A couple of years ago, I was killed in an indie horror film called Killer View. In hopes of boosting my film career, I followed a serial killer around with a camera to find out what happens when psychopaths stop being polite and start getting real. Of course, my hubris got the best of me. My footage was found; I was not.
I went to college with money my parents think is in a retirement account. I screwed over my best friend to get an internship at a production company. I resorted to a sensationalistic documentary idea when I quit the internship because it was too hard, but I still wanted to be famous. And yet one random, mass-killing man felt that my life wasn’t one worth living so he took it away from me.
I love my country, but each year, hundreds of Americans are murdered at the hands of escaped mental patients, cannibals, ghosts, vampires, zombies, demonic puppets, grown children who had been left for dead at summer camp, families mutated by the government and even a fellow who kills people in your dreams. I don’t know in what kind of dream one can die; I just know it’s not the American one.
The slayings continue on victims no matter how random, depleting the U.S. of its ranks of victimizers and frat guys (Who will run our corporations and hedge funds?); libidinous teens and dreamers (Who will attend our liberal arts colleges?); and our wastoids and goths (Who will write our blogs!?).
To add insult to massacre, out of the hundreds of us taken out, a few chosen are deemed worthy and virtuous enough to live. As if surviving a killing spree and becoming a national hero, only to find true love with that quarterback who just hadn’t noticed you all these years, so you retreat into a life of quiet solitude and fulfillment is anything to Skype home about. Lame! You call that aspirational? You think you’re so special? Call me when you parlay your fame into free bottle service at Drai’s and a guest spot on Gossip Girl. But I guess you’re better than the rest of us. Did you ever think that maybe I wanted to die…to achieve immortality? Maybe this was my plan all along and now I can come back and haunt your ass in the sequel. The afterlife rocks. Warmer than I thought, but you know what? I can still make your life miserable from here…a living nightmare!
I am the 99 Percent. Occupy Elm Street.