Political Correctness Gone Mad

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

The Owning Corning Fiberglass Plant used to melt down glass and spin it into thread. You know that itchy pink stuff in fiberglass insulation? That’s just repurposed glass. They’d transport millions of glass marbles, ugly green ones covered in scratches, by train. The marbles would be heated up until they turned into roiling liquid, and then cooled down to make spun thread.

The surplus marbles were thrown out.

You could find them in the soil. Hundred of thousand of dense unbreakable glass spheres. Like little planets. Pick them out of the dirt and put them in your pocket. Throw them at passing cars.

Ward had been let go from professorships at three junior colleges. He had moved to Rhode Island about 10 years ago, and almost immediately set about trying to get the works of Jack London banned from local libraries. Ward found London’s works racist and offensive. Ward also had a sideline going to alternative culture gatherings and lecturing on how Might Is Right, a searing Social Darwinist polemic, had been pseudonymously written by London.

Mr. Desmond was an older gent whose strident right wing ideology had fallen out of favor in the neighborhood. Back in the 1960s, he hosted John Birch Society meetings and, incognito, printed up anti-Catholic and anti-Semitic pamphlets which he left in public restrooms.

Ward and Mr. Desmond lived across the street from one another, yet did not converse. In fact, they went to great lengths to avoid having contact with each other: leaving their own homes through back doors, inconveniently sitting in parked cars until the other passed.

I broke their windows with the marbles. It was easy. Mr. Desmond was an enfeebled fucking asshole who couldn’t do much, and Ward avoided any conflict that didn’t occur in a library or campus.

Next year, I’m gonna pour plaster of paris down their chimneys.

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