3 and half years ago.
In the quiet forest near a rural Utah residence, a young 20 year old boy had finished recording a 4 hour long tutorial on how to summon small spiritual beasts. He was fairly handsome, a tall sturdy build to him, and had long, blonde hair that cascaded down to his shoulders.
In a tired tone that had a hint of southern accent to it, he chuckled to the camera.
“shih- man, I’m so tired hahaha!”
“Thank you all for watching, uhhhh- if you all liked it, leave a comment and subscribe if you like uhhhmmm... Tell me what you guys think. Tell me if it works for you and if you tried…
Hey there pal!” He called out in the same attitude as a pet owner would towards their dog- as he pointed the camera towards... nothing.
“Come on boy hahahaha!” He shouted joyfully again as he dropped the camera. From there, he picked it up and ended the video.
He walked back to his house, which was very close to the woods that he had occupied. After he started uploading the footage, he read the new comments on his other videos.
To no one’s surprise, the comments ranged from angry Christians calling his videos paganist bullshit, to repetitive comments of “you’re literally insane”, to even “I don’t care if he’s crazy he’s so cute agshfjshdk"
Chad brushed (and blushed) off all the comments. Until one of them caught his eye.
“Cool video! I’m a 15 year old wizard and I wanted to know if there was a spell that could make my mother love me?”
An audible "dude" left Chad’s mouth as he unironically cringed for the first time in months.
Underneath that comment though, was another one that caught his attention.
From MiasmaMessiah4
“Interesting video. I’ve tried some of the other techniques from the video that required more precise ingredients and it think it worked decently well. Do you mind doing a more thorough review if I sent you some footage of it? I’d also like to discuss some topics with you in private. Add me, [email protected].”
Chad wasn’t surprised that 99% of the population wasn’t blessed or traumatized with the abilities to see spirits. But the fact that this stranger on the internet actually saw his rituals and incantations and saw the results on camera, filled him with a keen sense of glee.
He had a warm smile on his face.
“Well, I’ll be.”
.
.
.
Sunset occurred .
He checked the time.
“Hm.
Perfect timing.”
Sorry guy, but it looks like I’ll have to add you after I take care of some business" he said to himself.
His mother warned him about paying his dues for several years and yet, he never listened. Now with all that money, he’s risking losing it all with increased fees.
"Well, not today” he said to himself.
He walked downstairs and opened the door towards his mother’s cramped room.
“Hey ma, I’m just going out to take care of some business. I’ll see you in like an hour or two.”
There was no response.
“Love you!”
There was no response.
He closed the door of the desolate room and went to his garage. He opened the closet, strapped himself with his Remington shotgun, and picked out an ancient mask from his ancestor. He got on his cruiser style motorcycle and donned the mask: the head of the Baphomet.
As the garage door opened, he whistled a joyful tune. He performed a hand sign. Appearing from thin air was a large Doxen with the musculature of a lion, the length of a python, and the exaggerated features of a wolf’s head. Its eyes were absent and in was replaced by enlarged jaws and ears. It eagerly panted as it waited patiently for its master's orders.
Chad whipped out a crumpled up piece of paper in his pocket and read the home address on it, as well as the name of the person he was hunting. With vigor, the oversized Doxen's ears quivered in various directions. After a couple seconds, it barked, signifying it found its target.
"Perfect."
He rode out in the night, listening to the call outs of the Doxen. The road was desolate. All he ever saw was the pavement of the ground, the repetitive view of the trees, and the Doxen itself. A peaceful contemplation. To think, a good portion of the states are just this. An encroaching, inevitable modernization that impedes upon nature. Not that he necessarily saw it as a bad thing. The American spirit was brought upon by capitalism, and though it was ironic considering his family lineage, he believed the two could co-exist.
After forty-five minutes of driving, he had finally reached his destination. He parked in a forest near the house.
It was the house of an accountant.
Through binoculars the predator spotted his target.
Using the night as cover, he crept towards the house, and threw salt on the ground as he circled around the property.
He donned the mask and readied his shotgun. He breathed in, then out. Without hesitation, he quietly sprinted over to the entrance of the home.
Rudely intruding the man’s house, Chad wasted no time in letting the Doxen thrash the house, while he entered the kitchen and interrupted the accountant's cooking. Without any struggle, he subdued the accountant at gun point.
Chad began:
“Trust me,
I don’t like hurting people, I really don’t.
But you came after my family, my livelihood, and my money.”
“WOAH WOAH HEY WHO THE-
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Shouted the accountant.
“I LITERALLY DID NOTHING WRONG?”
“BULLSHIT! YOU WANTED TO TAKE MY MONEY!”
"WHAT IS THIS ABOUT? I SERIOUSLY DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE???"
"IT'S THE GOD DAMN TAXES!"
The accountant paused his shock and contorted his face into one of confusion.
"Taxes....?
TAXES?
ARE YOU SERIOUS?
YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME OVER FUCKING TAXES?"
Frustrated, Chad resisted pulling the trigger.
After 2 minutes of dead pan gun-pointed silence, Chad asked his question.
“Why do you do it…
Why do you want my money…”
The accountant began heaving in frustration.
“We do this to EVERYONE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT! Teenagers do taxes, retired people pay taxes, hell, I pay taxes, and I work for the god damn IRS! I know its bullshit, I know its obnoxious, and I know you’re young... but this system is NECESSARY! Hell, if you just filed them, then you would realize that you would have the chance of getting a REFUND. And even then, unless you're stupidly rich, it doesn't cost that much!
Are YOU rich?"
Chad pondered for a sec. He concentrated on the man, well knowing that this was some ploy to take his gun away as a means of distraction. He took a couple steps back and responded.
"No."
"THEN WHY DOES IT MATTER TO YOU?"
"Because you're stealing money that we barely have."
"THAT'S NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM! THAT'S JUST HOW THINGS ARE!
Please....PLEASE! JUST... JUST LET IT GO! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING, I JUST WORK FOR THEM! I BEG OF YOU!
LOOK- I'LL... I WON'T CALL THE COPS, I SWEAR! WE'LL.... WE'LL JUST LET IT GO, OKAY???"
After a bit of realization, Chad thought about it for a second.
Democracy. Money. Success. Greed.
A polite society. One where one aids another. That’s one aspect of the American dream, is it not? To build the roads. To cover the cost of the electricity throughout the city. To get that one magical check once a pandemic or so. An easier, convenient life. No potholes, services paid publicly, an easily sustainable state environment. That would be pretty nice.
But than he realized something.
“Sorry man. I hate to get political, but that sounds like Communism to me."
Within his mind, Chad reaffirmed a statement to himself:
"(Because what’s more American, than keeping all that money to yourself)."
The accountant's eyes filled with sadness, before evolving into a confused rage. He lunged towards Chad in desperation.
“YOU STUPID MOTHERFUC-
The loud shotgun blast rang within the house. Though with the Giant circle of salt around the house, the sound was muted; and nobody in the neighborhood was none the wiser.
“...
I'm sorry…” apologized Chad.
He knelt down to the corpse and preached his mantra.
“I hate to get political. I know the national government has a system, and though it has its virtues, I must abide by my own virtues as well. The local government must take control of its own issues, not be delegated to being a bitch to its owner... but even if I can't change that, then I'll just simply disagree. As much as I love this country, and as much as I agree with its virtue of money being everything, I must take it another step further to avoid being made a fool."
He knelt even closer to the body, and whispered through gritted teeth.
"So if you want my money, you'll have to rip it out of my cold dead hands.”
He stood up.
"Welp.
That's that."
He whistled away as the large Doxen ate the evidence. The Doxen vanished into spiritual nothingness after finishing.
Nonchalantly, he quietly ran over to his motorcycle, and drove calmly into the night.
Upon contemplation he reminisced about the scene.
"Money...
Money...
Money...
*snort*
PAHAAHAHA!" cackled the young hooligan.
It's what runs the world. It's what grants people power. It's what enables people to pay for food. It's what markets, housing, and society is built upon.
"As long as we have it, we'll never diiiiiiiiiiie!"
We'll never die.
We'll never die.
.
.
.
"...sir?"
"Hm?"
Chad stood in the middle of a big sport department store.
"I asked if you knew where the biking section was?"
"Huh... Oh uh... yeah.
It's right near the back corner of the store. Do you see the little poster where it says 'biking' on it?"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, that's where the biking section is."
The customer walks over there.
Chad looks at what he was wearing, where he was, who he was.
He then remembers.
Present day. Chad Bernard, Store Manager at Cock's Sporting Goods. His hair was shorter, styled into a buzz cut. He grew a couple inches. 6'2". That's not bad. That's not bad at all. He was a lot bulkier, but instead of having a dad bod, he still had that balanced mesomorphic physique. It took him several minutes to realize that in his hand, he clutched onto a heavy grip trainer. Clutching onto it with all of one's might for several hours with barely a couple pauses made for a good workout. That's the closest thing he could register as "difficult" at his job. Move a bench press for display? Sure. That'll take five minutes to do. Order equipment to restock items? That's not hard, not hard at all. It's just tedious. Anybody without a degree could drone this job, that's why he took it in the first place. A job that pays above minimum wage, even by three dollars more per hour, that's not bad. Not bad at all. Especially for six days a week, all while taking some holidays off, oh, now he's making some real money. And think about all the expenses, or lack thereof. It takes about an hour to drive from home to work; so to not spend any money at all, why not just take a bicycle to work? Only have to wake up a couple hours earlier, plus with his physique, he barely has anything to worry about. A good workout to start the day. A very healthy schedule. That's not bad.
Not bad at all.
.
.
.
Several hours later, he arrives home. He opens his garage and places his bicycle where his motorcycle used to be.
He enters his house and opens his mom's room.
"Hey ma... I'm back..."
No response.
"If you need anything just... let me know...
I'll be in my room so...yeah..."
No response.
He heads upstairs. He gets some fresh clothes and takes a shower.
He stands in the cold shower for forty minutes.
Afterwards, he sits down in front of his computer.
He looks at his library of games. He stares, clicking around at which one to play.
...
After five minutes of not being up for everything, he switches over to YouTube.
He scrolls through several recommendations within his page. It takes him fourteen minutes to finally click on one.
...
On the second minute of the first video he clicked on, he paused the video, and turned off the monitor and laid in bed.
He stared at the ceiling for half an hour.
A phone vibrates near his pillow.
Confused, Chad looks at his phone.
It's a message from his friend.
He gently smiles.