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    The Story of "e"
    The Story of "e"
    The Story of "e"
    Ebook74 pages1 hour

    The Story of "e"

    By Mel C. Thompson

    ()

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    An angry, solitary Incel bangs out angry articles from his mancave apartment in Los Angeles. He rents an apartment from a gun-toting, old-world Russian. Roger, a sexist-but-progressive publisher employs Victoria-Elizabeth, a feminist journalist, to cover, among other things, the men's rights movement. Roger orders his reporter to give a neutral account of the manosphere, and she gets the inside scoop by bribing Incel with expensive wining and dining. Her ongoing series is popular with both liberals and conservatives, but her and Incel's plans run into a problem with Nature itself. And Nature comes calling in the form of "e," a supernatural but under-informed being who himself gets confused while trying to form relationships with humans and carry out nature's directives. Very little comes off as planned, and, in the end, that's just the way evolution likes it.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMel C. Thompson
    Release dateAug 10, 2018
    ISBN9780463969212
    The Story of "e"
    Author

    Mel C. Thompson

    Mel C. Thompson is a retired wage slave who survived by working through temp agencies and guard agencies. Unable to survive in the real world of full-time, permanent work, he migrated from building to building, going wherever his agencies sent him, doing any type of work he could feign competency in and staying as long as those fragile arrangements could last. He somehow managed to get a B.A in Philosophy from Cal-State Fullerton in spite of his learning disorders and health problems. Unable to sustain family life due to depression, anxiety, sleep disorders, lack of transportation and lack of income, he lives alone in low-income housing and wanders around California on buses and trains. He began writing at the age of 14 and continues till the current day. (He turns 64 in June of 2023). In his early years he wrote pathetic love poetry until, in his thirties, he was engulfed by cynicism and fell in with a group of largely antisocial poets who wrote about the underground life of drugs, sex, alcohol, poverty, prostitution, heresy, isolation and alienation. In his fortes he turned to prose and began to write religious fiction with an emphasis on the comedic aspect of theology and philosophy. He now writes short novels focusing on the attempt to find meaning in a economic world beset with money laundering, unethical marketing, contraband smuggling, human trafficking, patent trolling, corrupt contracting and every manner of spiritual and psychological desperation and degradation. When he is not writing, he wanders from hospital to medical clinic to surgical room attempting to sustain what little health he has left after a lifetime of complications resulting from birth defects and genetic problems. When he is able, he engages in such hobbies as reading, walking, yoga and meditation; and whenever there is any money left over from his healthcare-related quests, he goes to wine tastings and searches for foodie-related bargains. Before the pandemic, he spent many years gaming various travel-points systems and wrangled many free trips to Europe. He is divorced and has no children, no pets, no real estate, no stocks nor any other assets beyond the $550 in his savings account. His career peaked in the early 2000s when he did comedy gags for a radio station and had about 10,000 listeners per week. However, currently, he may have as few as five active readers on any given day. He no longer has the stamina to promote his work and only finds new readers through ran...

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      Book preview

      The Story of "e" - Mel C. Thompson

      The Story of e

      Mel C. Thompson

      Copyright © 2018

      To find out the many ways you can help the ongoing efforts of all the authors in the Mel C. Thompson Publishing lineup, please use the contact information below:

      Mel C. Thompson Publishing

      3559 Mount Diablo Boulevard, #112

      Lafayette, CA 94549

      melcthompson@yahoo.com

      Cover drawing: Two sketches of Krishna playing a flute, by Theo van Doesburg, 1916, a public domain work.

      1. His Continual State of Pent-Up Rage

      Incel was combing the information networks of the world trying to justify his continual state of pent-up rage when a knock came at the door of his subsidized apartment. (The subsidized apartment thing was kind of an embarrassment because he spent a lot of his time writing and publishing articles about how taxes and social programs were tantamount to simple theft; but Incel had compartmentalized this by claiming to himself that the help he was getting from the government was only a temporary thing and that he would soon be joining the ranks of perpetually-angry tax-payers as a full-time worker who was fully self-sufficient.) Of course he had no way of knowing the person knocking on the door would see through virtually all of his illusions, and so he impatiently pulled the door open and said, What?

      The entity who faced him seemed to have a male form, although one could not be sure if the humanoid figure had any gender at all. By all accounts, one would reasonably presume there was a normal person underneath the garb, but such a guess would be purely speculative. This being had two arms and two legs, a torso, a neck and a head, but they were all covered by a pure-white whole-body suit. The man began to speak very clearly although his entire face and form, (if indeed there were a face and form behind the white cloth), was completely covered. Somehow this covering did not muffle the sound in any way. It was as if his voice were emanating through the entire surface of his body. The only distinguishing mark was a large letter e in the center of what would have been the shirt portion of the body-suit.

      Incel jumped back and exclaimed, What the hell? What is this — some kind of joke? What do you want? Why are you screwing with people this way? Don’t you know this is a rough neighborhood? You could get shot or mugged wandering around a place like this alone in a costume like that. Why don’t you try this stunt in the Art District where people will at least be ready for something like this?

      The person spoke. You are Incel?

      Yes, but who told you about me? Did one of my hostile readers put you up to this?

      No, replied the entity. I have been sent by Nature. There are some things you need to learn. I was sent to impart those things to you. You will be free to share, or not to share, the things I must show you. If you do opt to share your story, some people will believe you and some won’t, and some I won’t allow to hear you. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The main thing I came to tell you is that Nature may, or may not, help you with your loneliness, but it has empowered me to show you the source of your loneliness. Nature has not failed to reward you in the ways you were seeking to be rewarded because of any personal enmity toward you, but rather because rewarding a person like you too much would create a risk of violating all of the laws of Nature, and Nature takes its laws pretty seriously. The laws of Nature, of course, are plain to see, but your survival instinct forbids you, and almost all people, from seeing them. In any case, it was Nature’s determination that if you knew the cause of your suffering, you would take your sufferings far less personally and perhaps you would hate humanity far less than you do now. That is the only reason I am here.

      Oh great, sneered Incel. You know, it’s socialist-infiltrator nut-cases like you that make the Men’s Rights Movement seem even more fucked up than it already is. Everyone already sees us as desperate wankers and freaks, and now you have to come and make our job even harder by parading around in some glorified jump-suit claiming to be a prophet or some such thing. And anyway, I don’t like the way you’re using the word ‘Nature.’ It sounds like some kind of religious prattle; and while half the people who read my editorials may think I’m some impotent loser, at least I don’t need the crutch of some New Age goddess crap to keep me going. I may have to live alone because of what I believe, but I’m never going to knuckle under and go in for any mystical sissy shit. So, if you will excuse me, I’d like to go back to making my gourmet dinner for one, dinner for one forever. My life is hard enough without some liberal performance artist creep stalking around my door trying to convert me to some wimpy Taoist garbage. If you have anything serious to say, you’d better say it quickly and you’d better say it now, or I’m slamming this door shut. That last thing our movement needs is another bipolar fruitcake like you!

      Incel went to shut the door, but found that not only could he not shut the door, but that the door was coming all the way open and the creature e was stepping straight into his one-person micro-palace. Incel tried to speak but found he could not force any words out at the moment. Incel then turned to see that e was lounging quite leisurely on his overstuffed, brown, leather couch, (a couch he could never afford on his own but which was inherited from one of the long series of prematurely-deceased people in his semi-undergrounder world).

      As Incel wrestled

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