Up until this point, people had responded with reserved interest. But that wasn’t the reaction I was looking for. I wanted to force people to take a side: did they like this, or not? Was it funny? Was it disturbing? Was it, as nom de pomme put it, “1 part funny and 9 parts disturbing?”
I was not content to leave the question to history. From my Tanzmetall account, I asked j_wilkin to send us something that didn’t involve the death of a black person.
This is something I wrote last month, it’s a little funnier.
- – - – -
My First Fish
We did what all red-blooded American families did: we flushed him down the toilet. It was supposed to teach me a lesson, about humility: when you die, son, they said… When you die, we’ll flush you too.
This was typical of my parents, using psychological strong-arm tactics to force me to agree to their various whims. This was the World War I to the oncoming Treaty of Versailles. And I found myself on the wrong side of the table.
My parents liked to tell me to do things. James, would you take out the garbage, James, would you follow Daddy to see where he’s going today, James would you lie to the police for me? And it was through little shows of power, like flushing my fish before he died, that they controlled me, and that they made me do their bidding. But I tired of it. I tired of their games. And sooner or later, I decided it was time that they play mine.
I followed Daddy, all right. You know what, Mom? He went to the pharmacy to pick up some aspirin. But I told you he went to Miss McMullen’s house, didn’t I? Those middle-school math teachers are just so loose, I know. And you had every right to suspect him of cheating when you were, too, yes, it makes perfect sense. But it was surprising when I took his side after he got home, wasn’t it? Maybe I was legitimately swayed by his argument that you should care for me first, and maybe I was wrapping you both around my little bitty finger.
Sooner or later I had them both at my beck and call, and they didn’t even know it. I even had mommy’s black boyfriend at my mercy. He wanted out—he wanted out REAL bad. He knew what he’d gotten himself into. The others didn’t.
I guess I turned that table.
It ended predictably, with all three of their bodies entwined in a gruesome, loving posture of mixed grappling. Some were grappling some for a grope, others to be garrotted. They all died in this grisly, Twister-game pile on the bathroom floor. I set them on fire.
Then I flushed their ashes.
To which I (Tanzmetall) responded,
Tanzmetall
Okay, that may have been a bit more comedic than screaming through melted fingers, but you still killed a black person in it.
j_wilkin
Oh, sorry. I didn’t even notice that.
Suddenly I had started a conversation. The writers were all wondering who he was. A thread spawned in our administrative forum, where Burpen shared his internet detectivery, people discussed the identity of James Wilkin, and whether he should be admitted. I fielded questions in person, through AIM, professed my ignorance–except to farkle-farkle, from whom I have no secrets, and nervestaple, who didn’t care.
doctor_subtle
Brutal humorist?
Crass Racist?
Troll?
I don’t know yet.
I did enjoy the comment though, when someone pointed out that he killed another black person in the third story, he was like “oh- you’re right! I didn’t even notice!” because, you know, killing blacks just isn’t worth noticing.
He needs to send us more stuff, and if its better and different he’s probably good. But if its not, he’s an unfunny racist riding the same antibellum horse until it dies.
Grabass_Champion
Ja… it’s a tough call. Does anyone actually know him?
It is kind of nice for the forums to get attention from an as-yet non-writer. At least it’s making things a bit more interesting. I personally think his stuff is mostly hilarious. They’re something different. I think (maybe, as was mentioned, minus some [but not all] of the black people slayings) we should hire him for our bzneszs.
Great. The train was moving away from the station! Time to pick up the momentum.
