13 August, 2018

In the peaceful town of Bigetswill, found in Two Lawrence's, Floorsida. There was a man who had always been an outcast.

This is his story.

Willy Nilly Arbee, a balding produce and cookware organizer at Pot Surround & More, diligently placed items on a shelf. Silly Willy, he never thought his day would change the way it did.

"Mr. Arbee, may I have a word with you?" A voice crackled from the loudspeakers and reverberated throughout the supermarket.

Willy quickly straightened his back and stared at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights above hummed, fizzed and popped. "Off again?" He breathed in deeply to calm himself, but suddenly walked in a huff toward his boss's office.

Once he reached the door, he took a moment to ponder over the reasons he'd be called in. Could it be? No, it can't be. He thought while shaking his head. Never did he understand why his boss installed a door with two brass knobs on it. Finally, grabbing the knob, he twisted and entered.

"What's going on Bill?" Willy asked.

Bill peeped from behind a newspaper and shook it several times before putting it away. "Have a seat. There's something we need to talk about," he said.

Willy stood in place. "Do I have to, sir? Can't I just stand where I'm at?"

"You must sit Willy, neatly in that chair, so we can speak."

Willy complied with the order.

"I'm very concerned about you. There has been ... occasionally, an unacceptable behavior displayed by you that has been brought to my attention. Let me just state that it cannot and will not be tolerated. We will not have any of it, I will not have any of it. But you're a human being, nonetheless, so therefore—like the rest of us—you're prone to misgivings here and there. I'm fairly certain you understand the rules of correctness, so it would only seem logical that perhaps an outside force is affecting you. Is everything ok at home? Has there been a recent death in the family which I'm not aware of?"

"Is this about the other day when I said, 'I prefer vanilla with my coffee, and wish one of the vending machines had one, because black with no sugar is too bitter for me', sir?" Willy asked.

"That and a few other statements you have said. Several of your coworkers here, have been made to feel uneasy and were taken aback a few times. They will not work with you, and they simply do not understand why you would suggest something against things which we have come to accept so freely. Our beloved President Vice Roy, passed several executive orders detailing the direction in which our great society should be guided to. Even Vice President Aper Tuoir decided to polish The Constitution for us, so that we would be a heard ... noble, dutiful and ordered society."

"But Bill ... of rights, what of them, then?"

"I'm going to have to suggest that you attend a clinic and see a good therapist, if you are to continue working here that is. It is imperative that you comply."

That's exactly what Willy did. One week later, he found himself entering the Phicsem Sikem: Counseling and Pharmaceutical Clinic ...

The receptionist smiled at him. "How may I help you?"

"I think—", he began to say, but was quickly interrupted.

"I understand. Let me make sure Dr. Phil Stein is available to see you. He might be the appropriate doctor for you. Please have a seat and he'll be right with you."

Willy sat down on a gray chair and looked around. The waiting room was full of many black and white posters displaying all sorts of images and captions.

We're here to help.

Medicine to keep the monster at bay.

You too can be cured with this!

Just think positive, remember ... anger and sadness are foul.

Be kind to the ambience, no one likes a Debbie Downer.

Sharing is selfish, practice quietude.

"Hello, Mr. Willy Nilly Arbee! I'm Dr. Phil Stein, please walk this way." Dr. Stein marched straight toward his office, while Willy followed with uncertainty.

Once in the office, the doctor gestured for him to sit.

"Thank you." Willy said.

"Your report here, which contains some alarming information about your current ailment, details enough information for your required cure. Do you find yourself having difficulty following orders though?"

He thought about the question for a second and then answered: "no".

"I see, perhaps, slightly delusional as well." Dr. Stein muttered. "Have you always lived in Bigetswill, Mr. Arbee?"

"No, I emigrated here when I was twenty years old."

"Indeed, that might be the root of the problem. You might have been born with a slight disability which prevents you from acclimating or conforming to our ways. No need to worry, it's a common disability found in foreigners." He clicked his tongue and held his head up high.

"Excuse me, do you mean to say that having an opinion is a disability?" Willy was shocked with the prognosis.

"It is, when the opinion is different from what the majority has chosen to be acceptable."

"I don't agree with that, doctor."

"And that's the problem. No matter, you will, after we have you implanted with the new state of the art Sensor Chip. Recently manufactured by our own very pharmaceutical company. Once installed, you will slowly acclimate, as it will zap you at a mere 10mA—unnecessary technical lingo—via the new Brock system, until—by your own free will—you begin discarding fanciful notions."

"You mean condition me via torture?" Willy asked.

"Now Willy, you must understand that we don't subscribe to such words as conditioning and torture—or even bullying—in our society, unless it's those told to us by the news. This will help you, so that you don't become an even bigger social pariah. It's for your own good ... everything I have said. Your employer and myself only have the best interest of the commonwealth at heart. We cannot be bothered by such proclivities, such as the ones you've displayed, our political police simply doesn't have the resources to direct their attention to each and every individual anymore."

With no other option available, he conceded.

At first, it was difficult being zapped so often, the occasional soiled pants and tremors—that wouldn't subside for weeks—but then, an astounding thing occurred. He found himself celebrated as employee of the week, then month, followed by year. The sensor chip worked. Everyone liked him and wanted to be his friend.

Inside, he was still the same old Willy Nilly, but externally, said everything everyone wanted to hear. It was like Utopia. His popularity increased. He became a godfather to at least ten babies and had a seemingly beautiful life. Everyone wanted to be Willy Nilly. Though they could never be, because before then, Willy Nilly just died.

Let him R.I.P., let all like Willy just RIP.

The End.

*+-*+-*+-*+-*+-*+-*+-*

A tall guy and a little lad.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

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'Censorship. All it took was an idea and careful campaigning, that still keeps spreading on like wildfire. The Grand Illusion indeed. These are topics that are more serious than they're given credit for, because of everything else they connect to [which are staggering to say the least]. The PC spiel going on is complete censorship, not just in comedy, not just in media or entertainment, but a foul campaign to bottle up all emotion and opinion. In an almost Victorian era hypocrisy, under the label of "manners" and "conscientiousness". It's a bunch of bull is what it is and, frankly, it's downright disgusting, even more foul than the despot. I think I'll take the despot, the fact the population is aiding such an agenda is unnerving. It's like a strange, distorted modern Boston Tea Party with sandals and khakis, instead of tights and heeled shoesies.'

'Tee-hee, let's frolic around and pretend how we don't feel angry, sad, depressed and basically everything that makes us human. Yeah, sure, that'll do you some good right? Meanwhile, depression keeps rising along with cancer, and surprise it's not just the food. Because no matter how good someone eats, if they're festering inside emotionally, they're going to fester physically.'

'Almost two decades ago, there were conferences about the issue of censorship, as well as, censorship within the internet, by means of controlling certain flow of information. It had proven extremely difficult, but (my opinion) it's quite simple. Do as has always been done and plant appropriate people in every side, the masses are easy to influence as long as you have the right people which have the power to sway.'

'Now add to that, just call whatever is inconvenient "fake news", even the ones that are quite real. Call whatever doesn't subscribe to one mode of thinking "pseudo". People speak in this bloody country [USA] about freedom of speech and fighting for it so it's not taken away. What fears are there really for a government or any other agency to take away those rights, when the people themselves have become the revolution against freedom of speech often under the guise of political correctness? Ridiculousness at its finest.'

'I'm not saying, go out and be a chauvinist, racist, sleazy downright despicable human being. Hopefully, people do understand the difference between an attack vs opinion. Right? *crickets from the PC police section*. When someone says they like/don't like something and leave it as that, that's merely an opinion. Why does anyone else care? Oh wait, never mind, I already pointed it out before. "I like Brussels sprouts, a lot of people don't." When someone says [now listen here carefully PC Police, I'm going to show you exactly how similar, no just exactly, you're being to the bigot], "OMG, you papillae-less person! How dare you say that you like Brussels sprouts so openly like that? Take it back, now! Don't ever do it again!". That makes someone a bigot, I used a more ridiculous route, but please change Brussels sprouts to anything, I mean anything, and you will see the same result. See the dichotomy?'

big·ot
ˈbiɡət/
noun
    1    a person who is intolerant toward those holding different opinions.

Yes, it's not just the racist. Places phone away and continues listening: this might make an interesting story. Now, how to write it in a less aggressive manner? Oh, crumbs! He's still speaking.

'So, all those proudly proclaiming the extreme version of political correctness, hold your heads up high and be proud of yourselves, because you just announced yourself as a bigot.'

Proph spoke, ranted, rallied the troops and the little lad went to go look at some anime. He'll rock the boat, that one. Very angry. I'm surprised though. That I hadn't zone out some time during that speech?***