A Killer Joke

Recently there had been a class reunion of my high school class. When I first heard about it, I was excited, truly. Finally, my classmates decided they’d accept me. I was an awkward kid at school; I was bullied and ostracized. High school was a mess. High school was terrible, I had one friend, an equally awkward girl named Seraphina. Then again, I wasn’t sure even she was my friend. For the longest time, it felt like she was just using me to avoid being lonely at school. It seemed so until we rekindled our friendship not too long ago. I remember being mocked for supposedly dating that weird girl, didn’t mind it back then – don’t mind it still. Hell, if she had shown up at the reunion half of the lads would’ve hit on her now. Good thing I told her she shouldn’t show up. Mind you she wasn’t too interested in going anyway.

So yeah, I was ecstatic to know I’d be able to show them all I was doing really well now. I’m married to the love of my life. I attended a great college and now I do something I enjoy doing for a living. I’ve gotten my life together, and I was so happy I was acknowledged by the people who bullied me for having different interests and being a little late on figuring out sex. I really was thrilled to show them all what became of me.

That’s why I wore one of my finer suits and got my rifle and a couple of grenades to the venue. The venue, heh, it was the crib of Friedman, I’m willing to bet his folks bought him the property. He wasn’t any good with his head or managing money. Not to brag or anything, but my place is nicer.

Anyway, you should’ve seen their faces when they saw me pull out of my Tesla, rifle in tow.

The reactions on their faces, turning from nostalgic smiles, to surprise, to genuine terror… that was almost orgasmic. And the screams they let out as I opened fire all over them. That was hilarious. The whole thing was like a killer joke!

I couldn’t stop laughing, the laughter didn’t help my aim. Wearing a stifling leather clown mask didn’t help either. It didn’t really matter though, cause I’ve got enough of them. A pile of human carcasses lay on the ground, some still bitching and moaning in pain as I kept on spraying my bullets all over the place.

When one of them, don’t even remember who it was, tried to play the hero and stop me, I revealed the grenades strapped to my jacket. That sure as hell gave em’ cold feet.

There was a lot of begging and yelling, I just told them I’d leave them alone if they all lied down on their fronts, closed their eyes, and placed their hands on their heads. They tried resisting, but taking one of the grenades out of my jacket and threatening to throw it at them ended all protests.

I went back to my car, but before I drove off, I took out of the pin and threw the grenade straight into the cowering crowd.

You could say I went out with a bang.

Literally, hah.

Now I know what you’re all thinking, I’m a bad guy, I’m a villain, I’m a monster; I need to be locked up or shot myself. I deserve the worst. Oh yeah, I’m well aware that’s what you all are thinking right now. It’s justifiable to hurt those who hurt others, cause nobody sane would shoot a bunch of people. Murder is a big no-no.

I’m calling bullshit; murder might be wrong, but the people who bullied that one odd slightly aggressive kid in high school and drove him to commit a massacre are also wrong. Why is nobody calling their bluff? Pushing a hurt animal around won’t make it docile. Nah, it’ll make it more aggressive.

Most consistently awkward people either have a confidence problem or a mental health issue. Mentally unhealthy people are more likely to hurt themselves more than they are likely to hurt someone else in most cases. Pushing the psychopath around won’t make them reconsider their dark urges as wrong. Nah, it’ll push them to act on those urges.

You don’t get it though, do you? You do everything right… You think everything right… I should be locked up. Right? That kid who shot up a school after he didn’t get the help he needed should get locked up, right? The people who bullied us as a defense from the perceived danger we posed didn’t do anything punishable, right? Well, wrong.

Mostly because what I did was done to teach these fuckers a lesson. Oh, you think killing people is a bad way to think someone a lesson? Well, nobody’s died from getting hit with a paintball pellet.

I didn’t go there to murder anyone. Nah, I went there to make them feel what they’ve made me feel in the past. The fear, the anger, the uncertainty. The fucking pain.

I’m pretty sure I’ve got the point across.

Do I still come off as the villain? What if I told you some of these people who now walk around with a couple of bruises bully people for god knows what reason? What if I told you haters hate others because they project their internal hate for their own existence? What I did was a fucking joke, just like the beatings I used to receive years ago, the ones that were called “jokes”.

Am I still the monster? Let it be known I could’ve brought a real weapon but that wouldn’t work as well – the dead don’t learn, and the dead don’t have much time to experience fear.

While I might’ve pulled a cruel joke with a paintball rifle and some paint grenades, but what about someone who’ll kill over being bullied, cyber bullied, or any other form of verbal abuse. Would that, too, be a killer joke?