The story of a lonesome ol'Jerome

*Gwyn's POV*

I walked to a Subway and got an egg white omelet with spinach and pepperjack. The morning may not have resulted in autographs, but it was still kind of neat, and I was excited for the show. After finishing my grub and taking a piss, I decided just to go back to the venue and sit around and wait. Many games of cell phone chess later, the doors opened, and we went in.

It would be completely futile to try and describe what the concert was like. Suffice to say that I had not felt that way in a long time. I felt my heart, so incredibly damaged and trod on by so many, uplifted and supported. I screamed like a banshee. I smiled a true smile. A few tears found their way out.

Afterwards, I found myself in a long line for a signing at the merch table. I felt... acutely weird. Other people had all sorts of things to sign, I had just brought that piece of paper. I mean, it was a pretty nice piece of paper, no lines or anything. I fidgeted. I started to worry. As stupid as it sounded, Andy Biersack was way too attractive, and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if I looked at him. I didn't care if he was used to people staring at him like that, I didn't want to make him feel objectified, I didn't want him to sense I had a 'celebrity crush' (I cringed at the thought) on him just as bad as any 13 year old. It was mortifying- I thought he was an incredible artist, musician, and lyricist, I didn't want to get distracted by stupid shit like his appearance. I decided I would look at the ground or table. Fucking embarrassing bullshit.

Somewhat unexpectedly, the line was going fast. I might actually get autographs, actually make it to the table! As I got closer my mind started to race and jolt like an electrified pinball. I was maybe 15 feet away from the table, when I heard a commotion.

I saw Andy and Jake walking away, apologizing profusely, saying they really had to go to the bathroom. And then, some asshole started yelling at them. “I’ve waited an hour, man! What the fuck, guys! Don’t you give a shit about your fans? You guys are fucking dicks!”

I looked at the guy for a second. He was a big, healthy-looking guy. I was old, overweight, weak, and had a bunch of arthritis from joint problems. But the time is always right to do what is right. And some motherfucker needed assistance shutting his fucking mouth. I made my way towards him without thinking about it.

A small gap had cleared around the mouthy fucker. People were telling him to shut up, but no one had stopped him, and he was still screaming. “Hell-oo!?! You guys didn’t even do any signing this morning, don’t you even fucking care? Are you coming back or-“ I grabbed him; turned him around. I stood very close to him and spoke very clearly in case he was drunk.

“Shut the fuck up, motherfucker. These men are real people, with real needs, and real lives. If they need to piss, or if they want to leave, you will fucking well let them, because they are great men, and fucking heroes to thousands. Treat them with the respect they deserve. They don’t owe you anything, motherfucker.” Unfortunately, some idiot decided to applaud that, and a handful of other people took it up. The giant asshole didn’t take that well.

“Fuck you, you fucking fat cunt!” He shoved me to the ground by my face and chest, and I landed hard on my hands. No one likes being shoved, but I really, really don’t like being touched without permission. I saw red.

In less than a second, all the rage from decades of being bullied and mocked for my weight, looking different, being pansexual and polyamorous, all my bitter hatred bubbled to the surface. I grinned and laughed hysterically while clambering back up. Then I ran at him and buried my small right fist, driven by my weakling’s arm, powered by the anguish of years of torture, so deep in his balls that I must have connected with his spine. He had not been expecting it and doubled over to the ground. I cackled and raised my boot to kick him in the head, my self-control pretty well gone, when I was grabbed roughly around the torso and yanked a couple feet away.

Notes