Life had always been comfortable.
I've never had to struggle for much. I was raised in a nice home which is best described as somewhere between suburban and rural. It was great because we were far enough away from all the other people to not be bothered, but close enough that we could take just a five-minute drive to the store.
I had been raised to be considerate towards others, and I always second-guessed everything. But I'd say my parents did a good job raising me really. My parents weren't exactly together by any means. In fact, they had never married. But they both made sure that they put me first, while also maintaining their livelihoods.
My mother had instilled the moral in me that if you say you're going to do something, then you better at least give the effort to do so. In other words, don't break your promises.
My father had instilled in me to stick with your morals, or rather always try to do what's right. And I know it can sound vague, but it really helped me. I learned to get along with my half-siblings, which were all his by the way. I was able to discipline myself not to try alcohol or drugs because I knew that at the very least I was too young for them. I realized what was important to me, and to always protect my family first. It was all because of him.
And growing up, I fell in love with a show called "It's Bad with Chad". It was a late-night style comedy show on the internet. It started out with a radio show and podcast, and grew into Chad uploading videos, for eventually millions to watch. He would discuss politics and the news in a very comedic way, but not in anyway like the other guys. He wasn't afraid to offend people.
And I was in love with the whole idea of it.
I agreed with most of the things he would say, although, of course not everything. But I was without a doubt hooked. This man took everything that was mainstream, and flipped it on its head.
Needless to say, I was a fan. So, growing up alongside all of this, I had become slightly more politically inclined. I won't say what camp I was, and still am, a part of, because it's not at all important. But I also started to become interested in writing. Whether it was scripts or short stories. I loved it all.
So over the course of maybe 10-15 years, I became a very talented writer, if I do say so myself.
And so my story starts off with something like this...
"Wha' do ya mean 'so what I voted for him'! The man is obviously a racist and a bigot!" yelled my not-so-friendly coworker.
"There's no proof he actually is. The news always tries to misrepresent everything he says. And I've learned enough to know not to trust everything I hear."
"I can't believe this. I work with a racist. And none other than one of the writers here. You know what? You did this to yourself."
Before I could respond, he picked up the entire script I had been working on for days, which I had planned on going over with the others that very day, and ran it through the shredder.
I was so furious, I could tell I was turning red. And then the joker said this, "Serves you right. You oughtta think about that next time you vote for a racist."
I couldn't take it anymore. As he stood there smirking to himself, he turned around to one of the other worker's desks, and started to say something else. I couldn't hear what it was, but I didn't care.
I grabbed my water bottle. I got up from my rolling chair. I looked around at all the other desks and outside the building to the other skyscrapers beside us.
I looked at him. He was wearing a pink buttoned up shirt, obviously with an undershirt beneath, and khaki pants.
"Hey Billy!" I yelled.
He turned around as I ran up to him really quickly and grabbed his shirt, untucked it, yanked it so it was unbuttoned, then pulled on his waistband and poured the water from my bottle all over him. I then aimed it into his pants, then dropped the bottle down in so he would have to struggle to get it out.
I did all this very quickly, and hurried back to my desk as I watched the jerk panic from all the cold water running down his legs.
After he reached and got the bottle out, and recovered from the initial shock and cold of it all, he turned his attention toward me.
He looked at me furiously. And then he did something I didn't think would happen. He got me fired.
He ran at me and tackled me to ground, punching my face and cussing me out.
In self-defense, I grabbed one of his shoulders, and rolled us over to the other side of the room with his back against the wall. I punched him in the face, knocking his head against the wall, and bloodying his nose. Then I kneed his crotch as I got enough distance to really get some good punches in. He was all mine up until one of the security officers and a coworker mine pulled me off of him.
- 20 minutes later -
I wound up sitting outside the boss' office, waiting for him to finish up with Bill.
He came out glaring at me with a slight smirk on his smug face. It was obvious to me at the time that he must've gotten off lightly.
Then I was called in.
I walked into the office. What I saw before me was a very messy and disorganized wooden desk. It looked like the boss didn't keep it very clean or orderly in her office.
But then I laid my eyes upon her. She was a decent-looking woman. But her glasses looked slightly crooked, along with her clothes looking a tad bit wrinkly. What had gone on in there?
"Hello Alex. We need to talk. Please sit," she said, as she attempted to adjust her glasses.
I took a seat in one of the chairs situated in front of her desk. She then sat down in her rolling chair which had been more near to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. She did her best to look like an orderly and authoritative boss behind her desk, but she also looked wildly uncomfortable.
Then she started her inevitable lecture as my boss. "Alex, you need to understand something. Here at Jimmy Co, we can't allow one of our lower-tier writers to behave in such violent and uncontrollable ways. We are a respectable business, running only the best of late-night shows. People love all of our shows, including 'Jimmy F Tonight' and 'Tonight with Jimmy K'. We have respect within the mainstream of things. If someone found out that one of our screenwriters was causing fights in our offices, that could be some very bad press. And it would make things exponentially worse for us if they found out you ended up voting for a racist. It would never stand. And we as a company would be dragged through the mud. So this brings me to the conclusion that we can't continue employing somebody who could potentially hurt the reputation of this company. Alex, I'm sorry, but you're fired. You have until tomorrow to gather your things, and never come back."
I just sat there for a minute, taking all I had heard in. "Fired?!" I found myself saying. "I didn't even start it. Is Bill at least getting fired too?"
"That's nothing you should concern yourself with. He and I worked out what he could do to stay here. And let me tell you, it took a lot for him to convince me," she said, while looking off towards the door.
"That's so gross. And basically what you're telling me is he gets to sleep his way back into the good graces of the company, even though he started the fight and had been harassing me. And I'm the one being fired because I happened to vote for the wrong guy AND I defended myself?! Ya know what? Screw it. I don't care anymore. Screw this place. I'm gone."
I got up, walked myself out the door, and slammed the door behind me.