The Uncomfortablists
Neale Morison
2007-10-25 – 2007-12-07
Chapter 1
"Did you masturbate this morning?"
Ma is stirring a pot on the stove.
"Fuck, Ma!"
"I know you don't like to discuss it, honey."
"What do you want me to say?"
"It's not about what I want, Ben."
"It's none of your business."
"You know I'm going to keep asking."
She will, too. At least once a day. She doesn't even care about the
answer.
"We are not having this conversation."
"Well, try to remember tonight."
I say nothing. I hunch into my jacket and try to warm my hands in my
armpits.
Ma slops mush into bowls, puts one in front of me and sits down with
another. It looks like beige wallpaper paste.
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"What's this?"
"It was on sale."
I pick up my spoon.
"What do you say?"
"Thanks, Ma."
"Say it."
I sigh.
"For what we are about to receive, make us truly uncomfortable."
"Was that so hard?"
"It doesn't even make sense."
"It's not supposed to make sense."
I force down a few swallows and stand up.
"Gotta go."
"Weapons inspection."
I hand over my gun. It's a Colt .38 Detective Special. Series One,
snubbie. It used to be my Dad's. She flips open the cylinder, unloads,
squints down the barrel and the chambers, checks the ammunition and
reloads. She shakes her head.
"Five rounds?"
"Safer."
The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007 3
"Less firepower. And you're not even loading +Ps."
She hands it to me.
I put it back in my pack.
"Yes, you loved your father, so did I, but."
I shrug.
"He had an automatic he might be here today."
I have to get out of here.
"Are you going to be too warm in that?"
"It's freezing outside!"
"Take off your jacket."
I take it off and stuff it in my pack.
"Bye Ma."
I give her a kiss. She slaps me lightly on the cheek.
I run down the stairs. The cold hits me like a fist. I turn the
corner, haul out my jacket and put it on, gasping in the icy air.
* * *
The low, leaden sky amplifies the traffic noises. They grate in my
skull. I have to run for the bus, and the bus driver pulls out just as
I reach it. Then he squeals the brakes so loud my teeth hurt and lets
me on. He's grinning and I can't help grinning back.
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"Thanks, man."
"Shut the fuck up."
He definitely made me run on purpose. All part of being uncomfortable.
I head for the back.
There's a girl on the back seat, at the end of the aisle. I've seen
her before in the cafeteria. She sees me looking and looks straight
back. Then the bus lurches off. I stumble, fall forward and end up on
my knees, face in her crotch. I scramble up.
"Use your head!" she says brightly, with this vacant Barbie face. I
don't know what to say, but then she gives a low chuckle.
She moves over and I sit down.
It wasn't exactly an original line. Half the ads in the bus say "Use
Your Head!". The other half say "Give Yourself a Hand!". They're
really graphic, but it doesn't make you feel horny. Not me, anyhow.
Roy says it works for him, but he's a walking hard-on. The government
claims it reduces unwanted births. How they figure that out I do not
know.
She sees me looking at the ads.
"I'd say they suck, but that's the whole idea."
I try to come up with a good reply.
"They're everywhere."
"They're giving porn a bad name."
The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007 5
Her eyes are brown with dark green flecks. There's a little gap
between her front teeth.
"That's just what I was thinking."
"May."
"Oh, yeah, I'm Ben. Ebenezer, really. You may as well know the worst."
"Yeah. Mayberry. Just plain idiotic. We're not supposed to like our
names."
"There's this guy I know, he acts tough but his real name's
Fauntleroy."
"Maybe he deserves it. But his parents didn't know that when they
named him, did they? Why do they do it?"
"Oh, my Ma buys into the whole thing. Like "Give yourself a hand". She
keeps asking me, you know..."
"Don't you hate that? It's just none of their fucking business."
"That's what I tell her, I say, Ma, it is absolutely none of your
fucking business, but she's like 'It's for your own good, honey'".
"Grrr."
She clenches her fist and looks fiercely out the window. Her fingers
are thin and there are freckles on the back of her hand. I can see a
blue-green vein below the surface.
"Something bad out there? Delivery trucks? Fast food franchises? Maple
trees?"
6 The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007
I seem to have locked into some stupid jolly mode.
She gives me a puzzled look, then glances at her fist. The knuckles
are white.
"Just something I was thinking."
She opens her hand and puts it on her knee. For a while we ride in
silence.
It's like a staring contest in reverse. I crack first.
"Thanks, by the way."
"For what?"
"For being ok about me falling on you."
"It was an accident. Wasn't it?"
"But, you could have acted embarrassed, or mad. Or weird."
"I wasn't weird?"
"Well, maybe a little."
"Just comes natural. You're pretty weird yourself."
"You're too kind."
"Not at all."
"Thank you so much."
"Shut the fuck up."
The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007 7
* * *
There was the usual traffic jam around the lockers.
"Hey, Ben, did you finish the assignment?"
It was Ted from my homeroom. Full name Asafoetida. He never gets
assignments done on time, and he gets himself in this anxious state
about it. All the time and energy he spends panicking he might as well
do the assignment.
"Sure. You?"
I know the answer anyway, but while he's clenching his trembling lips
together and building up to admitting he hasn't, I think I see Roy at
the other end of the corridor. He has his camouflage pants on and a
big coat and he's carrying a sports bag.
"Roy," I yell. He turns. His eyes are dark underneath, as if he's
smeared paint on his face. He doesn't even nod. Maybe he hasn't seen
me. He turns and goes around the corner in the direction of the gym.
"That guy is a dick," blurts Ted.
I look at Ted for a second, deciding there's not much point in
discussing Roy with him.
"He's OK," I say.
* * *
The class stands and faces the flag and we move our lips while the old
P.A. distorts the pledge:
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"Party's over, that’s enough,
Do it now and do it rough.
Look behind you. Lock and load.
Zero parking. Clear the road.
Pain is gain and gain is pain,
Learn to like it, don’t complain,
Use your hand and use your head.
Do it right or do it dead.
Death to spammers."
Beamish says it loudly in his high, cutting voice, making every word a
threat, and his little black eyes dart around, looking for students
who weren't suitably awestruck by the emotional power of the occasion.
The trick is to do it completely deadpan. If you crack a smile he'll
haul you out and give you a week's detention. You can't even roll your
eyes. We get it over with and Beamish says "Be seated".
Then he calls the roll. He does it in this accusing, sneering tone, as
if our names are our fault, and he lingers on each syllable trying to
extract the maximum annoyance. When he calls out "Fauntleroy
Nebuchadnezzar Kelly" no one answers. I look around. Sure enough no
Roy.
The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007 9
"Has anybody seen Fauntleroy?" Beamish asks. I don't say anything and
I give Ted a look. He looks at me and clenches his lips and keeps
quiet.
"Absent," says Beamish with great satisfaction and makes sure he
records it immediately on his laptop so it will go straight into the
database for all eternity. Roy is going to get himself expelled if he
doesn't start coming to class. He's missing at least one day a week.
It's not really his fault. Ma can be irritating but she does care
whether I go to school. Roy's Dad is really strict but only when he
comes home, which is not often. They have this really messy apartment
with a sink full of plates and falling over piles of magazines
everywhere. Roy is pretty much looking after himself and he can't get
organized.
Then the door bangs open so hard it slams against the wall and
everybody jumps.
The guy in the doorway is in full ballistic gear. He's wearing a riot
helmet, with a tinted visor so you can't see his face, full vest and
groin protector. He's carrying a Swock in each hand and he has an M4
slung across his back. He's got a belt hung with equipment and
ammunition belts criss-crossing his chest. He looks like a fucking
battle robot. He walks into the room.
Beamish hauls out his pride and joy from under his desk. It's a
Barrett M82A1. The fucking thing will blow a hole through armor plate
a mile away. It makes no sense whatsoever to have it in the classroom
for close combat, but Beamish thinks it makes him a big man. I doubt
10 The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007
he can really even hold it up. The truth is nothing in the universe
could make Beamish a big man.
The gunman simply walks between Beamish and the students. If Beamish
fires the 50mm high velocity bullet will go straight through the
gunman and kill any of us in its path and probably through two more
classrooms, out of the school and into the shopping mall next door.
Check-fucking-mate. Beamish gets this dimwitted confused look on his
face. He obviously doesn't have the faintest idea what do to next.
We all have to get down to give Beamish his shot. Which he probably
hasn't got the guts to take. I look around fast in the hope the others
will catch on and then duck under the desk. I can't see if anybody
else has ducked. My bag is there. I reach in and take out the snubbie,
as quickly and quietly as I can. With any luck the gunman is covering
Beamish and hasn't noticed. From under the desk I can see one combat
boot. He's going to hear me cock the hammer so I'll have to cock and
fire in one movement. Three shots rip out in rapid succession and in
the noise I fire at the gunman's boot. He goes over and his helmet
hits the ground right in my field of view. He seems to be looking at
me but I can't be sure. I get out from under the desk.
Beamish is down. He's taken two in the head without firing a shot. One
of his beady eyes isn't there any more. The gunman is moving a little
but it's like he's lost interest. He's dropped his semi-autos and his
M4's under him and he can't get up with a shot foot anyway. He's
making a high sound, not quite crying. I move around, covering the
gunman, and kick his Swocks well out of reach. Then suddenly the class
wakes up. They pull their guns and take aim at the gunman. Ted is
The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007 11
doing it strictly by the book, right arm straight, left hand cupping
the butt, and his jaw is working as he clenches his lips.
"No Ted!" I yell but he has fired before I get it out. Then the others
open up and I have to fall backwards out of the way. It feels like it
goes on for about ten minutes. It's probably only a few seconds. I'm
in the corner holding onto my knees with my back against the wall.
I don't really follow things too well after that. There's a lot of
running and shouting. People keep yelling "Don't touch him, don't move
him, wait for the paramedics."
Paramedics aren't going to be able to do much except collect shell
cases.
One of the local vigilante groups arrives about ten minutes before the
cops. They come in two by two cover formation, in battle robot outfits
just like the gunman except for the last one, who is Roy's dad. He's
just wearing regular clothes, and he's unarmed. He's still the boss
though. They all take up positions looking dangerous but they wait for
him to decide what to do next. He's a big tall guy and he doesn't look
excited at all. He scans the room, taking in Beamish, the gunman, me
in the corner and the kids who are standing around still holding their
guns. Then he says "Stand down."
The robots lower their weapons and the kids start putting their guns
away.
12 The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007
He checks out Beamish and nods to himself. He walks over to the gunman
and looks down at him. He sees the wound in the foot. He takes a big
breath and swallows once. Then he bends down and opens up the visor.
He knew it was Roy. Roy had all his Dad's gear, after all. We all
knew. The face is still recognizable. He has this strange expression,
though. It's not like an expression a live person would have. You can
still see the dark marks under his eyes. Two big bruises. Roy's Dad
looks at him, breathing quietly. Then he turns away without a word and
walks straight out.
The vigilante robots don't know what to do. They shuffle their feet
for a few minutes. Then one of them says "Fuck," and goes. The others
trail after him.
Then the cops show up. They do more or less the same thing the
vigilantes did, but with less style and more shouting. The cops are
mad because someone has touched the body and they like to do their
forensic shit. They're very territorial. They hate it when vigilantes
get there first.
The paramedics arrive. Somebody points them at me. One starts prodding
me and asking questions.
"Are you hit?"
My mouth isn't working very well. I manage to croak "Don't think so."
I'm starting to shiver and he drapes a blanket around me.
The paramedic is trying to get me to lie down but I just need to stand
up. I feel a little dizzy and I lean on the wall until it passes. I
The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007 13
sort of want to throw up. A detective comes over and shows me a badge
and says something. I can't even focus on it.
"Name?"
"Ebenezer Hollins".
"You fired the first shot?"
"I don't know. I think the gunman. Roy."
"Roy the perp? You know him?"
"Yeah. Fauntleroy Nebuchadnezzar Kelly."
"Jesus fuckin' Christ. Helluva name, even these days. How many times
you shoot your friend?"
I'm out of breath and it's hard to talk.
"One."
"You the foot?"
"Right."
"So he shoots the teacher, you shoot him in the foot, he goes down,
the rest of the kids tap him."
"Yeah."
"OK, future reference you maybe shoulda shot him a little more but you
did good, kid, and the other boys and girls came through. Look,
there's no suspicious circumstances here, standard school massacre, we
got your name, we may be in touch. OK?"
14 The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007
"Yeah."
"You can go."
He turns around and yells "People, we are finished here. Let's wrap it
up."
The forensic guys move away and they start zipping up body bags.
I decide to sit down on the floor.
The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007 15
Chapter 2
The next few days I just stay home. Ma isn't letting anyone in the
apartment. They say they came to offer their condolences but they just
want to hear about what happened. It's a bit of excitement for them.
The local paper sends a reporter round. Ma tells him to fuck off. They
run a page one headline "Fuck Off!" with a picture of Ma at the front
door giving the finger straight to camera. She prints it out and puts
it on the fridge.
I hear Ma at the door. She is saying "I'm sorry May, but he really
doesn't want to talk about it."
"Ma, let her in," I yell.
May has brought a cake. I have no idea what it cost her. It has fruit
and chocolate and this sugar glaze on the top. We have it on the sofa.
Ma sits with us for tea and cake and then she leaves us alone.
"How are you doing?" says May.
I put my arms around her and kiss her on the lips. She holds me and we
sit there for a while.
"I'm not too bad," I finally say.
Her hair smells like cinnamon and vanilla and wood smoke. We kiss some
more.
"What's happening at school?" I ask in a break.
"Wall-to-wall rent-a-counsellor. A death of a school community member
is a traumatic event. Your grief is a normal reaction to abnormal
16 The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007
stress. As you come to perceive the enormity of this tragedy we would
caution you not to engage in dangerous, self-destructive, or socially
unacceptable behavior. You may experience denial, anger, bargaining,
depression, and finally acceptance. I mean fuck. Just mail me the
PowerPoint."
I kiss her again.
"The tragedy being Beamish and Roy."
"I don't think anybody much is going to miss Beamish."
"I do miss Roy."
She moves her fingers around in my hair. I literally do not ever want
her to stop.
"Why don't you talk to his Dad?"
"Roy's Dad. Fuck, Roy's Dad did it!"
"He was at fault, but you two have Roy in common."
How does she know these things? It's like this whole other form of
intelligence. After that we don't talk a whole lot.
***
So I try to call Roy's Dad. No answer at Roy's place. In the end I
reach him through the group, Eternal Vigilance 14674. I leave a
message and ask if we can meet. He calls back an hour later.
"Zeb Kelly, returning your message."
The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007 17
"Mr Kelly, my name is Ben Hollins. I was a friend of Roy's."
"Ben Hollins."
"Yes."
"You the one that shot him in the foot?"
"Yes."
"You want to meet?"
"Yes."
"Grounds for Prosecution, 15:30".
I start to say "OK" but he has hung up.
Grounds for Prosecution is a cafe near the law courts. I show up early
and find a table. I buy a coffee so they don't mind me sitting there,
although I can't really afford it. He shows up at 15:30 on the dot. He
sees me straight away and nods. He gets a coffee and sits down.
"So."
"Mr Kelly, I'm so sorry about Roy."
"What is it you want?"
I have to think about that. It's the obvious question, but I don't
know the answer.
"I want to speak at Roy's funeral."
"You knew Roy before?"
18 The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007
"I was a friend. I want to talk about him."
He looks at me hard. It's the same way he looked at Beamish.
"You saw the whole thing?"
"I saw some of it."
"Roy got off three shots?"
I don't know what to say to that. I nod.
"He hit that teacher twice? The teacher with the Barrett?"
I just stare.
"The teacher didn't get off a shot?"
I am struggling. What does he want from me?
"Roy stayed cool, Mr Kelly."
Then he seems to slump.
"I didn't know my own son."
I can't believe I'm feeling sorry for the old bastard. He beat Roy
whenever he felt like it.
"I want to talk about Roy at his funeral. May I do that, Mr Kelly?"
He nods, head bowed over his coffee.
***
The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007 19
The funeral is a big event. It happens on the Thursday. The whole
school shows up, and some media. There's all this organ music as we go
in, like random notes but maybe it's Bach. There's no obvious place to
end but finally it stops.
Santa walks up to the pulpit. He stands there a moment, looking
gravely out at the congregation. The majestic red suit and flowing
white beard do their work. When he speaks there is total quiet.
"I giveth and I taketh away," he says, and pauses for effect.
"Blessed be my name!" he says, and someone says "Amen."
"We are here." says Santa, "to celebrate the life of Fauntleroy
Nebuchadnezzar Kelly."
Roy, I want to shout.
"Ashes to ashes," intones Santa, and it is a beautiful sound, almost a
song.
"Dust to dust." He makes dust sound like the wind blowing over the
desert of time. I have no idea how Mr Kelly can afford such a good
Santa.
"To talk about Roy, I am going to call on Ben Hollins."
I walk up the aisle. Barbie meets me with a dazzling smile and leads
me to the lectern. I have my notes in my hands, but the papers are
snapping and rattling and I have to lay them down for a minute. I look
up.
20 The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007
"Roy was my friend," I say. I look down at my notes but they start
rattling again.
"Roy was just a normal kid," I say. "He wanted what everybody wants."
I look up again. They are waiting for me to start making sense.
"The Roy I knew cared about his Dad, and about his friends, and about
his axolotl. Roy was interested in nature, and he could tell you
plenty about astronomy as well, even though he didn't have a
telescope. "
I'm losing them. I press on.
"I went home for lunch at his place sometimes, and we had spaghettios.
Roy and I would watch Discovery Channel and just talk about
stuff."
I know what I want to say now.
"Roy didn't know he was a good person, but I did."
I look up. No one seems to be getting it.
"I knew."
I pick up my notes and walk off. Barbie intercepts me and directs me
off the back way. The organ starts up again.
I'm waiting around outside to see if May is there. Zeb walks up. He
towers over me for a moment, then he holds out his hand. I take it and
he pulls me into him and hugs me. I wasn't expecting that but it feels
right. I hug him back.
The Uncomfortablists Neale Morison 2007 21
He lets go of me. Behind him I see May.
I say, "Excuse me, Zeb."
He nods.
I go over and take May's hand. Snow is falling softly.