Life's funny sometimes, if you ask me. You take and ask for so much, completely disregarding common sense, morals and humanity in exchange for menial desire and your own twisted views, and then life eventually throws a rock at you and tells you what a horrible human being you are. The public considers you a different person, acts like they don't even know who you are anymore and then you're alienated for the rest of your life; just like that. Karma can seriously be hilarious sometimes, especially when you don't see it coming.
Excuse my rambling, I've yet to introduce myself properly: my name is Allen T. Benski, and I am currently serving a 5-year sentence due to crimes I didn't fully understand the implications for until the last minute. I'm currently 25, and have been a college graduate for 3 years. Now, you're probably asking yourself "why be put in jail for something you didn't know you'd be genuinely punished for?". Here's the thing about all that; I DID understand my wrongdoings, but I just didn't take them seriously enough. It's like, hell, I'm just a dude in my 20's, gimme a break here. Y'know?
Except I've come to learn that inexperience and age aren't red flags stating that I've done nothing terrible. EVERYTHING I've done over the past week was terrible.
Lemme start off by saying that it was my 25th birthday a few days ago. Basically a milestone in my life, right? I ordered Chinese takeout for myself and some friends, and it was taking quite a bit longer than I was expecting. One of my buds said "This is bullshit. It DOES not take this long to produce cuisine from the same country you're in. Allen, head over there and get the food". I argued with him for a bit, but I eventually agreed that it was taking too long. I drove over to the restaurant, angrily stormed in, and asked the cashier where the food was. "It'll just be a bit, chill", he said. With the peer pressure and jock mentality of my friends clouding my judgement, I grabbed him by his shirt and shouted "FUCK YOU. I ORDERED TWO HOURS AGO, AND I WANT THE GODDAMN FOOD NOW, YOU MENTALLY DEFICIENT IMMIGRANT".
This, understandably, led to him calling the police and me racing out of the place, then I spotted a robbery in the distance, with a fully loaded criminal dropping his RPG by accident. I immediately called my friends about these incidents, and they once again pressured me into handling them quickly despite my arguments. I frantically grabbed the RPG, shot it at the restaurant, then turned around and shot at the police cars for some cheap laughs.
Being an RPG, it was fairly heavy and I wondered how I could lift it so easily. I drove home soon after and announced the murders I've done, much to the shock of my friends.
"Dude... what the hell? We just wanted you to get the food, not kill people", "Allen, that is completely unlike you. I know we pressure you at times, but we're just messing around. You didn't have to go to those extremes", "I hope you're not going to pass off felonies just because you wanted takeout... I mean, Jesus Christ". Those were among the accusations thrown my way for what I thought was just palling around and going by the darkly humorous standards of my acquaintances. "Look, guys, I know what I did was fucked up; I really do. But above all else, those guys HAD to have known that I wasn't being legit. Right?". One of my friends, Randy Powell, just stared in ever increasing shocked at what I was saying.
"Allen... you KILLED A MAN. No, scratch that... BLEW UP INNOCENT PEOPLE THAT HAVE DONE NOTHING TO YOU. There's a difference between practical jokes and being a stone cold murderer. Really, I'm almost concerned at this point". Even that didn't phase me, and I simply raised my eyebrow and said "...so? I was still just messing around". My other two friends, Jason Craig and Terrence Bailiff, simply muttered statements to the effect of "oh my God" and "...what the fuck are we even hearing right now?". Randy came over to me with a solemn look on his face and silently, but poignantly, said "Allen... I think you might be sociopathic".
Before I knew it, I was taken to a mental health clinic down in Vermont the next day. After waiting on a chair outside of the doctor's office, she brought in a checklist with a smile on her face. "Hello, Mr. Benski. I'm Pearl, and I'll be diagnosing you today. However, given the procedure of determining mental disorders such as this, I'll need to ask you some questions", she said. I looked up at her with a rather fittingly neutral expression and said "Sure".
"Have you ever experienced sadness at the passing of someone you know?".
"Can't say I have. Most of the people I've known are either douche-bags or have brought their deaths on themselves, to be perfectly frank".
"...hmm, right, right... okay. Do you happen to have an extensive and established criminal record?".
"The restaurant I blew up a day ago, along with the police cars? Tip of the iceberg, ma'am". I laughed heartily, which visibly unnerved her.
"I see... have you ever had sexual relations with another woman, and if so, was it at all consensual?".
"Well... me and some buds were down at Vegas, and I grabbed some chick that was at the slots down near the stock room. I asked if she wanted to do it, and she didn't answer, but from the look of her face, I think she wanted to. God, though... this bitch was fucking HOT; tits like fucking She-Hulk, tall, and an ass so tight that you could put steel between the cheeks and it'd be bent after taking it out".
"...sir, I understand that you might have experienced pleasure from this event, but may I ask that you tone down the vulgarity of your wording?... we're in a hospital, after al-".
I, of course, didn't let her finish: "yeah, yeah, okay. So I had her stripped and I fucked her real hard and good. She was kinda yelping and I saw a lot of blood coming *heh heh... coming* from her... vaginal area or whatever... but I assumed that she was a masochist and didn't mind it, so I kept doing it, and then she fell to the floor like a beached whale. Didn't know what to think, really, but GODDAMN my balls were emptied like a fucking Lysol can, and I felt incredible". I then formed the most creepy smirk across my face I've formed in ages, but it was out of a comedic bent.
Pearl simply looked at me with her eyes wide open and her mouth slightly gaping. She soon composed herself, however, and then she said "alright, sweetie, one more question: how do you typically solve your problems?".
"Violence. Good ol' violence", I quickly replied, in a completely nonchalant tone of voice. "Oh, hey, there was this one situation that pissed me off SO much that there was really no other way I could approach it, but it was hilarious, so lemme tell ya what it is; it was at the Dollar Store, right? I was picking up some Cheetos to snort for the Super Bowl, then I found some black dude in a wife beater smoking a ciggy. I asked for one, and he said he was dry. I then asked if I could borrow some cash, then he started getting annoyed, which amused me. By then... heh heh... I started saying things like 'yo, throw a friendly black fellow a bone, dawg, y'know? Gimme my shit so I can get my joints and roll like a mofo out dis bitch', then he got angry and gave me the finger while saying to himself 'delinquent-ass mothafucka...'. I then got extremely angry, and started beating the living SHIT outta the guy and said 'GROW SOME FUCKING BALLS AND TAKE A JOKE, MAN! WHAT IS THIS, MR. ROGERS' SUGAR-FUCK EMPORIUM? FUCK YOU!'. The manager came out and promptly told me to leave, as I was about to get my machete out and shank him, then I rightfully scoffed and left, muttering about what pussies they all were, but I soon exploded into laughter at the pain I caused the black guy".
Pearl started sweating and looked at me with a horrified expression. She barely managed to say "...alright, th-that'll be enough, Mr. Benski" before racing frantically back into her office. A few seconds later, I heard her sobbing and writing things down, which persisted for the next 10 minutes. She came back out with a report with bloodshot eyes and shaking legs, as if she were about to fall. "Allen... unfortunately, f-from the information you've p-provided me, I'm sorry to say that you're l-legally sociopathic, with additional behavioral symptoms of bi-polar disorder".
"Oh, is that right?... Hm, alright". As I took my report and exchanged some final words and goodbyes with Pearl, her sighing with relief after we're finished, I started turning around and said "I hope you know, by the way, that THIS ENTIRE THING WAS COMPLETE BULLSHIT. YOU DUMB FUCKING SKANK; WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO COME INTO MY LIFE AND TELL ME THAT I'M MESSED UP IN THE HEAD? THERE IS LITERALLY NEXT TO NOTHING WRONG WITH ME, AND I DON'T THINK IT'S RIGHT IN THE SLIGHTEST TO SLAP A LABEL ON ME BECAUSE I DID A FEW THINGS THAT PROBABLY WEREN'T LOGICAL. STUPID CUNT". A nearby doctor came by and quickly tried to get me out of there before I could assault Pearl, but I quickly retaliated by slamming him against the wall and beating him until he was comatose and coughing blood. By that point, Pearl was so traumatized and shocked that when I started to come over to her, she took a gun she had in her desk for safe-keeping and delivered a sound verbal thrashing.
"I think I know why this country's going down the shitter; PEOPLE LIKE YOU. People who don't see anything wrong with flat out abusing others, acting on their own accord without even giving a single FUCK about the consequences. To you, being sent to jail is probably just a minor annoyance! You'll get right back out, act like nothing ever happened, then go right back to being a complete and total ASSHOLE to everyone in your path. I hope the police or whatever friends you have try to get you in jail in the next few days, because I can't bear to see you in one more news story and read about your latest prank, crime or... WHATEVER the fuck!".
I lunged at her almost immediately and pistol-whipped her, then before I finished things off, I looked her dead in the eyes and said "suck my DICK, you snobbish bitch. My friends love me, and they always will. Don't you EVER get the idea that they'll betray me into the head of society, or I'll do to them what I'm going to do to YOU right now", then I shot her in the face. I left the clinic afterwards.
Yeah, I seem like an unrepentant dick so far, don't I? I'm going around and telling people off left and right, usually with them ending up a victim of my hypocrisy and cruelty, along with basically acting like a hotshot who no one can do wrong.
But the kicker? I don't win in the end; the day after my official diagnosis, I was at the church, handing out bazaar cookies to the prayers. After I was done, my girlfriend, Carrie, who's staunchly religious, comes up to me and kisses me. "Hey, baby, this was so nice of you. Hehe... you know how the Catholics here love their bazaars!".
"No doubt, babe", I said, rather uninterested.
Carrie then looks at me, saying "...do you not want to be here, Allen? Just say so. You know how religious I am and all, but I won't force you into this stuff; I'm not like that". "Yeah...", I said. "If I could, though, I'd burn down this shithole; it's so boring". Carrie then slaps me, saying "ALLEN! Don't say things like that! You'll get in trouble". "Carrie, I was just fucking around, c'm-".
The pope overheard my remark, then came over and said "My son, if you do not wish to partake in our customs, you may take your leave. Do not, however, speak ill of the church. It is a sin". I then immediately lost my temper, saying "LIKE I COULD GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THIS SHIT! You know what this place needs? A fucking whore house built into it! That would make this boring shit at least marginally more exciting! Let me tell you something; do you think I get even an iota of enjoyment out of giving you and your little fuck-buddies cookies off a plate you probably got out of a dumpster at an Arby's? No, I DON'T. Fuck Catholicism, fuck this church, fuck your cookies and FUCK YOU". I then angrily threw the plate into his face, walked out, and said "YOU MIGHT WANNA GO MOLEST SOME KIDS TO WORK OFF YOUR IMPENDING ANGER, BY THE WAY, BUDDY!".
My girlfriend looked on in shock, then worriedly looked at the pope and said "erm... forgive him, father. He has a lingering tendency to... well, express his beliefs in a rather offensive way". He gave a nod of understanding, then soon after, I ran over to my house and back with a gasoline can and some matches. I started pouring it all over the church, which a preacher quickly noticed. He ran over to the entrance, screaming "WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU DOING, BOY?! THIS IS A HOUSE OF GOD!". I then grimly said "well, buddy... now this is a house of fire", then I set fire, burning the place to the ground. My girlfriend was the only one that managed to escape, but all she did was look at me with intense sadness before running off, crying. I put my arms up and yelled "WHAT?"... before the police came by and arrested me.
Here I am now, in prison, for my horrific deeds. Despite my mental disorder, I have to admit, what I did was horrible. What I've BEEN doing since I entered my early twenties was horrible. But the past few days was where I reached my peak in the worst way possible, and now I'm being punished. Well-deserved in your book, I know.
I still don't think I care yet, though.
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