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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item.php/item_id/2066511-Theopolis
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Nonsense · #2066511
A punk who wants to be a hero
Theopolis



My name is Theopolus, Theo to my friends, not that I need friends, mind you. They are far too humdrum and greedy and only good for a quick fix or rare favor once in a while.

Many lesser people might describe me as unsociable, others perhaps as hostile, and still others as conceited. That’s because I am smarter than most, clever to a fault, and always exact in everything I say or do. That Star Trek dude with the pointed ears, Spock, has nothing on me; logic is like my middle name.

A little while ago a soldier came into the coffee shop. Actually, he was an old fart, a retired or retard soldier actually, wearing one of those stupid baseball caps with all the different colored ribbons and bits of metal junk pinned on it and acting like the world owed him because he was a genuine hero. Stacy, a hot chick I’ve been trying to seduce, actually thanked the dude for his service to our country.

What a load of crap! Old dude just enjoyed killing people and got away with it, because it was declared legal since he was brainwashed into believing some gooks on the other side of the world were going to take away our freedom. Anyone who would buy that is as dumb as a box of rocks.

I said, “Hey man, you kill a lot of women and kids in the name of freedom? Bet you would still like to go out and slice and dice a few babies just for kicks.”

The crazy old dude gave me a nasty stare and walked away with his black coffee, didn’t even bat an eye or defend his principles, not that he could have had any worth defending. Anyone who would fall for that government propaganda is a bit unhinged in my books.

Of course, my pointing out the obvious truth didn’t win me any brownie points with Stacy. No big deal, there are a lot of hot chicks to pick from. I’m so refined and polished; I don’t have to settle for a snotty bimbo like her.

Shortly after that, a preacher strolled in for his daily mug of latte. He was one of those papists who kowtowed to that Pope dude over in Italy. “Seen a few altar boys lately?” I asked him. “I was just kidding around but the dude got all irritated and offensive on me.”

“God will judge you one day,” He stated. “You must learn to heed the words of the good book.”

“And what book is that, Rabbi?” I asked, knowing that calling him a Rabbi would tickle his fancy. “Is that the one with all that cock-and-bull about a white haired Charlton Heston up there somewhere who will keep us safe and bring us to everlasting joy and peace? He didn’t take care of the gooks the Army dude over there killed, did he, or the boys in the hood popped by those sleazy cops? Where was he when they needed him?”

I sniggered as the bible thumper joined the crazy Army dude. Neither one of them was smart enough to realize they had been bamboozled by the government and the overzealous religious nuts. Everyone knows that religion is the root of all war. Most of these religious phonies live in mega mansions with air conditioned dog houses and hot and cold running maids. How anyone can fall for that claptrap I’ll never know. They must really be some kind of stupid.

A couple of my favorite dudes waddled in an hour later, two hotshot cops from the local precinct. I knew them because they actually tried to bust me several times when I went to sell some yellow jackets to a bunch of young school kids playing basketball around the corner from where I live. The two cops were dumb enough to think I would have the stuff on me. Real losers!

“Well if it isn’t tweedle dee and tweedle dumb,” I said, as they parked their broad butts on counter stools across from me. “Shot any unarmed kids lately?”

“That mouth of yours is going to get you into deep kimchi one day, boy.” The bigger of the two replied. “You keep raggin’ on people the way you do, someone’s going to lay into you like white on rice.”

“I study martial arts,” I replied. “Bring’em on, I’ll show you pigs how to keep the peace without using those hoody killers. Without your bang-bangs you cops are nothing!”

On my way home I thought about Stacy. I just couldn’t get the broad out of my mind for some stupid reason. Couldn’t she see how splendidly I handled those cops? I remember her watching one day as one of her friends was gunned down by one of those, heroes. Actually, he was shot by another gang dude but the cops just stood there and watched it happen like the brainless idiots they are.

I am the genuine hero; I’m the one who stood up for her when they pushed her around in front of her friends. As for that Army dude, a uniform doesn’t make a hero. I don’t wear a silly uniform and I could beat the likes of him to a pulp on any given day, even when he was a young dude. Someone has to stand up to these fruitcakes of society who think they’re a gift to the world, and believe a badge or suit of clothes makes them better than the rest of us.

Guys like me, and believe me when I state there are very few who can measure up, need to protect the rest of society from these arrogant dudes and the sleazy politicians stuffing their pockets. Maybe I should create a super hero outfit like Spiderman or Batman, and fight them. I can see the hot chicks on the cable news now drooling over my awesome physique and devilish good looks.

After all, Theo in Greek means, God!



Word count: 997

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