Paranoia — a short story

Posted on 2016 May 1


%22paranoia%22 Hand-Gun

Why am I in the hospital? It’s obvious. They conspired against me.

There I was, minding my own business, writing a comment on a buddy’s Facebook post, when some other guy out of nowhere butts in and insults me. For no reason!

What did he write? I don’t even remember. Doesn’t matter. But it was obviously aimed at me. Something like, “Are you sure that’s true?” or “We in the peanut gallery are going nuts!” Obvious attack on me. I showed it to my wife. She said, “Yes, dear.” She always says that. Boring.

So I decided to put him in his place. I wrote, “Shut up.” He said something stupid and then nothing after that. Got rid of him.

But it still bugged me. How come my buddy is Facebook friends with a jerk who insulted me? Shows a serious lack of judgment. Okay, sure, my buddy has a super-hot girlfriend — man, I’d like to get a piece of that action! Who wouldn’t? — but what’s she doing with him if he has jerky friends? And he didn’t delete the bad comment against me? This was becoming serious. I needed to have a talk with her about him.

So I called her and asked if she’d meet me for coffee so we could discuss the problem. I was hoping that maybe, if I explained things to her, she’d read him the riot act. Or maybe she’d finally realize her boyfriend is a jerk and leave him. For me.

Anyway, she said she’d meet with me, so we did, and I bought her coffee and tried to explain the problem to her, but she wasn’t getting it. In fact, she seemed to be taking her boyfriend’s side. Plus, I was having trouble concentrating because she’s so friggin’ hot. It’s not fair of women to be that hot. It puts pressure on us guys.

I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly I was kissing her. She tried to push me away, but I could tell she liked it. She made a big show of getting up and leaving, but I think I made progress with her.

Still it bugged me, my buddy and his insulting friend. My buddy invited me to a party he was throwing. I asked if the insulting guy would be there. He said yes. I didn’t reply, didn’t RSVP. I was thinking.

It was time for action. I decided to bring my gun to the party, just show up and maybe confront the bastard who’d insulted me on Facebook, wave the gun in his face, watch him crap in his pants. That’d be awesome. And it’d probably impress the hell outta my buddy’s super-hot girlfriend. I wasn’t gonna shoot anybody, of course. But I’d make sure the clip was in and a bullet in the chamber, ‘cause you never know when some clown might make a move against you.

So I got to the party, said hi to my buddy, tried to say hi to his girlfriend, but she backed away. So coy! I had a few drinks. Just four or five, didn’t want to get sloppy.

Finally I figured out which partygoer was the insulting jerk on Facebook. I confronted him. “So you’re the insulting jerk,” I said, knowing he’d realize I’d caught up with him. He looked confused, acting as if he didn’t know what I was talking about. Right, sure. Then he had the stones to say, “If I wrote anything that bothered you, I certainly didn’t mean to. We were all just bantering.” Right, pal, as if you didn’t know what you were doing! Trying to hide from your crimes.

So I pulled the gun and waved it under his nose. I said, “How do you like this for banter?” His eyes got really big. I liked that, watching him cringe. It felt really good. I was tempted to look down and see if there was a big wet spot on his pants where he musta been pissing on himself. Putting him in his place felt so good. I hoped my buddy’s girlfriend was watching. Imagine the sex we could have after a moment like this!

The insulting jerk’s eyes had narrowed. Weird. Then he asked, “What kind of weapon is it?” as if he didn’t quite believe it was real. I looked at the gun. “It’s a Glock Nine, pal, and you better—” but suddenly I was lying on the ground and he was standing over me with my own gun in his hand! The bastard! He said something loud about “Stay right there, don’t move” but I got up and rushed him. There were two really loud bangs and it felt like a giant kicked me in the chest. I was lying on the ground again. People were screaming, and somebody stumbled over my legs as they ran past. I felt a warm wet ooze on my chest. That’s all I remember.

The docs say it was a miracle the bullets missed my heart and my — what’s it called? — my aorta. The slugs went into my right lung, collapsing it. But they re-inflated it and I should be okay in a couple of weeks and good as new in a few months.

I’m gonna unfriend my buddy. Ex-buddy. He didn’t lift a finger to stop the insulting jerk from shooting me. Almost like he wanted the guy to do it. What kind of buddy is that?

Still, I wonder if his girlfriend will visit me in the hospital. I got shot defending my honor — her honor, too, if you think about it — and she’s just gotta appreciate it. And she’ll kiss me, and I’ll take her away from my ex-buddy. And that’ll show them.


Posted in: Fiction, Humor