Impossible Sense Out of Madness

IMPOSSIBLE SENSE OUT OF MADNESS

by Chasing Jokers Wild

The eTaxi app buzzed again. Ron didn’t know how to shut it off. It was 8 o’clock at night and he had been chasing call after call for days. ‘They’ seemed to be demanding he make certain sacrifices. On the TV was Trump. Trump was making demands, according to most people. Really, it was about the need to make tough choices, but The Elites of Fake News didn’t get what it was like to need to choose. They didn’t understand what it was like to be poor and eat hotdogs with Wonderbread.

Today it was a meme between veterans or immigrants. Ron chose veterans. He knew he made the right choice. He was going to ace this test. Ron was a gun owner himself and knew that Trump was right. There were too many people and the herd needed thinning. It is better it be ‘Them.’ They are not really people. The Liberal Elitists. They were like zombies. They had no original thought. The eTaxi app buzzed again. No time to lose. They needed him.

Ron rushed to his vehicle. He almost forgot his 9mm Beretta, but didn’t. He never knew who might try to kill him tonight. He kept it for personal protection. It was his second amendment right and Rush reminded him through AM radio of the importance for its preservation in case The Liberal Elitists successfully held on to power when Trump won. Ron was expecting a revolution. The AM radio had been preparing him for Obama making a hold to stay in power. Ron drove at a fast rate to the first pick up. Today was it. Nothing mattered. It didn’t matter when he picked up the fare. It didn’t matter when he swiped a car on the way to the drop off point. His phone was directing him through Pandora now. “I Can’t Drive 55,” was playing. A few moments later he heard, “I Have a Deal With the Devil,” as the eTaxi app ordered him to his next pick up. He hated how “They” were evil and held control over him. He needed to do what they said, or they would kill him. They made that pretty clear by playing “Ghetto Boys” earlier with the song “Mind of a Lunatic.” It was very menacing. On his way to pick up the next fare, Ron shot at some cars and screamed. They wanted him to scream. They wanted him to act like a lunatic. “I said die mutha’ fucka’s as I blasted…” rapped the Ghetto Boys as he shot at them. They weren’t people today. It was just how the day was going. He was going to be famous; beyond Internet famous. They wanted him to be a legend.

“Let me out of here!” screamed the passenger. Ron didn’t even remember picking him up. He was running on so god damn little sleep. Fuck this shit! He needed to remain calm.

“Just sit there and …hold …my …coffee,” Ron growled.

“What!?” screamed the passenger?

Oh shit. He had no soul. Ron could tell. Not all of them did. The passenger bailed out of the door as they were going around a corner. Ron laughed. It was funny. It was like a magic trick. He leaned over and pulled the passenger door closed. If he was going to pull off this second amendment stand, he was going to need to set up a base at a hotel to use between fares. Ron pulled up to the Holiday Hotels. What he saw freaked him the fuck out. All the cars were white. What the fuck! All the god damn white vehicles were white! What were the odds, but then again the Liberal Elitists always think they could have all the people they want. The damn Pacifists were taking over. It was just a reality. There were too many damn people. Fucking abortionists. The Liberal Elites couldn’t even have a consistent thought anyway, Ron laughed in thought. Ron got out of his car and went up to the first white vehicle in the parking lot. It was a van. It had a small person in it.

“Do you have a spare dollar to make America great again?” Ron asked.

“I don’t have a dollar to spend,” said the small person in the white van.

Ron shot the small person in the head. Teenagers are really just small people. All they did was Snap Chat anyway. It was gory. “The graphics of the shot were really good,” he thought to himself. He smiled and sparked up a Jay while walking back to his car. Today was going to be a good day indeed, Mr. Ice Cube. He continued on the shooting spree, killing 6 people that day and seriously wounding 8 more.

He never would completely come back mentally, because the criminal justice system didn’t want to waste the resources on someone who had committed such horrific acts of murder. His classmates from high school would be in shock that such a gentle soul would do what he did and he would even be frightened of himself and grateful he didn’t kill his children, as he came to terms with the fact that on that night, he easily could have. The community would never wrap itself around the combination of bipolar disorder, cannabis-induced psychosis, and other arrays of mental disorders wrong with this man. Their drug and alcohol use would increase, and their funding towards mental health services would decline based on the knowledge that much of the behavioral problems were self-induced through addiction. Many of those who had mental illnesses in the community would come to find themselves social pariahs, despite the underlying lack of psychopathic tendencies in most of them. And so goes the social psychology of a community in and out of madness, but never fully understanding itself or why it went through this event. In the end, it was meaningless. Humanity would fade, but the sadness of the collective unconscious hive mind would still matter to those affected in the moment. Six people would just be dead though. They would just be dead.