Poor Mojo's Almanac(k) Classics (2000-2011)
| HOME | FICTION | POETRY | SQUID | RANTS | archive | masthead |
Fiction #225
(published May 5, 2005)
17th Century Anarchism
by Nicholas A. Vandermolen
Chapter 1: Life Long Goals

When I was twelve I figured something out. I figured out that the only thing that lasts is history. Eventually people die and things are lost, even the world greatest monuments are falling apart, but the history always lives on. Since the day I figured that out I have always wanted those stories to be about me. Even today I want to be written about by scholars and historian. I want movies and television shows to be based on me. I want to be in history books. I didn't care how. I just wanted to be forever etched in the annals of time, no matter what the consequences.

While young I learned that I wasn't very creative. Even now I see my self as sub-par on the creativity angle. My plan was to hang around someone famous, then just be around them when they did something outstanding. Then when all the media and all the attention came, I would just say I did it all. I mostly was just going to live off the awesomeness of everyone around me. I pretty much only care about my self. I just want to be forever known.

I was really young when I decided that mooching off the success of others would be my life long goal, because of that I came up with a lot of stupid ideas on how to get famous. In high school I joined lots of stupid clubs. Chess club, drama club, debate club, even French club. I was never particularly good at any of them. Most of the time I just tried to make friends with people who had a lot of friends. I figured they were the most likely to get famous. Problem was, I wasn't real good at making friends either.

Over the years I figured out that I'm not particularly good at anything. Basketball, no way. Guitar playing, nope. Dancing, don't even think about it. Looking back now I'm surprised I didn't commit suicide or something. I wasn't really good at anything. There was one thing though, one thing that I found I did excel in. I excelled in beating the shit out of people.

Since making friends was so tough for me, I usually had no one to back me up when the local hooligan tried to hassle me. I guess through the constant barrage of beating I received as a young child I must have assimilated some of the raw power that was entering my kidney and mid section. These beatings must have given me some sort of almost super natural power. The power to kick people's faces in. You think with all this power I could get some babes. No way.

When I finished high school, I found that I had no true goals. Well, at least the type of goals my parents wanted. I didn't care about college, I didn't care about what job I had, I didn't care about getting a family; all I cared about was something that lasted. I wanted to be known for doing something amazing. I wanted to be read about hundreds of years from now. I wanted to be in history textbooks; the kind that third graders have to read. I wanted something lasting.

I realized that living in my parent's basement would not get me etched in history. I knew that I needed to surround myself with people who wanted something different then everyone else, people who wanted change. Those were the people that were willing to fight. Violence plus change equals a perfect story for a history book. I looked around town; I read some magazines, and after a few weeks of searching I found the perfect group to join.


Chapter 2: Anarchists a Go-Go

Anarchists. Anarchists love violence, and they hate the government. They're willing to beat the hell out of anyone just to prove a point. Hell, they're willing to beat the hell out of someone just to beat the hell out of someone. I figured they're the type of people that would create waves on the stream of history. I figured those were the people that I needed to be involved with. Beside, this way I could at least use my phenomenal strength.

I moved to the U.K after I read an article about the rise in anarchist activity there. It didn't take me long to find the anarchists. I just drew some anarchist symbols on my shirt then went to some of the local discotheques in London. While at the Underwater Heat Wave I danced, threw some punches, talked about how awesome the Ramones are, and told people I hate fascists. It was totally easy; by the end of the first night, anarchist punks were buying me drinks and asking me if I wanted to go beat up some Nazis. I jumped at the chance to beat up Nazis. I knew that destroying some fascists would totally get into an anarchist gang.


Chapter 3: Spreading The Good News . . . Via Fist

That night was amazing. Me and four other anarchist punks crammed into a small European car and drove for about twenty minutes. During the car ride we talked about how awesome the "sex pistols" were. I would have said more, but I didn't really care. I just wanted to beat some people up and be in the newspaper the next morning.

The ride concluded by parking the car in the driveway of a small country house. We got out of the car and one of the guys handed me a small club.

"Verwenden Sie dieses, um jene Nazin oben zu bumsen."

I didn't know what he said, but I bet it was something about beating the shit out of some Nazis.

I kicked in the front door while another guy kicked the side door in. I volunteered to go in first because I knew that it would get me mad props. Upon entering there were three guys sleeping on the floor. They had German Nazi uniforms on. I think they were drunk. I hit the fat one in the corner with my club first. Then I kicked him in the face. He never said a word, I walked away slowly. There was blood on my fist.

The fight ended relatively quickly, the Nazis were pretty big wusses. I heard one in another room begging for mercy. Super soldier my ass. As I walked out I stole a twenty dollar bill from a table. I am so hardcore. We got back in our car and drove off.


Chapter 4: Joralg Owns A House With Stuff In It

While driving back to the discotheque the driver of the car told me his name was Joralg. He asked me to join his gang.

"You wanna joins my anarchist gang."


I knew that joining this gang would help me get famous. They were friggn' crazy, how could I not get famous hanging around with them. Joralg told me to meet him at his house the next day if I wanted to know more about the ideals of the gang. I did, so I met him at his house the next day, we had a pretty long conversation about anarchism. He explained the meaning of punk music to me and he told me how much he hated the po-po. I didn't really know that much about anarchism so I pretended to be a little high, that way I could just say I was too high to remember that I was an anarchist. It worked. I mostly just sat there and listened to him ramble on about fascism and society. It was pretty out there in my opinion, but I knew that this was my way to fame.

He had talked for a good three hours when we were interrupted by two random punks busting through the front door.

"Joralg, they're after us. Those pigs, they're right out side."

One guy was bleeding. The other one just looked mean. They were rambling stuff about po-po and drugs or something. They had thick accents; it was hard to tell what they were saying. I didn't really get scared until I heard the sirens. That's when I knew there was trouble.

"You idiots, now they know the location of our hideout. This will destroy us. Shoot at them or something."

Joralg seemed very angry and surprised. I wouldn't have recruited idiots like into my gang. Despite the one guy already having been shot, the two guy fired out the door at what I assumed was the police. I stared at the one guys bleeding gut like it was lava lamp when Joralg grabbed me by the collar and drag me down a hallway. We went down some stairs. I couldn't see because Joralg never turned on the lights.

"Yo Joralg, turn on some lights."

"Shut up. They might hear us."

After walking down an even darker hallway, Joralg pulled me in to a room. He turned the lights on, then he bolted the door behind him. I was pretty tired, it was getting late, I didn't really look around the room. I sort of just wanted to go to sleep.

"Listen, this is important, the fuzz are after us. They are trying to destroy our ideals. Those fascist pigs must die."

He did a lot of rambling about ideals and anarchism. For being the charismatic leader of an anarchist gang, he wasn't very charismatic or inspiring. He seemed real scared; I think he was going to cry. I was pretty tired. After a long speech that should have been much shorter considering the circumstances, he handed me a backpack. I put it on.

"This is everything you need to spread our ideals."

I wondered what was in the backpack, but before I had time to ask, there was a pound on the door. It was the "fuzz."

"We have to go, we have to go."

Joralg kept yelling stuff, but I was thinking about what was in the backpack. It was sort of heavy, maybe ten pounds. There was a lot of pounding on the door but instead of doing anything, Joralg started typing buttons on a computer. Then suddenly a huge blast came from behind me. I turned around to see a huge round device light up, it was maybe ten feet tall. For as long as I was in that room it was surprising I missed the massive mechanical device in the corner. It looked like some sort of archway. Suddenly the archway lit up incredibly bright. A huge wind picked up in the room.

"This is our only form of escape! Let's go!" I have never seen anything like that before. It was pretty wild. I looked at it intently. It was very hypnotic.

"Run though it now."

I didn't really hear what he was saying; I just loved the hypnotic swirling of the portal. Then suddenly the door burst open.

"Freeze!" said a cop as he busted through the door. Joralg froze. But he wasn't cold enough because the cop shot in chest. Joralg instantly fell to ground. I just about crapped my pants.

"Spread our ideals." Then Joralg died.

"Fuck this shit." I said as I jumped through the portal. I didn't want to get shot. That would suck.


Chapter 5: The End Of 2001

I don't know exactly what happened after that, but the next thing I remember, I was on a small island.

"What the crap."

I didn't know where I was, but after walking around the island I found out that the island had no source of food. The island was in fact very small, probably about ten feet long. Really, it was way small. After discovering that this island was completely lame I decided that it was best if I left this island.

That night I constructed a raft out of trees and other things I found around the small but surprisingly sexy forest. It was simple really, it took maybe twenty minutes. I left that night on my raft. Surprisingly the waves were not very large. This was good as I was a bit scared of the large and intimidating waves. I drifted for what seemed like hours. It may have been minutes. It's hard to say really, I had no sun to gauge the time and I have a bad internal clock.

I left the island because I was bored. I thought the raft would be way fun. It wasn't. It's almost as boring as the island. My journey to this strange land had been extremely and utterly boring. Sitting on the raft by myself I contemplated suicide. Then I realized I was still wearing the backpack.

I was transported to a strange and incredibly boring land, then I built a small raft, then I started a huge sea journey, and the entire time I forgot I was wearing a backpack. I looked inside. Inside was a black metal case maybe the size of a suitcase or something. It was metal, cold, sexy, sleek, hard, black, and metal. It had a lock, but it was unlocked. Before I opened it, I remembered what Joralg said, "This is everything you need to spread our ideals." I wondered what it was. I opened it and it all made perfect sense. It all became clear. What was inside the black metal case was a year's supply of Heroin.


Chapter 6: Experimentation

I don't know much about heroin. I don't know much about drugs. I drank some anti-freeze one time; that's about as close I got to doing drugs in my life. If it wasn't for all the instructions inside and all the pictures; I would have never known how to inject heroin. Luckily, they were there. Without those pictures, I would have never known the wonders of heroin.

I followed the directions to a tee. I wanted the yummy fluid in my body as soon as possible. I was shaking with anticipation. Seeing nothing else to do I injected the heroin into my blood steam. It was almost sexy. I think I saw god.

I could feel the power juice running through my veins. I imagined dogs on a race track chasing to devour my heart and mind. This was a good thing. I was looking for the awe-inspiring high. I was looking for the start of my life.

My muscles tensed, they became stone. My eyes dilated and I could see colors made of clouds. I was aware of the whole world. At that very moment, I saw the entire history of the world. I was in it. In pure bliss and tranquility, I fell to my side with a smile on my face and the intellect of all the world's greatest geniuses flowing through my head. I was the world.


Chapter 7: The Day I Met Real Men

I awoke to see not a sun rise or a tranquil horizon; I didn't even see a four star island paradise. I saw a wooded ship and a bunch of anorexic metrosexuals, I mean pirates, on it.

"Arrg, look at this scurvy sea dog we found . He looks like trouble," one pirate yelled.

"I'm hungry, let's eat him," yelled another pirate as he puked over the side of the boat.

I didn't really know what was going on. Before I could regain my composure, I was taken aboard by two guys whose hands were moving around a bit too much for my comfort. They tied my hands up and pushed me to who I later learned was the captain.

"I be Captain Bang an' this be me ship th' Poldan Parrot. Why be havin' ye stepped foot on me ship? Were ye lookin' fer a death sentence."

I wanted to tell him how I was just minding my own business in my party raft when his two goons pulled me into their ship. I was just looking for a party, not a death sentence. I wanted to totally burn this guy, embarrass him in front of his entire crew. I wanted him to cry, but the extreme intellect I earned from my experimentation with heroin earlier that day revealed to me some disturbing information. This was Captain Bang. This was the most fearsome pirate of the early seventeenth century. He didn't think twice about murder, rape, or even stealing. He was the scurviest sea-dog in all the lands.

Seventeenth century? What was going on? Was I sent back in time? Then once again from the power of my heroin overdose the true reason I was sent back in time was revealed to me. I learned that the reason I was sent back in time was to convert some of history's greatest peoples to anarchism. That way as time went on anarchy would be more mainstream. Thus, when 1966 came along, Joralg's compound wouldn't be stormed by the fuzz because anarchy would be normal, not taboo. It made perfect sense. He sent me to the past to save him in the future. I was sent back in time to save Joralg's life.

Captain Bang was saying a lot of crap; he seemed like he liked guys, oh well. I wasn't really paying attention. I was day dreaming about air planes and how intelligent Joralg was, or, will be, or whatever. He sent me back to convert pirates to anarchism. It made so much sense. They hated the government, anarchists hated the government too. Pirates were probably history's first, if not the second, anarchists. Then I realized I was day dreaming. I should be spending this time converting the pirates. Even though I wasn't a great anarchist, in fact I really didn't know anything about anarchism, I needed to act as anarchist as possible to convert the pirates, to save Joralg's life.

"So. . . you guys like the Sex Pistols," I interjected.

Captain Bang was saying something about fashion I think, and I interrupted him. It probably wasn't the best time to interject. Whoops. There was a silence.

"Yea, Sid Vicious is fucking the man."

Once again there was silence. I didn't know what to say so I reintegrated my point about Sid Vicious and the Sex Pistols.

"Sid Vicious is in the Sex Pistols and he's fucking the man. . . Anarchy in the U.K."

I thought I was saying all the wrong things, but I guess I just needed to tell them twice because Captain Bang loved it.

"Aye, I love sex, an' I love pistols, I love bein' vicious, an' I probably love Sid."

I didn't quite understand what he meant by loving Sid, but everything else made sense. Anarchy and piracy are not that different. They knew that too. I knew this was my in. So I talked more about the Sex Pistols.

"The Sex Pistols are so hardcore."

Captain Bang hesitated then said, "Aye. . . Sex an' pistols be good, now let us drink grog an' discuss sex an' pistols in me parlor."

He then put his arm around me and we walked into his parlor. Alone.


Chapter 8: Pushing Is Fun

Captain Bang's parlor had two large couches and a very nice hand carved table. He pointed to one of the couches and I sat down.

"Now that I am away from my crew I get drop the stupid pirate talk. It's so amateur."

Captain Bang's dismissal of his pirate accent caught me off guard. In a way though, it put me at ease. He knew how to talk to me.

We sat in his parlor and discussed the wonders of sex and pistols for what seemed like hours. During our fruitful conversation I managed to sway the conversation onto the contents of my little black box. I knew that I didn't know enough about anarchy, or the Sex Pistols for that matter, to convert Captain Bang to true anarchy. What I did know was that the heroin was more then enough to convert Captain Bang, along with the rest of the crew. So when Captain Bang had one of his men bring me my box, I knew everything would be ok.

I hastily opened the metal case that Joralg gave me to see if everything was inside. It was. After checking if the contents of my case were safe I noticed that the box looked somehow different. Instead of the box being just black, there were now flowers painted on the out side.

"Who painted the flowers on my case?" I asked.

"Um. . . sorry, I got bored. I was goin' t' keep th' case, an' I thought ye were goin' t' walk th' plank or whatever. Sorry," said the pirate who brought me the case. I later learned his name was Booty. His name had a meaning, but I kept looking at his butt.

"It's ok, how about you sit down with Captain Bang. I would love to give both of you a present," I said.

"Oh yes. . . I love sitting." Booty said as he plopped down on the couch in which Captain Bang was sitting. Booty sat very close to Captain Bang.

"And I love presents." Captain Bang said. Who doesn't I thought? Who doesn't?

I pulled out the needles and surprisingly Booty and Captain Bang were not scared of the needles at all. Even when I penetrated their skin to inject the heroin they were not scared in the slightest. The months on the sea must have hardened them from being afraid of experimentation and penetration.

It took a while for the heroin to take effect. It must have taken so long because they were so weathered from the sea. Then without a moments notice Booty started screaming.

"Ahh, thar's spiders on me legs! Thar crawlin' in t' me skin, help! Help!"

Captain bang seemed unaffected by the yelling.

"I do enjoy dancing." Captain Bang said. He then stood up and fell directly onto his face. This was disconcerting. I meant for the Heroin to convert the pirates, not make them freak out. I knew what I had to do. I calmly walked over and locked the door tight, and then I grabbed one of the needles and injected my self full of the liquid love. Like last time all my muscles tightened up, my eyes saw god, then I collapsed.

"Thar be spiders in me skin!" Booty cried for eight hours.


Chapter 9: Time Changes People

I awoke in a bed. I was not expecting this as I had locked myself in Captain Bang's parlor. I assumed that Captain Bang must have awoken from his anarchist conversion and using his strong muscles he carried me to my bed. He had very huge muscles.

I climbed out of bed. I felt rested, and I had a good night's rest. I walked out of the room to see five or six pirates pulling ropes and swabbing decks, those sorts of thing. I yawned.

"Hey. . . mate, where's captain Bang."

"His parlor," a pirate said as he turned his head away.

The Pirate's voice was very shaky. I walked toward the parlor. As I walked, I noticed that the carefree atmosphere was much different than before. I remembered the pirates being a lot more flamboyant the day before. I looked back at the pirate I just talked to and I noticed he had a black eye. This was new since last night. I wondered how he got it and why everyone was so sad. Oh well, I was about to see Captain Bang.

I knocked on the door to the parlor. His door was shut. I knocked again. Once again, no reply. I assumed it was ok to walk in; he was a converted anarchist and all. I being an anarchist only made it more reasonable to walk in. I walked in.

"Get out!" Captain Bang yelled from the shadows.

"Captain Bang." I said, with the soft and caring voice.

"There you are; give me some more of that stuff." He sounded really excited to see me.

"Captain Bang, are you an anarchist now."

"Shut up, give me the injection, I need the injection." He then ran from the corner of the room and tackled me. "Give it to me, give it to me now." He pressed his face to mine. "Give it to me." I turned my head so we didn't kiss. "I need it." I saw Booty in the corner of the room. He was crying and his clothes were all torn. He looked at me, his soft and child like face was now veiny and cracked. He looked like a monster.

"Heeerrrriiiiooonnnn." Booty slowly said as he drooled and shook.

At this point I was freaking out. My good friend Booty was a zombie and Captain Bang was trying to kiss me, or something, I'm not really sure. He was starting to drool as well. Suddenly I heard a large explosion off in the distance. I turned toward the explosion and without any notice the wall exploded. The explosion blasted Captain Bang off my body, I was unscathed. As I sat up I looked out the gaping hole in the wall, and I saw my worst enemy. I saw a British battle ship full of cannons ready to destroy everyone on board the Polden Parrot.

"Anarchy in the U.K. mother fuckers!"


Chapter 10: Old Friends

I ran out side to see the pirates on board already fighting the British troops. It made me happy to see that anarchy was alive and well in my fellow pirates' hearts. The pirates were fighting well, but I knew they needed help. I knew they needed the power of Captain Bang and Booty to survive. I needed the Heroin to quell the insatiable urges that were destroying Captain Bang and Booty from the inside out.

I ran up to a pirate who was sword fighting a British troop and said, "Hey, have you seen that black box that had flowers painted on it? I need it."

All the pirate could say was, "wait, I'm fighting. . . " then he was speared by the British trooper's sword. Gees. I asked another pirate and he said that they hid the box in a chest on the front of the boat. He explained to me how last night Captain Bang started fighting everyone looking for the box. He said they gave it to him, but he beat them anyways. He said they assumed the box was full of the devil or something, so they hid it in some chest in the front of the ship. The pirate I was talking to was then shot because he wasn't paying attention to the battle at all.

I knew what I needed. I needed that box, and I needed those drugs. I ran to the front of the ship avoiding all battles. I am really strong, but I had different goals in mind. I saw the chest. It wasn't very hard to find, and I was just about to open it when I heard a familiar voice.

"To open that chest you have to get through me." It was Joralg. Well, it looked like Joralg. It must have been his great great great great great grandpa or something like that. Now this was a new twist to my adventure. To get the heroin I had to kill Joralg's ancestor. If I did that, Joralg would never be born, thus Joralg would die. If I didn't fight Joralg's ancestor, I would never get the heroin. If I didn't get the heroin, Captain Bang would never be able save his crew. If he couldn't save his crew, anarchy would never be spread across the nation, and Joralg would be killed by the fuzz in the future.

I didn't know what to do except say, "I hate you, you fucking Nazi's."

Joralg's ancestor seemed very confused; he didn't know what a Nazi was. He ran at me with all his weight, yelling like he owned this boat. Captain Bang owned this boat. So I punched him with the force of an exploding star system. I gave him an uppercut to the front teeth. Since he was yelling and running, I missed his chin and punched directly into his front teeth. I could feel his teeth enter my finger bones. I could feel his teeth breaking. I could feel my fingers breaking. I watched as the many teeth fragments scattered across the sky. Some teeth flew to the side. Most broke through his lip, I saw a piece of his tooth come out his nose.

Joralg's ancestor collapsed right there. I was so fucking hardcore. I knew I did the right thing. Violence is probably the most important part of being an anarchist. If Joralg was never going to be born, it was up to me to keep anarchy alive. He would have wanted it that way.


Chapter 11: The Monster Inside Us All

I grabbed the black flower painted box from the chest. As I ran back to Captain Bang I yelled, "Die you fucking fascists." I think it helped rally the pirates.

I entered the parlor to see Captain Bang puking up blood. His eyes were red and his muscles seemed larger then ever. He looked like a demon. I opened the black case and pulled out a syringe. I was shocked to see that this was the last syringe. There was a year's supply in that case. Where had they all gone? In my moment of panic Captain Bang somehow grew to be 15 to 20 feet tall. He lifted me up in one of his hands. He was naked.

I was really scared. He said something, but it was all demonic gibberish. He lifted me towards his mouth; he was going to eat me.

"Down with the State!" I yelled as I stabbed Captain Bang in the neck with the last heroin needle. He dropped me. I fell to the ground, and I watched Captain Bang shrink back to his original size.

I stood up and walked over to Captain Bang. I wanted to help him to his feet. Suddenly I was jumped by Booty, he grappled from behind, and he was choking me with the force of ten heroin attics. I tried yelling, but I couldn't.

"Hhhheeeerrrrrriiiiiooooonnn!" Booty wanted heroin. He wanted it bad. If he couldn't get it, he would just kill everyone in his path. My vision was fading. I felt like the blood in my head was going to burst out my eyes. Then suddenly Booty's face exploded.

It was Captain Bang. He shot Booty; he shot him square in the face. Booty's head was now on my face, as well as all over Captain Bang's naked body.

"Captain Bang, why." I asked.

"There's nothing more violent then killing your brother, and isn't that what anarchy is all about? Violence. Besides, he was already dead. There was no more heroin anyways, look there all in his stomach. Booty was already dead." I looked at Booty's dead decapitated body, Captain Bang was right, all the heroin needles were shoved in Booty's body. He must have stole used them all last night.

Captain Bang was standing there naked. I could really see why Captain Bang was one of the most powerful pirates to have ever existed. "Now let's kill those fascist British pigs." I'm glad to see that the heroin turned Captain Bang into an anarchist. I would have been sad if it was all a waste.

"Here take this." Captain Bang threw me a rifle. We walked out together to realize that the last of his crew was being killed. There were still ten British troops left alive, and only two of us true anarchist pirates. I was scared, but Captain Bang said something that changed my life. He said, "Heraclitus once said, 'conflict is the origin of everything.'" I didn't really understand what he meant until recently. What he was saying was that all this conflict that Captain Bang and I had been through, the killing of Booty, Captain Bang trying to eat me, and now our battle with the British fascist, something had happened. We had become friends. Yes, he was saying that because of all the violence, were now best friends. This gave me the power. But was it enough power to beat the British fascists?


Chapter 12: Yes It Was

With heightened awareness endowed from Captain Bang I broke British troops teeth with the butt of my gun, I blocked swords with my rifle, and I shot those fucking British troops all the way to Hell.


Chapter 13: A Possibility for Ultimate Friendship

After the battle the naked Captain Bang put his arm around me. We walked over to his parlor. The parlor now had only one wall; the cannon blasts must have destroyed the other three. We sat down on his couch, our legs were touching; it was weird because he was naked. He lit up a cigar.


"No, I'm fine." I said.

"You sure? Oh well. Suit yourself. . . Great battle wasn't it."

"Oh yea, invigorating."

Captain Bang puffed on his cigar. "I love to battle. That was an excellent last battle; it was one for the ages."

"Wait, last battle."

"Yes, last battle. Well, I guess it's time I told you. . . I have cancer. I only have a few more weeks to live."

"What! But. But. . . no."

"Sadly, yes. I know we just became best friends and all, but it's time for me to go. Besides there's no more heroin, I don't want to turn into that beast again. I don't want to hurt you. I love you too much."

"I love you, too. Just. . . just not now." I cried.

"Yes, now." The naked Captain Bang stood up, puffed on his cigar then walked over to the table where a handgun was waiting. He picked up the gun and turned around. "We ride together. . . we die together. . . bad boys for life."

And with that Captain Bang shot himself in the face, instantly killing himself.

"We ride together, we die together, that would mean I would have to kill myself right now. Fuck that! I'm not that good of a friend."


Chapter 14: Reflection

I sat on the couch a long time and thought about why I was here. My main life goal was to be in the history books, to last forever. I realized that my name might not be in any history books, but I did change history. I also wondered about this anarchy thing, did I really believe it? I think I did, I think I did. I thought about changing history, I thought about being written about in history books. I wanted to be in history books because books are a lasting testament of our world. I realized right then the error of my ways.

"Books can burn, but anarchy never dies mother fuckers!"

I sat on Captain Bang's couch and sang my heart out, as the burning boat sank. "I am an antichrist. I am an anarchist. Don't know what I want. But I know how to get it. I wanna destroy the passerby."

Share on Facebook
Tweet about this Piece

see other pieces by this author

Poor Mojo's Tip Jar:

The Next Fiction piece (from Issue #226):

Till Tomorrow
by Julio Peralta-Paulino

The Last few Fiction pieces (from Issues #224 thru #220):

Ping Pang Qiu
by Dr. Christopher Kelen

So There I am Painting the House, Two Floors Up
by Tom Sheehan

The Beach Event
by Fritz Swanson

A Wide Ass And No Shame
by Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz

Red Berries
by Chase McGuire

Fiction Archives

Contact Us

Copyright (c) 2000, 2004, David Erik Nelson, Fritz Swanson, Morgan Johnson

More Copyright Info