too much weight anyway for the way forward," said Commie.

"But Commie!" shouted Libtard angrily.  "He had the ideals!"

"No," said Commie.  "You do.  You must get down, for it is nightfall.  You must pull the wagon."

"But Soldier will come soon, and get us the help we need.  He will save us."

There was an unmistakable wolf howl then,  not far off.

"Stop the wagon," said Commie.  "Do as I say."  Commie leveled the shotgun at Libtard.

"Do you even know how to drive?" said an exasperated, hurt Libtard.

"The People all know how to drive," said Commie.

"I could fight alongside Soldier!" hollered Libtard angrily. "I am one of--"

"And so you shall!" snarled Commie.  "After you pull my wagon."

Libtard dismounted and put Conservative's yolk around his shoulders.  Right now, right now, God, please God, if any of Conservative's mindless religion is true, please God, please God, please God just let Conservative find me and take me home, make this nightmare end!  Please God, please God let my favorite horsey be okay, and take the stupid night light where is America and Liberty my Mom and Dad?  Please God, please God, what have I done?  Please God, please God, I don't need a Star Wars night light I need Mom and Dad, Liberty and America, please God, please God, tell me what did I do them?   Oh God, what have I done to Liberty?  I kicked her out of her own house and made my father pay for being mean to Commie and Soc, and now I have nothing left, please God, if there is a Jesus, if there is a fucking Jesus, please, fuck, Jesus please forgive me, please God, please God, Mother of Mercy please.....

But all Libtard had now to do was put the yolk down.  It was inscribed with its name, "Hard Work," which Conservative had seemed to want it called, though he was always silent as work horses always are, and Libtard did not know anymore how it had ever been plain to him as a child what Conservative wanted to call his yolk... Liberty and America, his parents, had never questioned him on it....

He was not Conservative.  He found the going very tough.  In fact, he could not draw the carriage at all.  Libtard had always been a very big artist, an intellectual, a brainiac, and physical labor had never appealed to him.  Now that the yolk of Hard Work was around his neck, he could not pull at all.  Hard Work was just too much a burden for Libtard, and he could not get it to budge.

He broke down and cried, and the Commie shot him.

Commie untied Work and hopped aboard, firing another round into Libtard, and another again into Soc, and then gallopped contentedly off down Country Lane with his trusty shotgun, Slavery.

Along the way he came across the family of Capitalist, and recognized them as objects of enmity to him and the reason for Libtard's disloyalty.  He shot them all with Slavery and moved along.  The horse, Work, was getting tired, and he really had no clue where he was going, so he hopped off in terror, and shot Work.

Then he shot himself.

Meanwhile, Conservative had gallopped off loyally to his old house elsewhere in the Country, to where America and Liberty still lived, mourning the self-exile of their son, Libtard, who would never understand that that the fruit of their love could never be replaced with a state-paid Star Wars nightlight.

They were good parents, and they wept bittersweet tears for the loss of their son.  His burial was not a monument like Commie had promised him.  But it was his parents who buried his body,  not Commie or Soc. And when they buried him in their poverty they just gave him a rock they found in their yard, and Conservative all but chipped his tooth biting a cross into the porous stone.  And they did not touch that rock or that cross as long as they lived, for they loved their son, and the fields' crops they grew, and America and Liberty tilled the soil with mare who had been born of Conservative and Work, which was, always had been, and always would be, Work.