FanStory.com - For Good, We Went Badby Bryce 1

Just pick up the pieces and go home. You're time here has come to an end.

That's what they said to me before they kicked me out of the club. A club that I created mind you! I started that club with the 10 dollars for snacks I had and my friend Pedro. We accrued ten more people in what was it? A week I think?! It was awesome! There was nothing we couldn't do. That's what it feels like when you're part of a group of people. As the group gets bigger and the bond grows stronger, you feel like the world is yours. All morals of the old world seem to wither away in the light of this new grand happening. I felt like I had arrived and thanks to me, the feeling was mutual between what would end up being thousands of others! They should have been on their hands and knees in praise of me instead of throwing me out! But in the end, I suppose I should be thanking my lucky stars for their not doing anything more than that.

Soon afterwards, I planned my revenge. Granted, it was a foolish idea and in the long run was only a way for my ego to gain back some of its integrity. But something happened to the club before I had a chance to really do anything, something that totally threw me for a ride. I weaped when I heard the news. I simply could not believe that a club I had created, one that I fed with love and discipline and guidance, could have done such a heinous thing. I'm sure you've heard the news by now, it's been a running story for almost a month and still gaining steam. They called it "The Day of Death". Great name I know, doesn't really leave a whole lot for the imagination. It does get straight to the point though and that's what I will try to do as I recall it all for you.

As I said before, I started the club with ten bucks and my friend Pedro. We had been friends for years, since early childhood. Down the line, through college and well into adulthood we had finally figured that the world was run by fools. Everywhere we looked, we saw the tyranny that has entrenched itself into the everyday life of every man, woman and child. We saw that somehow, someway we had been duped by someone, perhaps even many someones who decided to take all for them and leave the scraps for the rest. We easily assumed that we fell under the category of "the rest". Without much money to our names and with a growing sense of time, we decided one day to start our own club. It started as a joke really, we just thought it'd be fun to do. Maybe we could help people out with stuff. It was just such a broad idea that it left the future open to any and all possibilities. What were we doing anyway with our time other than paying bills and watching football? I'll tell you, not much.

We did it the old fashioned way, flyers with numbers attatched. We attatched these flyers to many poles and even some walls. To our great surprise, we had calls come in before we even got back to the house. Almost everyone called with the same question, "What is this club all about?". We told them all the same thing, "Just a club for people who are sick of what they see, bored enough to join a club and willing enough to help the fellow man in the distress that is modern living". I couldn't believe it when people jumped for that. Excitment grew amongst me and Pedro and we decieed to rent a place out for the first meeting. I'd like to point out that these proceedings did not happen overnight. In fact, I think it was about 3 or 4 months before we had that first meeting. Everyone works, everyone. We all had to take off work at the exact same time and meet for that scheduled time. It was kind of confusing how the word around employers did not circulate, so many different fields of work had people out on the same day. That might of been the only time that our presence went undetected. The first and last time.

Anyway, we all met up at like 7pm at a church me and Pedro rented out. A basket was passed for rent, that too was expensive. I think there was even a tax! That was a talking point during our first meeting: an actual tax on renting a place out, a private place! Looking back, I think we might of been duped by the preacher, I honestly couldn't say. We were organized from the very beggining though, a podium was put in place and people respected the time for whoever was behind it. There was hardly any crosstalk when someone shared up there and clapping occured entirely without a prompt to do so. I guess, when people speak their mind, for what feels like the first time, peeple just naturally turn to clapping afterwards, maybe that's an evolutionary trait. Anyway, it was about two hours before we had all gone up to say our peace on the goings of the world and their lives inside the machine. We all shared the same feelings: disgust, sadness, and a longing for return to somewhere good, if that ever really existed. Around 40 people in all. Their was mutual respect in the room, instant commradery and of course, snacks for the enjoyment of the crew. Bring food and the people will revere you for it. That night ended with them asking me relentlessly, when and where we will meet again. Me and Pedro looked at eachother as if we had uncovered some anchient secret that was buried somewhere deep. Arriving home and in the quiet solitude of our home, we chatted till the break of day about what we should do next.

For the sake of time, I am going to fast forward through a lot of this. If I were to go into more detail, then I might as well just write a book about it all. I guess I probably will do that, It'd bring some cash my way I'm sure. So, here it is. Our numbers grew from 40 to 400 to 4,000 to 40,000 and more. Our mission had been honed in over the three years I was part of it all. We aimed to help the fellow man out from under the weight of greed and poverty that the man on the hill so to speak has plaugued upon us. Needless to say, the ideals of the movement went from innocent to gravely skewed. It happens every single time: Someone wants to do good for the world, he assembles people who feel the same, numbers grow in size, a sense of power is felt, it goes to their heads, they assume the outsiders deserve death for not thinking the same as them. All through history, down through every age, this phenomenon seems to occur. History is pretty forgetful I guess. I never thought I'd be the one to enact history in such a dramatic way, but I did. it's now one of my biggest regrets. Realizing this, I spoke to Pedro about making a drastic change to our club, which was at that point more accurately a cult. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same, I assumed that his mind was now under the illusion that our club was still as innocent and good meaning as it ever was. I'd never call him a fool for that, but I would say that his beliefs become more important than facts, which, as history shows, is a straight shot towards lunacy. God, every time, every fucking time. What a merry go round this life is. When you look from way out, way, way out so you can see the big picture, you'll see that the human experience is built upon patterns, in every way.

I did my best to divert the rising schemes of the cult, then known as "Rising Change", an ominous name if you ask me, I never liked it. The things I heard that were in the works scared me to my core. I heard someone was stealing mailboxes all across town. For what purpose? I never did find out. I heard a group of them were going to storm the capitol, we all saw how that transpired. I heard that one guy in particular was going undercover to infiltrate the top heads of what we called "the enemy". He might still be lurking in their shadows to this day, I have no idea. It gives me a laugh when I think about it, some idiot acting like he is supposed to be in a room full of billionare baldys. It's honestly hilarious. Come to think of it, I really doubt the dude made any headway at all, that is of course if he never shaved his head. You've got to be bald or nearly balding to be in that club. Oh anyway, the story, ok.

I went up to the podium during one of our mass hearings. I felt like the most evil guy around. I felt like I had rallied up a group of lunatics and they saw me as their leader. Well, I guess my feelings were pretty on point because that's exactly what happened! Lunatic psychos bent on destruction were awaiting my every word. Up to that point, I had provided them the courage to speak their mind and empower their wills, and it backfired so badly. It might be true that when people group up, nothing good can happen. Maybe we're all lunatics deep down, just waiting for the right time to let loose. I think that's who we are, on a primal level. But there is a light to be followed passed the primal and primitive and into the wisdom that can help soothe the tensions of consciousness itself, but I digress. I did my best to guide them back to the light.

I told them, in so many words, that we had lost our way and it was time to revert back to ideals more in tune with love and peace. I told them that the feelings I have about our little group scare me. That we have gone from gentle helpers to militant minded solidiers. They did not seem receptive. Murmers grew to yells grew to an all out frenzy. The only thing I had done was show the rabid dog that he has no master. I snapped the thin line that held the wavering piano from crashing down upon their own heads. The boiler room had finally erupted, and the house was blown to smitherines. After the fallout, they kicked me out. A few days later, the Day of Death ocuured. Jesus Christ, what a mess.

It was pretty much an implosion. They killed Pedro right off the bat. They assumed that because he was my very good friend, he secretly thought the same as I, so they killed him, without remorse or any after thought. Then they killed the next guy who thought they believed what Pedro believed. Then the next guy, and the next and the next until every single one of them had become the Enemy. It was a bloodbath that reminded us of Gettysburg. There was no stopping any of it and most people on the outisde felt relief at the news. There were no survivors.

I started a club to help people in need and the club itself imploded with a mix of self righteousness and anger. The fire that fueled their demise was first lit by me. I guess, I am the only survivor. I'm writing this letter from jail as I imagine I'll be in here for a little longer. I never meant any harm, I really didn't. I was just bored, we were bored, I don't think anyone meant for it to go that far. Momentum is a scary thing sometimes. It's not always headed towards the stars.