The Destiny And Life Of The Lone Wolf

Whenever she messaged or spoke, his blood would flow quicker and make his heart pump the fluid faster to his brain, producing sensations that caused him to smile and imagine things like dancing and holding hands, frolicking around beaches or mountains, or surfing together atop a giant wave on its way to wipe out entire cities, leaving them unscathed as they would ride the wave, subsiding onto a hilltop cottage miraculously stacked with life giving supplies like mineral water, firewood and matchsticks and organic fruits and vegetables. It was incredible and so peaceful that he wished their talks would go on forever. Alas, things like social circles always intervened, leaving him to revel in the memories that were formed organically.

It was fucking incredible. He could smile dazedly for minutes just imagining the energies that radiated between them. He wasn’t sure how much of it would be reciprocated, though clarity would come soon, he was sure of that. She was pretty straight-forward. On a day she hadn’t turned up, he had found himself whispering words to himself as he made his way to pour himself some green tea, and then pretending she was sitting opposite him on the same table they had shared a couple of days back while reminiscing about fitness, their parents, orthodoxy, religion and how popular culture had been shaped to become an entity where originality didn’t matter anymore, but rather a bastion of wannabes, people who weren’t being true to their individual selves, content to be shaped by the trends around them, like passing fads.

Around four in the afternoon, while buying brown bread from a departmental store nearby, he had received disapproving looks from a couple of elderly women and one gentleman for grooving to Rage against the Machine’s Renegades of Funk within the direct eyesight of approximately six people. As he had caught their eyes, he had smiled, only for their disapproving looks to turn into frowns, as if he had somehow violated their sanctity. He had switched the song to Slipknot’s People = Shit, an appropriate choice considering the circumstances he had just witnessed. As the opening riff reverberated across his ear drums, he felt like scaring the people inside by screaming and laughing at them madly and chasing them with razors as they ran for their lives. It was fucking incredible, the things he was capable off, anyone for that matter.

Like, a lone wolf terrorist.

Not that he wanted to be one. As far he was concerned, the only lone wolf act he would be causing was sneakily mix a pound of powdered hash into the recipes meant for a wedding feast or something similar, and then watch the mayhem of laughter and mischief unfold. He would then instigate a mob to embark on throwing gravies of curry and spice on each other, including pushing the bridegroom headlong into a tub full of cold cow milk. It would be fucking incredible, a tale for the press to cover vociferously, thereby setting a benchmark for weddings worldwide, the only thing being missing, a full scale orgy.

He was a peaceful person with no intention of causing any harm to anyone, from animals to human beings alike. The crux, the entire premise of liberalism was based on live and let live, to be open minded and accepting of every culture and practice of any kind, as long as they weren’t causing harm to anybody. He believed in this ideal sincerely because it made a lot of sense to him, even if it didn’t to may others for the simple reason that they hadn’t been exposed to such line of thinking in their social circles, withholding themselves to the thoughts and opinions basis their external stimuli rather than come up with fresh original thoughts for themselves and the perspective through which they saw the world around them shape up.

Before winding up to head home, he checked in on her messages and smiled once more.

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