The teenager sits in his darkened room. A television flickers on one side of his desk, but his attention is currently on his desktop computer and the web page he's editing.
He remembers his excitement when he heard the news on the television the day before. "Yes!" he remembered thinking, when he heard of other teenagers, just like himself, striking back at those they hated, at the kids who scorned them. "Yes!" he almost shouted out loud as he thought of the glory of it all, of killing and scaring everyone, of giving the finger to the entire world .. and then going out in a blaze of glory!
"Yes!" And how there must be thousands, millions of other kids just like him, just worshipping those Trench Coat Mafia guys. Man, what balls! Man, that's the way to go!
He begins his search. Bombs, where's that bomb-making stuff? And I know some guys who know where to steal some guns. They're pissed off too: maybe they'd like to join him in one last glorious attack on those they hate. Boy, that would show them!
A new story on CNN gets his attention, and his eyes turn from the monitor to the small TV.
"This is really quite unbelievable," the on the scene reporter is stammering as her face turns from a scene in the distance back to the camera. "The two bodies are just lying right there on the grass, by the sidewalk."
The camera pans past her and zooms in on two figures laid out on the grass. They're pale, white, naked. Shriveled penises reveal them as male. Buildings to the side of the camera view identify the location as the high school where the mass murders occurred. The figures are skinny, bruised, unmoving.
Two other figures walk in front of the camera view, teenage boys with knapsacks, obviously high school students. Obviously they aren't surprised to see two naked and apparently dead bodies lying on the grass. The boys glance around for a second but don't notice the camera crew to their rear. They step up to the bodies and stand in a familiar spread-legged position. In a second the camera picks up glittering streams arcing down from their fronts, spraying and splashing over the white bodies on the grass.
Zippering themselves up, the two boys exchange grins and continue down the sidewalk.
"Yes, Johnny, I don't know if you could see that .. but those two boys appeared to just .. URINATE on those two bodies! And they aren't the first ones! Every boy who's passed by here has done the same thing! And there were a couple of adults too!"
"I don't know, Johnny .. I didn't recognize them. But the word is out about these bodies, and everyone is urinating on them!"
The TV screen switches to the news room and the moderator. "And here's a later interview with local authorities about the strange appearance of these two dead bodies on the high school lawn. There's a strange disregard for the entire situation. No one seems to know how the bodies got here from the Coroner's Office, and no one's in a hurry to remove them!"
A view of another newsman and a uniformed policeman.
"Are you telling me I didn't see two dead teenagers lying out there on the grass? Right over there, not a block away?"
"No sir, you might have seen something like that. I have no way of knowing. But my orders are to stay here and guard this side of the school. I'm afraid I'm much too busy to go looking for any dead bodies."
"So you can't confirm those are the bodies of the two 'Trench Coat Mafia" killers, the teenagers who did all the killing and then killed themselves?"
"No sir .. it might be, it might not be .. I really wouldn't know."
"Aren't you even going to call it in?" The newsman gestures at the small radio on the patrolman's jacket.
The policeman shrugs. "Well, if they ARE there .. they aren't going anywhere, are they?" He grins, no humor in the cold smile. "Besides, if those two jerks had just killed YOUR kids .. would you be bitching to me? Or walking over there to piss on them too?"
The view switches to the stunned face of the newsman, and then back to the CNN newsroom.
"And that's how it's been all afternoon. Everyone in the area seems to know about the two dead bodies. Hundreds of people have .. urinated on them .. and yet the authorities don't seem to be doing anything at all."
The teenager stares at the screen, at the two pale insignificant figures lying on the grass. No dignity. No glory. And two more teenagers approach, preparing to piss on them as well!
The teenager's stomach turns and he swallows a bitter taste. He gets a sudden mental image of two graves in a neighborhood cemetary .. and a future of constant desecration, stained gravestones, piles of fresh feces daily on the flat grass surfaces, as any town person with a few spare moments uses them to relive himself on one of the plots. And the entire lousy establishment, the cops, the grown-ups, everyone .. all part of the conspiracy.
Angrily he turns off the television and turns back to the computer. A web page from some "underground" group glows in all its mixed-case self glorification.
A click of the mouse and the modem goes offline, the web browser shuts down. Another click, and the familiar, safe, lonely world of DOOM loads onto the screen.