You're Not Wrong

You’re Not Wrong

James McIntire

Alright, so here it is. Me holding a gun to my head as everyone around me is not freaking the fuck out. Yes, you heard that right. I will explain in a minute. I see the blue and red lights flash about from the bank’s windows. I know what you are thinking, and well you are right. I am cooked. I’ve been that way for a bit now. I don’t know what my next move is at this point. How I got here is wild enough and worthy of equal discussion.

To understand all that you gotta understand me. I am not a smart guy. I have work ethic and integrity. I am the last guy you bring in to resolve problems; like world peace or world hunger or some shit. But I am the guy you can depend on to be exactly where you need me to be. So now let me add to it. You know when you are in school and that big asshole shoves you against lockers or dips your head in a toilet that is overflowing? They tell you as you sit there with shit dripping down from your hair and onto your lips that when you get older this sort of thing goes away. People change as they grow up. They feed you these lines of false positivity as you smell yourself and nearly gag. Sometimes they ask you what you could have done differently to avoid such a problem. But the heart of the message is always the same. People will not victimize each other in the adult world.

Let me tell you something. That is fresh grade-A rotting bullshit. Take it from someone who has experience with all things fecal. Sure, maybe toilet dipping isn’t the thing anymore, but that doesn’t mean old age has dulled anyone’s creativity. No, instead it helps it evolve.

In my nine-to-five shithole of a workplace. I encounter all manners of bully, whether it is conferences in which my ideas are picked apart, or one on one watercooler sessions of being made the brunt of a “harmless joke”. Maybe it is gossip. Maybe it is a culture of believing they are better than me. My boss is complacent in all of this and even treats me like that shit-tasting kid that I once was and still seem to be. All of these things have left me as the office dumbass. No matter what I do or say I am always wrong. Even if I am right someone else gets the credit. I know nothing. I accept it and try to do my best. No one cares and they have their beliefs and I know one thing. They are right about me.

So how the fuck did I end up in a situation where I point a gun at myself?

While sitting with myself on the city bus performing my usual ritual of self-wallowing in despair someone asked me a question. “Does this bus stop at Tenth Street?” I don’t look up and I think it does. Instead, I say, “I don’t know.”

“Hmm, well you see friend. I think you do.”

I look up and see an older man with a gold glass eye and a black cowboy hat. He was also wearing a brown duster. He tipped his hat to me and smiled. “I think you do know,” he repeated.

“It does,” I say quietly.

“You are right, it does. Now tell me, why was it so hard to just give me the right answer?”

“I didn’t want to give you bad information.”

“But you didn’t. Is this how you always respond to questions?”

I look around the bus and see the people staring at us. I imagine their thoughts. I can almost hear their commentary. Dumbass doesn’t know how bus routes work.

“Partner, you didn’t answer me.”

“No. I just struggle with this. Please, leave me be.”

He leans down and cocks his head. After a second he chuckles and slaps his knee. “Alright partner, I will. But first, I am gonna give you something.” He steps in front of me, grabs the top of my head and stares into my eyes. I go to grab his hand and he smacks it away with his other hand. After a few more seconds, which felt so much longer, he lets go and walks off just as the bus is arriving at a stop. I don’t see or hear from this man again after he departs the bus. My life, however, does change.

I look up at the people sitting in the seat across from me. Two young adults. I can see their judgments. This was the first domino that I wouldn’t see right away. What happens next catches me off guard, but it is only the beginning of a wild time. For whatever reason as I watch these two judgmental pricks I say, “That was fucking weird.”

The two men nod and say in unison, “You are not wrong.” Not noticing the bizarre response from these two I decide to say, “Someone should do something about people like that.” The two men look at each other and nod. They look at me and stand up and say, “You are not wrong. We will take care of it.”

I watch as they approach the bus driver. I can only hear parts of the conversation. It sounds like they are telling the bus driver to stop or go back to the last stop. I can see the driver turn and look at these two. He is flailing his arms in the air. It’s obvious his answer is a hard no. One of the two pulls a knife out from his pocket and without any hesitation, they stick the blade in the throat of the bus driver. Blood spurts out onto the young man’s face. He rips the knife from the wound and proceeds to stab the driver multiple times in the chest. I watch as the driver struggles feebly to wave off the attack, but he succumbs to the bloody violence and slumps down from his seat. The other man begins stomping on the face of the driver. Blood is pooling out onto the floor and I can hear the crunch of bones and the squelch of blood.

Everyone else begins screaming in panic. The two men look at me. “He wouldn’t help us so we took care of him. Don’t worry though, we will drive the bus ourselves and find that creep.” I don’t fully understand what is happening at this point. But I watch as the man with the knife takes the seat and begins driving the bus while the other one leans over his shoulder, staring out the windshield with total conviction.

A woman sitting two seats over screams at me, “You told them to do this!?” Not even realizing what is happening yet I shout back, “No, I didn’t! Oh shit! This isn’t happening! This isn’t happening!” Suddenly the panic leaves the woman’s face and in fact everyone that heard the exchange no longer seems worried about anything that is happening. “You are not wrong,” the woman says.

I notice as the bus is picking up speed and I can hear the sound of metal scraping on metal. Still not having the situation dawn on me, I shout “Let me off here, please!” The bus comes to a sudden stop and I watch as the no longer scared passengers become scattered about on the floor and seats. I quickly get up and exit the bus. On my way out, I hear the words, “Don’t worry, we will find him.”

Out on the street and still several blocks from home, I decide to stop in at a local diner. I could use the rest and something to eat after witnessing what went down. I slump down in the blue and white checkered booth next to the window. Here in this moment, I finally become aware of what happened. I told you, I am not very smart. The server comes over and takes my order and as she comes back with a cup of coffee she says to me, “Did you just hear what happened?”

“What happened?”

“They are saying up the street the police stopped a bus. Two young kids killed the driver and hijacked it. They said the guy told them to do it. They are saying the guy is never wrong.”

“The fuck.” I say this, playing back the moments in slow motion.

“I know, right? And that ain’t all that was weird. The other people on the bus didn’t even know someone was murdered or even seemed bothered by it. Someone told me that when the police questioned a passenger, they said the man said it wasn’t happening and he is never wrong.”

“The fuck.”

“Crazy world. Be safe out there.”

Left alone to eat my meal of a Reuben and some fries I put all the pieces together. I made those things happen. Don’t fully know how, but when I spoke they listened to me and believed I was right. No no, they believed I wasn’t wrong. So I decided to try it out. When the server came back I smiled and said, “My meal is free.” And just like that, I got the response “You are not wrong, and no charge”.

So, now the fun began. I went to a nearby minimart and walked up to the cashier. There were two people in line behind me. I said to the cashier you want to give me the money in the register. And then I told the people behind me this was all supposed to happen. Everyone smiled and nodded and told me I was not wrong. After a few seconds, I realized it was truly small brain of me to take money when I could get anything I wanted. I went to a clothing shop and talked the employee there into giving me a nice leather jacket.

I began to observe that people would do two things when I spoke. They would follow any directions that I gave them and they believed I was never wrong.

I took the next step and went to my job. First, I made the office bully, Harold, stick his own head in the toilet. Then, I told him he really wants to strip down naked and streak through the office. Everyone was stunned and gasping. You could see every set of eyes peeking over the cubicle walls. The boss came out yelling at Harold. I looked at the boss and said you should fire that man. “You are not wrong! Harold, you’re fired.” Harold ceased his streaking and stood in the center of the cubicle labyrinth looking at his peers. “Please don’t fire me!” Harold begged. I decide to stick the dagger in. “When pigs fly, Harold.”

I turn my attention to the boss. I told the boss he wanted to see me, so we had a meeting and when it was done I was the captain now. The boss retired and gave the reigns over to me during an impromptu office meeting. I reassured everyone that this was alright and the status quo was good to go. I was on top of the world. I was finally credible and smart. I was right not just occasionally, but all of the time. Everything was great until it wasn’t.

I heard the screaming and crying. I came out of my new office and saw everyone standing over shattered glass. One of the windows was busted out some of the office was peering out the broken window.

“What happened?” I asked.

“He started oinking and he tossed himself through the window.” Looking down below I could see the naked and broken body of Harold resting in a crumpled red heap on the pavement.

Stunned, I started to remember the bus driver and now Harold is also dead. My new gift was coming with a body count. I feel not so great as I realize that now I am responsible for two deaths. I neglected the responsibility of giving directions and focused only on the benefits. I am stupid, but I don’t condone killing. Yeah, I embarrassed Harold, but I didn’t want him to off himself even if sometimes he pushed me that far.

I leave the office and try to go somewhere to think. I encounter someone trying to sell me some watches or something I tell him no and he gets mad and calls me an asshole. Without thinking I tell him to go fuck himself. Before I realize the magnitude of what I just set in motion. I watch the man drop his pants and mount a fire hydrant the hard way. He lets out a horrific scream as the top of the hydrant penetrates his rectum. I see light streams of blood stain the yellow hydrant.

I don’t stick around to watch, but other people gather to see the sight. As I pass through the growing crowd, I can hear the murmurs of their collective whys and hows. Someone mumbles something about it being a performance artist. One person says something about how they understand what the artist is trying to say. None of them knew that he was told to do it so he did.

I make it to a candle-lit church and enter the solitude of a confessional. The priest in the next booth over greets me. I tell him everything. How now three people have been fucked by my gift. I ask him what I should do and he tells me he doesn’t know. I get mad and tell him he is supposed to know everything. In the darkened space of the screen between us there is silence. Then I hear the priest say I am not wrong. There it is. Another mind corrupted by this thing. No real answers to help me.

This thing that I didn’t ask for. This thing that was given to me. Then I think for a second. Yeah, that is right.

This thing that was given to me. The man. The cowboy hat. He could make it all go away. I need to find him. I walked the streets looking for him. Night fell and the lights illuminated most of the darkened corners. I looked for the man who wanted to give me something. I avoided saying anything to anyone that could result in carrying out my often-deadly commands. No one I talk to has any idea of what I am saying. Most of them turn on that creepy smile and tell me I am not wrong. I run into a man wearing a cowboy hat, but after an awkward exchange, I discover it is not him. But because I spoke before I looked, he now thinks he is.

This man follows me for several blocks proclaiming I am not wrong and I gave him something. Even when his body is mangled by two cars and a box truck he continues to limp along, nearly tripping over his dangling guts. His twisted hand is outstretched and aiming at me. This scene looks like something from any horror movie, but it’s more comedic, darkly comedic because it’s real life. Every now and then, as I march from block to block, I look back and can see his one-eyed and distorted face. When he speaks, blood runs down his already crimson jaw. Eventually, I lose him after a woman on a bike knocks him over and he can’t seem to rise to his feet again.

I make it to a dive bar that is just as dimly lit as the church from earlier. I sit at the counter and the bartender asks, “What do you want?” Me being me and exhausted from the whole ordeal I say, “Whatever you got.” You already know what was said at this point. The bartender, with a shit-eating grin on his face, begins to prepare every single drink that he can make. Even one that involves a torch lighter. During his rapid drink-making he spilled several drops of alcohol on the bar top. Some of the patrons were getting restless with the inattention to their empty glasses. The bartender looks up with his demented smile and accidentally points the torch at the countertop. I leave first.

With the bar burning in the background and sirens getting closer I don’t know what else to do. I feel those same feelings brought on by the constant insecurities of my own life. Now it is different. I am never wrong and other people are suffering. I am now suffering with this knowledge.

So…

I do the sensible thing and hold up a bank. The entire process is so annoying. I go in and spot the security guard chatting it up with a bank teller. I tell him to give me his gun and he does. I yell out that everyone is my hostage. Everyone politely agrees. I realize that no one is going to hit the panic alarm so I have to tell one of them to do it. I watch as the smiling teller presses the alarm for me.

And that brings us to now. What am I hoping to accomplish? I don’t know. I guess suicide by police? The easy thing would be to stand here and let them take the shot. Because I am a dumbass－if I speak, everyone in earshot will do exactly what I say. All I do at this point is hope for a quick end. My finger hovers over the trigger.

“Well partner, you ain’t looking so good.”

It’s the fucking cowboy. I turn around and sure enough there he is: black hat, brown duster, and glass eye. I lower the gun from my head and point it at him.

“Easy partner, that ain’t anything you want to do.”

“Make it stop.”

“Easy now.”

“Make it stop. Whatever you did, make it stop.”

“Now, hold on. You didn’t even have the confidence to tell directions before I gave it to you. Now you want to go back?”

“It’s fine. This right now is awful. I watched a man take a fire hydrant in his ass! I am out! Make it stop!”

The crowd of ‘hostages’ are still just standing there smiling. A couple of them murmur that I am not wrong. “Fuck off!” I shout to the crowd.

“Oh partner, those aren’t the right words.” The cowboy says with a disapproving grimace.

I will leave the details to your imagination. But yes, you are right. They all fucked each other like a kind of cult during the end times.

With the fucking in the backdrop happening, the cowboy explained a few things to me. He told me where he comes from and what he can do is so beyond my comprehension that my brain would just melt even hearing the most barebones of explanations. Then he said he’s taking away the power now. He told me he wanted to help me, but he could see now that maybe this was not what I needed all along. That what I actually needed was－

At that point, I felt something hit me in the shoulder and my upper arm was raging with pain. I hit the ground hard. Everyone is naked and now screaming for their lives. Makes sense that I am about to learn some deep truth about myself and I get shot. I would find out later the rooftop sniper was aiming for my head and he missed. Lucky me. So now, here I lay, strapped into this gurney in the back of a screaming ambulance talking to you. The world is a crazy place, am I right? I think I know what the cowboy was going to say. He was going to tell me it’s just a bad break is all.

Yeah, that’s it, I am just having a bad break is all. Life is unfair at times and we all just need a break. Am I right?

The EMT sitting near me doesn’t make eye contact as he fiddles with my IV. “No man, we are accountable for our actions, that’s how the world works.” I stare at the EMT and a smile forms across my face. He finally makes eye contact and I tell him, “You are not wrong.”