All posts tagged short stories

Words As Weapons

I had a strange thought on Sunday morning.

As I woke up, I pondered what would be the case if people were to wield words as weapons instead of something like a gun, a knife, or something torturous like a Mariah Carey CD. 

So I developed this thought for about ten minutes before I came up with the following. It's pretty much a half-thought-up tiny-ass skit that could be done on some sort of a comedy show with a high tolerance for profanity. If such a show exists, you might want to consider hiring me, or at the very least offering me a drink… maybe some sex… who the fuck knows, really.

We're at a lovely gala ball. People are dancing, everyone's dressed nice. It's fancy. A little too fancy. Something must be done to break up the pleasantness of the ball.

Perfect timing because all of a sudden, the doors bust open and in walks a tall man, his face covered in the sweat and agony of a world unkind to us all, but even more so for him.

"Freeze motherfuckers!" he yells at the top of his lungs, walking straight through the crowds of dancers with a sack. The music gets cut off as this man intrudes upon this fancy shindig.

"In case you haven't heard, this right here is a robbery. I plan to rob all of ya'll, so get out all of your motherfucking cash, cards, wallets, purses, jewelery and dump them in an orderly fashion inside this sack that myself and my cohorts are walking around to you with."

At this point, in walk a few more men dressed like this original fellow carrying sacks and walking around getting the bounty of this evening. The leader starts pacing the floor as people obey.

By now, a man — a rather small man at that — who's been steadily trying to pick up a cheap blonde for most of the nights picks up on one interesting observation that no one else seems to see despite the people already giving away their prized assets: these people have no weapons.

"Err, excuse me–" the small man pipes in. "You don't have any weapons. How are supposed to be threatening?"

The gang leader stops his pacing and looks at the individual. He puts his fingers up to his lips and then smiles.

"Bitch, I don't need weapons. I've got words as my motherfucking weapons," he yells out, making sure everyone has heard him.

Okay now hold on. This is obviously very confusing. This guy is a crackpot. How can you have words as a weapon. Words are just… well, words. They're spoken and written, but hardly tangible objects that can beat you senseless with physical depth.  Still, he goes on.

"See what you don't understand is that words are very powerful. Words can make you listen or just knock the wind right out of you," he says to the confused looks of the people slowly giving their goods to the team of individuals sent to do this nutjob's bidding.

Not getting anywhere, the leader takes a different approach."

Okay, fuck this. If you want something you can understand then here me on this one, bitches," he begins. "I will reign down fury on your motherfucking homes. I will incite violence and pound into the ground with my bare fists. But do not make me mad for I will bring out my arsenal at that point. I command adverbs, adjective, particles and articles. And shit, don't make me get out my punctuations. I will slap a period down on you so hard it'll make you bleed!"

And next to the little man who spoke out earlier is the cute blonde he was trying to nail all night. She speaks out this time.

"I already have one," she says.

Yes, I know. It's not very good. Seriously, what the hell did you expect from me.

I'll try better next time.