The Hate Within

An angry, hateful middle-aged man, finds company online.
But he soon realizes he didn’t make the best life choices. 

Written by Peter Spout
​2019 All rights reserved. For personal reading and enjoyment only
Part of the World of Entopia Short Story Series

​Not a day goes by that Rob doesn’t hate the world and everyone who lives in it. At least until he met Zurik.
 
Rob was born into a family that didn’t have room or the love needed to raise him properly. There was already two older siblings that were more than happy to take what they wanted and leave Rob with little to nothing.
 
His parents were convinced that providing him with a few outfits to wear, basic food, and a roof over his head was more than sufficient. “After all, he could be homeless,” was their thinking.
 
Rob wasn’t a good-looking man, nor was he well built. Growing up, he was a skinny, pimpled-face teen, with jet black hair and brown eyes. Now in his forties, he is still skinny, average looking, with small craters in his face, from where he popped his pimples as a teen.
 
He worked in a cubicle, as a call solicitor. He was always bothered by the frequent hang-ups and obscenities the customers would say to him. It was a tough job and sales were his primary source of income.
 
Rob blamed much of everything he didn’t have on society and those close to him. For they always tended to have more and would boast about their vacations and getaways on social media.
 
“Look at these people smiling and having fun,” Rob commented to himself while looking at others online. “They have a life and a love for it.”
 
He was single because his constant cynicism kept others at bay. As soon as someone would try and get to know him, he would quickly turn the conversation to how the government and society are corrupt and selfish.
 
As truthful as he may have been, he would bring down whoever was around him.
 
A few times, he was invited to a family birthday party for his niece or nephew but was left off the next few years’ list because of his negative attitude, even at birthday parties.
 
“Look at all that’s wrong with this world,” he would say when watching the nightly news.
 
Many times, he would become angry when driving, and lash out at other drivers. If he were cut off by another car, he would be sure to drive around them and slow down once he got in front of them. He would flip people off regularly and even yell at pedestrians and bicycles when he went by if they were on the road.
 
“Why are you so angry, Rob?” his co-worker recently asked him at lunch.
 
“Because I’m tired of being crapped on. Everyone wants to screw you over. I’m sick of it!” he replied.
 
While surfing the web one evening, in his one-bedroom apartment, he came across a chat room that talked about the hate and cynicism he felt. The site was filled with people who were just like him.
 
He pulled his chair in closer and started getting into everything they were spewing. “This is exactly how I feel,” he said to himself.
 
“All these immigrants, these low life’s, these poor losers, taking our resources, raping our families, their worthless, all of them,” he said out loud to himself.
 
Rob would write his comments on the chat room bulletin boards and get pleasure out of seeing others agree with him.
 
Day in and day out, he spent all his free time in this virtual chat room. And each day that passed, he became angrier. When driving, he would tailgate mothers, young teen drivers, and even the elderly. He wouldn’t hold a door for anyone, would shove by someone in a store aisle, and started telling customers on the phone where he worked; he hoped they would die.
 
At the age of 45, he was ripe for an explosion. He visited his town’s local gun show and attended the concealed weapons class, then bought himself his first handgun.
 
He would now walk around, with his weapon hidden and would think to himself, “I could just pull out my gun and kill that person, right now, if I wanted to.”
 
When he drove on the highway and was cut off, he would speed up next to them and flash his gun at the other car. He knew people were scared, but he felt like they deserved it.
 
One evening, while online visiting the chat room, he noticed there was a local assembly planned for all those in his area. An opportunity for others who were like-minded to get together. A time to mingle and make friends who were just as pissed off at society as he was.
 
The advertised event was only one week away and at the local hotel. He made his reservations and was looking forward to it.
 
As time got closer, he became more and more excited. He was even losing sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking about how great it was going to be. “Two nights and three days hanging with people just like me,” he would silently say, then chuckle. “They all understand what I’m talking about.”
 
The day of the event finally came, and he arrived, after work, at the hotel at 4:30 p.m. Friday. He checked in and unpacked his suitcase in his room. He went downstairs to the ballroom, got his name tag and started to grab some food at the buffet.
 
The ballroom was filling up, and he piled his plate with food and found a table with only two other people sitting at it, already eating.
 
“Mind if I join you two?”
 
“Not at all, have a seat,” one of the other men said.
 
“My name is Roy.”
 
“Hi, my name is Rob.”
 
The other man then said, “I’m Curtis. Nice to meet you two.”
 
As they ate, they conversed and bonded over the common hatred and bitterness they all shared. They despised almost everyone, any color, any sex, it didn’t matter. They just hated virtually everyone.
 
“I’m so glad I found the chat room; otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” Rob said.
 
“I found that room six months ago,” Roy responded. “I’m so glad I did too. We need to meet others who feel the same way we do.”
 
They were then joined by a few other men who needed a place to sit and eat. This night was just a mixer. So, they had ordered drinks and laughed and told stories of how they would intimidate others and how they enjoyed the looks on their faces.
 
“One day, I was cut off by this minivan. I followed them for about one mile, stayed right on their bumper. I could tell they had a few kids in there, and that was even more fun!” Curtis said.
 
“They knew I was pissed and made every turn they did. When the van pulled over on a side street, I pulled up and rolled my passenger window down. The woman, I suppose it was the mother, was crying and begged me to leave her family alone. She said she would call the police if I didn’t stop following her.”
 
The other guys at the table listening to Curtis were laughing.
 
“What did you do then?” asked Rob?
 
“I told that bitch she better learn how to drive and not piss people off again. Otherwise, she could find herself dead,” Curtis replied.
 
“Holy shit, dude! What did she do?” asked Roy.
 
“She sped off and almost hit a tree fleeing,” he answered.
 
“These people don’t know who they’re messing with. I could end their life. Some probably deserve it,” Rob said.
 
The others just agreed and continued telling stories.
 
Throughout the ballroom, the conversation was the same. Group to group, they all had such anger and hatred toward society. Some had already been to jail for battery; others were not caught or identified for their actions toward others who were only being rude or inconsiderate.
 
The drunker they became, the more they relished the idea of making those responsible, pay.
 
“Okay, one more quick story before I retire,” Curtis said. “One evening, I was in the parking lot of a grocery store, when this Mexican took my parking spot. I became enraged and parked down the row. I walked up to their car as they were getting out and shoved the husband into the car, put my gun to his chin and said, ‘I should blow your f**kin brains out, right now, in front of your family.’
 
“The mother started yelling for me to stop and the two younger kids started crying. ‘Please don’t hurt my daddy,’ the little boy cried.
 
The father just kept apologizing. I was so ready to waste him, right there.”
 
“What happened?” Roy asked.
 
“A few customers started making a scene and calling the police. So, I just left.”
 
“Did they get your tag?”
 
“No, I was smart enough to pull through and headed out the other direction. Plus, my tag is stolen. So, I don’t care if they do. 
​ 
“Good times,” Rob said as he stood up to go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be great! Breakfast buffet and the creator of the chat room will speak tomorrow.”
 
As they all departed to bed, they left with smiles and optimism. They felt good about their weekend so far.
 
The next morning, they awoke and went downstairs to the smell of pancakes, sausage, and bacon. After being searched to be certain no one had any weapons, they were free to enter the ballroom.
 
Rob, Roy, and Curtis all sat together again, as did a few of the others who joined them last night.
 
The morning was filled with guest speakers from other towns and states, all spewing the same hate. The government is corrupt, the minorities are to blame, the immigrants are criminals, and the constant disdain for women and authority.
 
After lunch, the main speaker took the stage. His name was Zurik. “I hope you all are enjoying yourselves thus far?”
 
The attendees cheered widely.
 
Zurik took the microphone from the stand and started walking around the stage, keeping the crowd pumped up and excited by his hateful rhetoric.
 
Twenty minutes into his fevered speech, there came a sudden change in his demeanor.
 
“I’ve listened to you all revel at how you enjoy scaring other people, making them terrified, and even assaulting them or even worse. I read what you are thinking and what you have done and plan to do. I am grateful I was able to bring you all together, for I have a surprise for you!”
 
The crowd went silent. The two front doors of the ballroom opened and these masked men, dressed in all black, started walking in, each carrying an assault rifle.
 
Everyone was quiet and staring at the twenty or so men who came in from both doors and stood spread out around the room. When the doors closed, Zurik said, “Now that you have no weapons, you are defenseless. What can you do?”
 
Zurik continued, “Many of you love to see others on the other end of the barrel. Now it is your turn. These weapons have been bought legally, by law abiding citizens. Now, they are about to shred you in pieces. For all of you are the center of hatred. You only grow to hate more online, where you are fed each session you are logged in.
 
You all had choices to make, but you ended up here. Laughing, conversing, and enjoying stories of innocent people being bullied by you!
 
At this point, no one knows where you’re at. Because where you were, you are no more. The cell phones are jammed, and no calls can come in or out. For the next hour, we will sit here, while you write a goodbye note to your loved ones. If you have no loved ones, then you can sit there and wait. For in one hour, all of you will die.”
 
As the paper and pens were being passed out, there was not one word said by anyone sitting at the tables. It was quiet. Faces that were once smiling and laughing were now wearing a look of gloom and despair.
 
Zurik started the countdown on a large digital clock on the stage to show the time remaining.
 
A few of the men tried raising their hand or getting up to approach Zurik to talk to him, but they were told to sit down and write their letters.
 
“Make sure you tell your wife and kids that you love them, and you hope they have a better life without you. Because I’m sure, they will. So will the people you harass and intimidate.
 
Rob just sat there, heart pounding and palms sweating. He looked at Curtis, who just stared at him. Roy pulled out his phone, but there was no signal.
 
Zurik would remind everyone that there was to be no talking. One man didn’t believe his threat and stood up. “You can’t do this to us. We are here to keep society in line. What will you do without us?”
 
“Society will survive. There will always be bullies and those who intimidate others, but you all took it to another level. You made it into a lifestyle. Look where you’re at? You have feasted on hatred, bitterness, and the fear of others because your life was such a piece of shit.
 
Blame your parents, your upbringing, your looks, whatever you want to blame it on. Then, I will tell you of those who have not been able to walk, see, hear, and cannot bear to be outside. Shall they do the same as you?
 
You had choices when many didn’t. There are two hundred of you in here and millions out there. Why is that?
 
Does your family know where you’re at? Do your friends? Your boss? I bet not. Because you don’t want them to know.”
 
The countdown clock read 25 minutes left.  While the armed men continued to stand guard, a few men from one table decided to test them. They stood up and started running for one of the doors. Three of the gunmen opened fire, hitting them and inadvertently hitting two others sitting down at another table.
 
The three who went for the door and shot were on the ground, with blood spilling from each of them. The power of the guns was so deadly, pieces of their bodies were shot entirely off. The attendees were horrified and turned away. Some started upchucking from the sight and smell.
 
The other two who were wounded at the table were pulled to the front of the ballroom, toward the stage. They were writhing in pain and begging for help.
 
“There is no need for help, as you will be dying soon anyway. I’m sure some of you have left innocent people like this as you sped away in your car.”
 
As they kept pleading and complaining, Zurik ordered that their mouths be taped shut.
 
“You have 15 minutes left to live. If you wish to write more notes, do so now,” Zurik told them.
 
As the clock hit ten minutes, a few of the men started begging. “Please, I have a family. Please let me go,” one man pleaded.
 
A few others also started to beg for their life. But Zurik wouldn’t acknowledge them.
 
When there were five minutes left, men started whimpering and tearing up. These same men intimidated others with their vehicles, guns and pure anger in person and online. They called themselves ‘trolls.’
 
Rob knew he made a huge mistake.
 
“I have no family to write to and no one who cares to read it anyways. But I had a choice that could have changed all of that. I could have looked at things differently. Instead of blaming my family and society, I should have taken what opportunity I had and ran with it. Now, it’s too late,” he said quietly to himself.
 
Curtis wrote a two-page note to his wife and two daughters. He folded the tear-soaked note and wrote their names on the front fold. He then started balling.
 
“Two minutes remain,” Zurik said on the microphone. “We are pouring you each a beverage. You are to drink it at the one-hour mark, or, you will be brought to the front of the stage and stabbed in the stomach, to make your dying painful. Do yourself a favor and drink what we give you.”
 
As everyone got their beverage; the clock went to zero. Zurik said, “It is time for society to cleanse itself of this hatred. I set up this chat room to capture as many of you as possible. Now, I will relish seeing the perpetrators be the victims.
 
Now, pick up your cup!”
 
Each picked up their cup, looked at it, then looked at each other.
 
“Maybe in the next lifetime, you will make better choices,” Zurik said. “Now drink!”
 
Everyone started to drink it, including Rob. They all just sat there and waited. Within a few minutes, men began to keel over in their chairs. Some on the ground, others went face first into the table.
 
Rob was still in disbelief and just waited for his turn as he observed those around him go down. He watched Curtis keel over to his left, onto the floor. Then Roy’s head hit the table. Rob then started to feel drowsy. He could begin to smell apples. For he had always loved apple pie. His eyes became heavy, and he could no longer keep them open. He felt himself falling to his right onto the floor.
 
As soon as he hit the floor, he woke up!
 
He laid there in bed, drenched in sweat. He starred at the ceiling for several minutes, not recognizing where he was. Then he sat up in bed and looked around the dark room. “Where am I?” he said to himself.
 
He got up and started walking around the room. He turned on a light and realized he was in a hotel room. But not the one he was in the night before.
 
He noticed this painting on the wall that had a picture of the top half of Earth, with stars all around it. He walked up to it, and his eyes became clearer. He was then able to make out the writing on the picture.
 
It said, “Welcome to the World of Entopia!”
 
 
E.