On Ne'er Do Well

For those of you interested in my up-and-coming novel, i wish to inform you that I have decided to discontinue my posting of the chapters on my blog. For now, I will mention that I am currently working on chapter 17, so, progress still continues. Let me also remind any of you interested in reading my novel more fully to keep their eyes out on the amazon market around mid-summer, for that is when i plan to have it complete and edited as an e-book. Also, i do plan to release a physical copy as well, that is, if I accumulate the funds to begin self-publication. Obviously, i can find ways to order individual copies for special request orders. We shall see. While i have not much more to say, i can also add that my book is at 90 pages in it's manuscript form, and continues to progress. Thank you, dear readers. I may post on occasion, but for now, i will focus on my novel.

Seventh Excerpt from Ne'er Do Well

Chapter Seven

            Steve was hiding in an alleyway located deep within the Downtown area. He was freezing and was beginning to grow restless. Thoughts flew through his head; “Is he still following me?” “Has he given up?” Steve was not in any condition to carry himself home. The feeling he dwelled upon was of a simple matter: It stemmed from a small seed of hopelessness, slowly, but carefully watered until it eventually grew into the large stalk we saw now. This stalk would continue to grow, now, because it had already been nursed to size, and once one had allowed a weed to grow, it would not stop easily. Perhaps Steve merely needed to ‘cut’ this stalk down… But, alas, it would take some time to dispose of this one, for it may have already spread its own seeds, or perhaps even had invited its pleasant friends of jealousy and hatred…

            Presently, I shall bring us back to the home of Kresh McCore…

“Wake up woman. I’m hungry.”

Kresh lifted his heavy, heaving body from the bed and stomped his way to the kitchen. He opened his Steven’s Brand refrigerator door and removed his usual breakfast beverage: Milk. He poured his favorite thick, white substance carelessly in to the glass, spilling drops needlessly across the table. He did not care. What reason was there for a simpleton such as himself to mind such a simple matter as making a mess? His stalk was fully grown and it was much more than a simple weed; it was a disastrously tall tree, with vicious thorns and was unable to grow leaves of its own, owing to the dark exterior it fashioned. His tree was the type you found in the yards of those haunted houses. Of course, his tree must have surely been the one that had planted many others of its kind, such as the one which plagued our good hero, Steve.

            And once again, our terrible, deeply under confident villain made his way off for another day of failure, and most surely, another day of success in the form of individual expression. What type of expression you may ask? The type he offered to his wife. The man was an artist, and he painted a most beautiful canvas, incomparable to many of the best artifacts still present in Ne’er Do Well today. While the portrait might have been frightening to some, it actually incorporated many of the desirable traits found in our world today, such as the stability offered from conformity, the pressure relieved from the oh-so-simple act of violence and abuse, and most surely we could not forget the godly title he was so blessed to be brandished with: Enforcer. Yes, Kresh was probably the closest to the title of God… Or at least He felt so. And so did his peers! Ah Kresh, we, the readers wish you the most of luck on your journey to self awakening and happiness!

“Oh, there goes my hero! He’s off to change the world again!” his wife valiantly thought as she slowly wiped a false tear from her eye.

Now, finally, I will quench that ever-so-tantalizing desire you’ve had to witness the actions of our brave, but sorrowfully indifferent hero. I bring us to him now!

“What point is there?!”

Driven to the ends of pointless indifference again…

“I see no use in this constant cat and mice game! I’m done! It’s time for action!”

Yes! It seems our hero has used his anger as a conduit for action! Let us take hold of our buttery snacks and let us clench our children closely in our arms, for Steve has taken action (For the first time in, well, almost ever)!

Steve knew that he needed to take action, and that he required a solution, so, he returned to headquarters. And, I say, if the logic is fine and all that, that at that time, Steve could’ve used a good book. And, he found just that when he arrived. A grand title, “The Forgotten History of Bloated Bovines by Mark Taylor”! In the third chapter he licked a tantalizing historic record of utter sizes over the course of the past thirty years, and came across a CD titled “Recording, 320 KB/s, Compact Disk, ‘The Mating Sounds of a Distressed, Enlarged Bovine’”

Eyes widened, he quickened his pace as he made his way to the nearby audio listening lounge. He sat, and inserted the divine disc into its proper place. As it spun, he heard the blessed sounds travel softly through his eardrums, and as the noises grew louder, his eyes grew in proportion; finally the noise climaxed and softly lowered to a sweet timely finish. At this exact moment, Steve had experienced a divine, irreplaceable gift that perhaps none of the occupants of this building could have received.

“Oh, I see. You get a kick from cow porn, huh?”

Wait. Steve recognized that voice. But how? How did she get here?

Steve inched his head slowly around the bend until he caught sight of the beautiful wench he knew from the library.

“Why, hello there! How did you get here?”

The new librarian laughed.

“I work here now. You’ve inspired me. Now, I’m going to be shuffling books with the gods!”

“Ha! Just because we are trying to change the world doesn’t make us gods.”

“Either way, I have to return to the front desk. Goodbye, Steve.”

She was doing it again; playing with that damn toy.

“Phew.” Steve was relieved.

“Wow. I never would have thought YOU would be one of the ones who took an active interest in bovine sexuality. Heh, I guess each his own, I suppose.”

“Aw come on, you know I found it by accident.”

“No, you didn’t Steve. I’ve read it. It’s the picture book with the fat cows… and those... enlarged utters.”

“It’s not what you think! I grabbed the book by chance! You know, figured I’d play the chance card today!”

“You and I both know that you only read books that interest you.”

“Ah, well, fine Jerry.”

“So, I hear you had a run-in with Kresh. Quite a brute he is, huh?

“You’re tellin’ me. The guy just as surely would have ripped my face off. Did you see what he did to that car? He’s a maniac.”

“No. He’s just plagued with a disease I call ‘Enforcers Syndrome’. Quite common really.”

“Well this ‘Enforcers Syndrome’ is deadly.”

“Yes, yes. It is.”

Jerry led Steve to the camera room, where he once more caught sight of the various cameras spread about Ne’er Do Well. Contrary to what may have originally been assumed by some of my many diverse readers, the cameras belonged to the Headmaster. They had hacked them and now used them for their own purposes.

“So here we have Kresh, and as you can see, he is at your house.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait. Wait a minute! There’s a camera in my house?!”

“Six actually. One in the kitchen, one in the bedroom, one in the living room, one in the yard, one in the shower, and one in the toilet.”

“Why the toilet?”

“Not sure. We think he puts it there to monitor the health of the citizens.”

“Creepy.”

“Yep.”

“So, anyways, what we’re going to have to do is head back to get a few things.”

“Why? I don’t need anything.”

“The tracker. I think it’s still in a pair of your pants.”

“Should we wait for him to leave?”

“No. Kresh will be there all night. Look. He even brought his battering ram.”

“You mean his wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Ahh. I was wondering how he got in to my room. Had that thing locked up real good.”

           

            And so our bold heroes prepared for battle. But could they defeat the giant enforcer Kresh McCore?

A sixth excerpt from Ne'er Do Well

Chapter Six

            He ran. He ran until he had finally arrived. Home. He put his corroded copper key into the deadbolt lock, turned the knob, and entered. A thick, strong smell filled his nostrils. Mold. His living room was cluttered with a thin layer of clothing, magazines, and trash. Had someone been there before him? No, his house was always a mess. Indeed, Steve was in deep need of a visit to the land of solitude, the impenetrable world, the world where none of the struggles of the universe could seep in. Steve went to his bedroom.

            He laid himself down, taking in the light blue, flaky walls, the sun’s golden sheath, and the incomparably gorgeous clothing closet. To him, it did not matter where, as long as silence permeated the air. Not surprisingly, he was thinking about an interesting theory. He dreamt of a simple world, where all moved at their own will, and all dreams were reached. Alas, for Steve this world was unattainable. Even for people like you and I, the truth of this philosophy is painful to endure…

            And as Steve sat in his comfortable bed, the mysterious, smiling man searched. Presently, I will take us to him.

“In only a moment… Just a moment…” He grinned

His steps were steady yet quick, like the speed of the workers in Ne’er Do Well. With each step, his smile grew larger, and he knew. He knew exactly what he was searching for and he was well aware of its location. He came upon Steve’s street, a rundown trailer park, complete with your average every day rusted vehicle. The man was stunningly strong, his fists pounding into a nearby rusty car; his strong, grey eyes displaying his commitment to his cause. His pace quickened, only one trailer away. As he finally reached Steve’s yard, he took at breath through his nose, as if he could smell his target. He knocked.

“Come on out, Steve.”

No response.

“Damn it, Steve. You know I like games, but you and I have been playing this game for much too long.”

His arm tensed. He grabbed the door by its sides and tore. The living room was exposed.

“Please pardon my rudeness.”

His manners were still programmed to work even in these kind of situations. He made his way to Steve’s room, aiming for the kill. He bashed open the door. And found…

Nothing.

“NOTHING?!”

            Steve was gasping for air. Despite his readings which suggested healthy food and exercise daily, he ignored them; the effect was felt. He was almost there. The secret entrance. But, how would he be sure the man wouldn’t follow him? No, he was sure the security doors would stop him. Or, would they? The man had torn off Steve’s door. These steel panels were most surely not going to stop him. Steve came to the crossroads; should he worry for himself and enter the headquarters or should he worry for the welfare of the association’s members? He chose the former. He ran further, past the hidden entrance…

            I bring us back to our villain, Kresh McCore, entering his home. An apartment located in deep downtown Ne’er Do Well; beautifully kept, by his one and only dear wife: Isabell McCore.

“Home again.”

“Welcome home, dearest.”

Isabell’s arms were covered in scratches, both old and new, a face emblazoned with romantic red scabs and sunset-purple bruises. Her explanation to her coworkers? A fall down the stairs here, an accident while cooking there, or perhaps a fall from the bed. They were simple accidents, which were in fact, experienced by many women in Ne’er Do Well. So, the explanation was acceptable.

“Honey, do you see this?”

“Umm, yes, dear, I do. It’s the floor.”

“Don’t get smart.”

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled, until allowing her small, young head to plummet towards the ground. The impact was felt, and rose tainted petals fell from her nose.

“Look at the mess you made. Heh… You thought you were finished. My darling, you have to do much better than that.”

And as she coughed lovely, rosy petals once more, she exhaled

“Yes.”

            He was finished. Justice had been served. Karma has a funny way of working, he must’ve thought. Near the bedroom door sat a precious, golden retriever; man’s best friend. Kresh McCore respected his dog almost as much as he respected his wife. Because of this, he expressed his love with several ‘check-ups’; A simple examination to confirm existence. A simple thrust of the foot, with a brown leather boot for extra special accuracy and an assured response. A loud cry of confirmed life filled the house instantly. He was satisfied, his wife had been ‘gently’ reminded of her mess-ups and his dog had shown his master that his was still filled with everlasting vitality. It had to be; else he would not have been alive for 8 years thus far. Kresh’s last dog lasted only a few days… ‘Lacked vitality’, he would exclaim.

            It was off to bed, with yet another day of failure. He was feeling much better now that he knew his fellow housemates were there alongside him. His wife in bed; His dog at his feet. He was ready to close his eyes to a day unrealized. He would be ready to open his eyes again in the morning. Another day another dream, he always thought.

Fifth Excerpt from Ne'er Do Well

Chapter Five

            “Would you like to see the control room?”

Steve was pleased.

“Yes, I would.”

“This way, then.”

Jerry and the unknown man led Steve through multiple expansive doorways and passages until they halted in the presence of a control panel, which was much larger than any Steve had seen before. The man placed both hands on the panel and muttered an undecipherable pass-phrase. After several rather loud, high pitched noises, a nearby chrome door opened upwards. Behind it sat several indistinguishable screens, panels, and buttons. A note on the furthest wall read ‘Authorized Personnel Only’. Several books of diverse colors and sizes were spread across the floor. Seated behind one of the screens was a dark-haired man, who wore a bright white lab coat.

“This way, boss!”

“How’s progress?”

The man showed the boss the screen which displayed a group of people, in town square, huddled around a scene of some sort. The association had installed security cameras in various locations around Ne’er Do Well, as to be expected.

“Then, they haven’t arrived yet, I presume?”

“No, but it is only a matter of time until they do. I suggest we take action. Now.”

“Mhhm. Are all of the men in place?”

“Almost. One appears to have gone missing.”

“Missing?! You’re joking…… Then we will carry on with the plan without him. Grab him and take him here.”

“Yes.”

It was then that the black-haired man grabbed a receiver connected to the screen and spoke

“Go. Now.”

“You’ve seen enough, Steve. Come along.”

            The boss led Steve through yet another door. The room reminded Steve of the elegantly quiet break rooms at his previous workplace. His old break room was merely quiet because Steve was the only employee who took breaks at Mr. Smith’s. He took a deep breath and relaxed in the lovely atmosphere.  The room itself had green lounge chairs, dispensing machines, and a dry, white wall.

“Please sit.”

Steve and Jerry chose seats and relaxed.

“Now, Steve. Jerry is, as you know, a Squad Leader. He will be the one you follow. For now, you can leave if you wish. I have shown you all that you need to see.”

“But, you have not even told me what this room is.”

The Boss raised his brow

“You can’t tell? This is the break room.”

“Oh, right”

Jerry laughed.

“My, YOU are perceptive.”

“Quiet. I’m leaving now”

Steve left the rooms, making his way back down the elegant hallway, ignoring the loud pool-players, and once again admiring the focused readers. He regained his focus; his destination was the Library.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while. Welcome back.”
“Glad to be back.”

Silence.

“By the way, are there any new arrivals?”

“Nope.”

There never were.

“Shame.”

Steve made his way to the west wing of the library: Science and Mathematics, the area Steve most seldom visited. Science and Math were challenging subjects for Steve and were the reason behind many of his school lashings. It was not as if he could not logically understand the world, rather he did not possess the patience to comprehend complicated equations and graphs. Yes, perhaps Steve was a little slow, by Ne’er Do Wellian standards. But on the rare occasion that he did challenge himself with the west-wingers, he found himself moving in different directions. This was probably because the topics stimulated a whole new area of his mind, or perhaps he had grown too bored with business tips and happiness guides. But, either way, Steve found himself thinking more clearly, and even more so, he found himself logically thinking through point A to point B situations. His book? Calculus: A New Perspective. This book in particular had a bright orange cover, perhaps to draw attention to it, and had beautifully drawn childlike pictures. Steve grabbed his new book and sat at a nearby table, blew off the dust, and ‘lightly’ escorted the other books from the table. BAM! Steve was the gentlest man in all of Ne’er Do Well.

Presently, off near the entrance to the library, arrived a man, not much unlike a typical Ne’er Do Wellian, with empty dark grey eyes, flawless white skin, and a black suit.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“Why, yes… You can. I’m looking for a man named Steve.”

“He’s in the west wing.”

“Thank you.”

The man walked past the self help section, past a couple tables, pushing books off of their little seats. And, as he noticed the young man seated happily in his seat, he smiled.

“Hello, Steve.”

The man sat, moving uncomfortably close to Steve. Steve looked up, fearless.

“Yes?”

Steve knew those eyes. He knew how they worked. They were a tactic, an attempt to force guilt, then remorse, until finally causing the victim to conform. Steve looked deep into them, watching the eyes readjust. Steve was not afraid.

“I’m here to eliminate you.”

His voice chimed an eerie noise, devoid of emotion. Within only moments, the man reached in to his pocket and reached for the one thing Steve may have actually feared: A gun. The man aimed. Pulled the trigger, and just then, Steve hit the hand of his enemy, displacing the bullet. BAM! Within moments Steve was running. He broke through the nearby window. He was headed for the hospital.

“Please, can you help me? Gunshot wound. My arm.”

“Name?”

“Please, I need help NOW!”

She spoke louder

“Name?”

 “Ahh, please.”

“I can’t help you without a name.”

“Steve.”

“Social Security Number?”

“Really?”

Louder

“Social Security Number?”

His mumblings were robotic

 “871-758-8490-1903”

 “Date of birth.”

“11/14/40”

“Ok, here you are.”

 “What?”

“Fill that out and we will be right with you.”

            Steve carried himself in to the waiting room, filled with chairs, magazines and televisions, all useless in distracting him from the pain in his arm. He waited….. Waited some more…. And again… Until, darkness….

            Steve awoke to find himself placed in a hospital bed; his body was complete with a strange machine and cheap, disposable clothing. He had the complete package, or so he thought.

“Hello Steve. Do you have medical insurance?”

“What? No. Is the bullet out?”

“Of course not. We just attached a device to your body to ensure that you have enough blood.”

Steve checked his arm. Still bleeding.

“It’s still bleeding.”

“Yes. But the machine puts enough blood in to make up for the lost blood.”

The nurse smiled… An ignorant smile.

“I see…. Could I see the doctor first?”

“No. We need to ask you some questions.”

“I know you must be new here or something, but actually, I am in deep pain, and despite what you think, I’m still losing blood. I NEED to see the doctor.”

“Excuse me? I AM a senior nurse and you WILL cooperate or I can just as well refuse you service. You’re not in THAT much pain.”

“I was waiting in there forever. Could you not have given me faster service?”

“Forever, huh? Let me check…”

“30 minutes. Forever, huh?”

Her sarcastic tone was beginning to irritate him.

“Actually, yes, when I’m bleeding, it is.”

“Please cooperate, Steve. We are only trying to help. You just have to help us.”

“Help you what? Make sure I can pay the hospital fees?”

“Well of course, Steve. We all have to make money somehow.”

“I’m done.”

“What are you doing? Stop!”

“So that’s what happened, huh?” said Jerry

 “Who knew I would rely on a hospital instead of you guys. That was my mistake.”

“Yeah. Don’t go back there. Bad place.”

“Hmmph. I can tell.”

“I actually had an experience there when I was young…”

“Oh? Was it as terrifying as mine?” inquired Steve

“Perhaps not, but despair-invoking nonetheless. It was a time when my grandmother was very sick. She was sick with a disease called Scanderitis. I’m sure you’ve read medical books, right?”

“Uh… not many.”

“Oh well, it’s deadly. Very deadly, actually. And, it would be only another day until she was ready to leave the hospital. I was happy. I would be able to see Grandma again, ya know? But, you’ll probably be able to guess what happened next. As it turns out Grandma was too poor to afford the next hospital bill. My family was helping out, I was working an extra job; we all helped out. But even we weren’t enough. Grandma didn’t have a chance. They threw her out. Just like that, Steve. Like a piece of trash. Didn’t even tell us she was outside on the sidewalk in front of the hospital. When I went to visit her the next day, I saw her lying outside. You know, I guess they forgot to clean her up after she died 8 hours ago. I was heartbroken… and furious. I stormed into the place; I was brewing a storm bigger than anything you have ever seen. What I didn’t know was that they had dealt with people like me before. They knew what they would do. I walked up and said ‘Hey! Why the fuck is my grandma lying dead outside?!” They had built and prepared a system, a pre established wall of indifference to push away my kind. ‘Name?’ That’s all they said. I kept asking. The only response? ‘Name?’, ‘Name?’, ‘NAME?’! I wasn’t finished. I stormed my way past the front desk and demanded to speak to the doctor or someone who was in charge. I demanded respect. They all treated me the same. ‘Oh? Yes, we can help you. Just give us your name first.’ Their robotic smiles were atrocious, but I was desperate. I gave in. ‘Jerry’. After many hours of questions I was given my answer. ‘I’m sorry. We can’t help you. Why don’t you come back tomorrow? I’m sure we can help you then.’ My body, my face, my mind was so hopelessly angry that I was driven over the edge. I was not the only sane one there anymore. I had given in to indifference as well. When I did that Steve, I was no different than them. I began to take out my careless rage on my family and friends. That was when Ne’er Do Well began to change, as anger only caused indifference, which drove people to hopelessness when they achieved no growth, no answers.

One day, I quit. I quit everything, my job, my marriage, my mortgage…. Everything. And, in the lonely reaches of poverty, I met the Boss. He had a dream. And he’s leading that very dream today….”