By Robert Escobar, Spring 2001
Argument
What is villainy?
Can I write of villainy if I’ve never been villainous?
Villainous things I have done:
1) This year -
a) Accepting over three hundred dollars…
b) Accepting two weeks of vacation… (value = $1,527)
2) Last five years -
a) Tricking two friends into fighting at work by sitting “Go to…”
3) All previous years -
a) Stealing things, from many people, many places
b) Vandalizing, many people’s things, many places
c) Assisting in the setting fire of a minor forest fire, with the help of a Nazi skinhead
Conclusion:
Although “Mostly Harmless,” I can probably come up with something.
Quotes:
“You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.” – Obi Wan Kenobi
“This world is the true hell.” – Benjamin Franklin
Story:
Bad Guy
He slinked away from the poster. Moving with reptilian grace, he passed along the street, unable to endure more.
If he had to see an advertisement for one more movie where the villain was all but dressed in a black cloak, twirling a fake handelbar mustache… just one more where the clean as a whistle, dumb as a post good guy won… he would… well, he didn’t know that he would do, but it wouldn’t be pretty, not a bit. No one understood the villain, he lamented. A true villain, such as himself, was not some sneering genius who lost 200 IQ points as soon as the good guy showed himself for the final battle. A true villain looked innocuous, harmless. So harmless he barely registered in people’s perceptions. He could walk into a room, ruin a life, and exit without so much as stirring the air.
Hitler was not a villain, the men who killed Kennedy, now they were villains! Why, because of the man they killed? Hardly, because you don’t know their names.
Good Guy
Getting closer, getting closer. Being the good guy wasn’t easy. Actually, it was the harder of the two jobs, he thought. The villain got to act on impulse, giving him in to childish fantasies about proving superiority by hurting those around him. The villain liked to fancy himself debonair, predatory, and above the rest. Nothing could be farther from the truth. He, the good guy, he was the predator dammit. Nature had sent him to hunt down the bad guy, not the other way around. He would find the villain, and when he did, the foolish, cruel games would end.
“We’ll see who’s clever then.”
He smiled at the thought.He might not be as smart as his enemy, but he understood the villain well enough. After all, hadn’t he hunted him across the city? Feeling like a parent who must rouse himself out of bed to end the children’s foolishness before one of them gets hurt. Ya, that was about right. The villain was nothing more than a child misbehaving and the good guy was the parent, able to see the little one’s plans and motivations as easily as…. Ohhhh!
The good guy looked up, dazed and confused. He’d tripped over his own feet again.
—————
“What a dumbass!” the villain thought. The laughter gained momentum like an avalanche until his stomach was cramped, tears formed in his eyes and he stopped breathing almost completely. “Ahhhhh, that’s why I don’t kill him.” He’d almost forgotten why, in fact, he didn’t just kill that broad-shouldered baffoon now. Too much entertainment value.
The good guy got up, dusting himself off. “These boots aren’t practical,” he though. I mean, what about when he found the bad guy. What if the bad guy’s not wearing boots? He could probablay be outrun in that case. This was something to consider…
…
…
…
The villain looked at his watch. For two godforsaken hours the good guy had stood there, staring down at his boot like a dog trying to comprehend a globe. He just wasn’t going to get it.
“Some adversary,” the villain mused. Stalking your supposed hunter had seemed so ingenius at the time. The irony, the illicit thrill of following his rival dow the path he himself had created. Allowing his excitemeto build as he found clue after clue. Fancying that he catching up, that the final showdown was properly prepared. Until the momet when the hair n the back of his thick neck was raised and his hands were subtly quivering. At that moment, when his well intentioned, half-witted foe felt that all his effort would finally pay off… At that blessed moment his life would end. A cruel, intelligent laughter would fill his ears, he would turn over and as he breathed his final breath in his last conscious moment, his eyes would drinkin the villain and the reality of his utter failure would be the vessel in which his fleeting soul would depart.
That was the idea, anyway.
Unfortunately, things were progressing rather slowly. After pickingup the first clue, the good guy had inexplicablay turned immediately off the path. The villain’s jaw literally fell open. It wasn’t easy getting the fool back on track. Once accomplished, the villain relaxed. A tremendous sigh of relief escaped from his lips.
The second clue had gone much better, at least, that was what appeared to be happening at first. The fool had actually found the damn thing and although that was cause to celebrate, it was merely the prelude to another poster and sure enough, like a pig finding a truffle, had spotted the villain’s emblem. Then, working along some horribly warped form of logic, the good guy had marched rought up the counter and purchased a tic
“I’m not in the fucking movie!” the villain had almost screamed. Following his hunter/prey, the villain decided a break might now be such a bad thing. Perhaps he could sleep while his adversary was dazzled by all the pretty colors. The villain didn’t have much time for movies and such. He was busy crushing the spirits of innocent strangers, pulling strings and watching the puppets dance. “Ah well, maybe I’ll even watch the bloody thing,” he decided.
A fourth of the way through the movie, the villain had made a decision.
Apparently, good guys wrote movies.
Nearing the halfway point, the villain realized he was trembling. “Is this what people think villains are like?” he muttered to himself. “They can’t, they just… can’t.”
Half an hour later, his head was swimming, His hands had become lead, his arms rubber. He tried to leave the theater, but couldn’t. All he could do was stare, stare into the abyss.
Three-fourths of the way through now, judging by the simple-minded plot that unfolded before him. He wondered if it would be un-villainous of him to commit suicide before killing the good guy. The life force was draining out of him, The abomination, the movie villain on the screen, seemed to steal a glance in his direction, as if to say, “You and I are one.”
“Nnnnnooooo,” he tried to scream, but what came out was a half breath. The breath of a dying man.
In the end, it was too much. He knew he was dying. His thoughts began to sink as his nerves withered up like dead leaves. His mouth was dry as a desert. He glanced up and saw the movie was over. The credits rolled past him. With his final effort, he looked for the good guy. No one there, the theater was empty.
“No,” he hissed. He had sat close enoughthat he couldn’t possibly miss the hunter/prey leaving. “Impossible…”
His legs unraveled. His feet slid across the aisle floor like tired snakes until his boots touched the empty seat in front of him.
“Boots?”
“Boots,” another voice answered.
“Who are you?”
“You know.”
“I don’t, you can’t be…”
“I can and I do. What’d do you think of my plan?”
“And I thought I was cruel,” the villain responded.
A pimply-faced usher brushed the shoulder of the dead man he thought was asleep. Asleep ad blocking his aisle.
“Sir, sir, you’ll have to exit the theater now. The next showing of Battlefield Earth is in fifteen minutes.”
