Attempted Evil

Randy McPherson, Knight of Incomprehensible Evil (junior grade), rolled off his bed and onto a goat-headed statue that he’d accidentally left on the floor. He yelped and jumped up. He was tired and now in pain. This was definitely going to be a bad day. He felt briefly happy about this fact, then paused: was he supposed to feel happy or sad? It was so confusing being evil.

It was definitely a lot more mental work than the brochure had indicated. He had seen the booth for the League of Incomprehensible Evil at the Career Fair, with their black brochures that proclaimed in red letters, “Steal me!”

He had and had stayed up all night learning the value of being evil. Things like not paying your taxes, not waiting behind others in line, or not being politely bored at parties. The last test was to call a number to prove you had really stolen the brochure. He had called and the woman on the other end had berated him for following instructions.

“Truly evil people do what they want!” she scolded.

“Sorry,” Randy said.

“Never say you’re sorry, you pathetic maggot!” she bellowed. “Only good people say sorry.”

“Well, go to hell then!” Randy said, finally getting into the spirit of things.

There was a shocked silence. “You don’t have to get pissy,” the woman said and hung up.

Randy should have known then to leave it alone, but the forbidden fruit of pure, chaotic freedom beckoned to him, like the last piece of pie in the fridge when you’re staying overnight at someone else’s house. He went to next meeting and met the leader of the Knights.

“Welcome to Knights of Incomprehensible Evil,” Archlord of (Blackest Evil Badness)2 Gerald Humbert said. Then he punched Randy in the stomach and stole his wallet.

“What do I do now?” Randy gasped from the floor. “How do I be evil?”

“Figure it out!” the A of (BEB)2 said. Then he kicked Randy and set his hair on fire.

Randy tried to think of the evilest thing he could. He snuck out at night to a hospital and slashed the tires of all the cars in the handicapped parking spots. Then he felt bad and called a tire repair center and had them charge all the repairs to his credit card.

“Okay, that was just a little lapse,” he told himself hours later, as he was mentally kicked himself for his weakness. “I’ll be worse tomorrow, I swear.”

He got some encouragement (or discouragement) from the weekly Knights of Incomprehensible Evil (KIE) meetings. Most of the members would just get together and lie shockingly about all the evil deeds they had committed over the last week. The meetings generally ended early though, as someone invariably tried to poison the punch or blow up the building. Gerald had to walk to the meetings too, since it was a rookie mistake to leave your car in the parking lot where it could be stolen or car-bombed.

Still, Randy soldiered on. He filed his tax return because he he forgot not to, but then made up for it by wildly overestimating his deductions. Once, on an emotional high (or low), he started to plot how he could murder one of his neighbors. But in the end, he settled for trampling the flowers in his garden.

“I just don’t think I’m very good at being evil,” he confessed at one of the KIE meetings. The members laughed at him, then held him down so they could take turns giving him wedgies.

Finally, there came a breaking point. One night, Randy disguised himself and snuck out to a homeless shelter. He spent a wild night of abandon, feeding people, doing laundry, and teaching literacy classes. But before it got light, he crept back home, put on his black cape and blared his music at 5:00am. No one suspected he was anything but a terrible person.

Randy is still a member of the KIE. He still goes to the meetings but it’s all different now. He sneaks out to fix the damage other members do. He carries around antidotes for the inevitable poisonings. He even chips in money for the coffee and doughnuts. He’s taking the organization down from the inside.

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About David Stewart

I am a writer of anything quirky and weird. I love most genres of fiction and in each there are stories that I would consider "my kind of story". View all posts by David Stewart

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