Young Writers Society

Five Fingers of Fury, or the Death of All Morality.

When you are a man, you always come to a certain age when you start to make discoveries. Most people think that the discoveries happen around the age of twelve, and that it mainly involves touching things you shouldn’t be touching, while thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. What most people don’t know is that a man reaches a certain age when he starts to discover things not involving himself. I started the first discoveries around the age of eleven, partially because of watching too much television, and because I’m a curious guy. I started to do the other set of discoveries almost a month ago… you see, I used to daydream. I used to think about terrorists taking over the school, and I taking a bullet to protect the girls I liked. Only then, she would realize that I liked her, and she would then realize she loved me. Most of the time, I ended up dying like a hero, and the girl would end up in a world of drugs and alcoholism because of not noticing me. But on some, just a few, I would survive, and when I did, I would be venerated like a God, and all the girls would come to me.

Now.

One of the discoveries I made is that you don’t need to take a bullet for a girl to kiss you, or even, let you discover her. Because, I learned, that every woman above the age of twelve is a potential America, just waiting to be found, and named after the one who does. They just need some nice words, some jokes, some laughs, some drinks… or even a pill, but either way, they will submit. Of course, that would seem like a very macho-man thought, but, I ain’t a macho-man. I just tell the truth to the people. I am a realist, that’s what I am. I never lie about facts, if I tell you something: you better believe it. And people do, they believe it. Everyone does. I’m kinda like Hitch, I make it possible for any guy to hook up with anybody, but skipping the whole “classes”. I mean, they don’t need no dancing lessons, or a dialogue for the phone. All they need is the truth about the girl. The truth about the island. Yes, I’m even better than Hitch –without the metro-sexual vibe. However, although I tell the truth, I’m not sure if it’s the… well, if it’s the truth. I had never applied the method. I was quite a moral guy, and I was sick of it. That’s why I decided to kill the morality, and bring forth the fury. It was one in the morning already, and I had already drunk enough. It was time. In my pockets rested the pill, and, as I walked towards her, I could feel it throbbing against my jacket, almost jumping. A smile, that’s all I needed, after that, I would take her to the room. What would happen in the room I could only imagine. The music was getting louder every fifteen minutes, and I was getting sick of it. Techno, trance, everything. Party after party, the same thing. I was tired, I needed a rest -I started to pull her away from her friends, with me- and I was planning to get that rest. I opened the room and closed it when we were both in. And that’s when the voices came.

I looked at her, and she looked at me. This wasn’t a bet, this wasn’t a game. This was a matter of pride; this was a goal. Forget morality, forget the feelings, and forget everything. You’re here, and she’s here, and you’re alone. Slip it in her drink. Don’t be afraid. She’s the one that should be afraid… but she isn’t running. All that is running is sweat against her body. Her smooth body. She’s waiting for you, and you’re standing there like a fool. She’s waiting for the fist. The whole five fingers of fury. I reached down and grabbed her glass, when she was not seeing. I could hear her talk, but didn’t made anything out of her words. Come on, you’re on, man, do it. I reached down my pocket and took out the pill. Did she know? Could she tell? All those people were waiting for me outside, probably trying to hear what was happening inside there. I looked down on the pill and then at the glass. Finally, I looked at her. What was I thinking? Was I really going to do this?

“What are we doing here, George…? Let’s go back…” she moaned, walking to the door. I stepped in front of her. “What?” I didn’t answer. “What do you want to do…?” I just looked at the door, and then at her. The spell broke.

“What? I? Nothing.” I said, nervously. “I just wanted to get away from the party for a while… all the music was murdering my ears. Wasn’t it… murdering yours…?” She just smiled at me and started to move softly, with the rhythm of the music coming from outside the room.

“I never get tired.” She danced around me, but I just followed her with my eyes. She stopped, and glared at me. “C’mon, you seem sad, Georgie. Is Georgie sad?” I chuckled, and she laughed at me. Her eyes said it all. She needed me.

“Look, Mari—

“Let’s dance.” She was drunk. After all, she had been drinking all night. What was I thinking? She didn’t want the five fingers; she didn’t knew what she was doing. If I gave her the pill, the chill pill, I would just be abusing of her. She was my friend. But what about the goal? The summer goal, the summer quest? Forget the quest! What about morality? What about that Jesus guy? He doesn’t approve! Forget morality. Morality is dead. It’s just you, your Buddy, the pill and the five fingers of fury. The whole fist, George. Think about it, the whole five fingers, you promised yourself. She took my hand and started to twirl under it. I took a good look at her; then at the door. I was right… I had promised. No morality. She kept twirling, slowly now, as if she wanted me to check her out. As if? She wanted me to check her out. She wanted me. This wasn’t bout me, this was about making a favor to her. She was shy, that’s all, she just needed a little push, right? And I would get her the push. No, forget the push. She doesn’t even need that push. She stopped the twirling, and almost fell to the ground, engulfed in dizziness. I grabbed her by the arms, tightly, before she lost balanced. “You know, Georgie, you’re a wonderful dancer. Did you know that?” I just softly passed my hands all the way through her shoulders, to her hands, not aware of the question. “Well, did you?” I stopped touching her, almost scared. Scared? Of her? What the heck man? She should be scared of you. You’re the man, you have the pene, the cojones. You have the boloñas grandes! You are El Coronel, George. You have the pill, the fingers. You’re in control. You’re not scared… but I was. I was terrified. My legs were shaking, uncontrollably. I felt as if one could fall any time, as if I was one of those paper puppets, just waiting to be blown away.

“Know what?” I managed to say, not letting her know I was nervous. She giggled at my question, and punched me softly in the chest.

“That you’re a wonderful dancer.” Women relate dancing to sex. That’s what he said in the movie. It’s just a movie. Hey, it’s a pretty damn good movie. No. It was just funny… and good.

“I guess…” I muttered, and gestured to the sofa in the side of the room. “… Let’s sit down…”

“M’kay, but you’ll have to guide me there…” She was really drunk. “I can’t seem to see the… is there a sofa in here…?” I pointed at it. “Oh…” she laughed again. Forget morality, man. I’m telling you, take advantage. Forget the pill, don’t use the pill, she sunk the ship herself. All she needs is your cannonball, dude. Cannonball? What the heck do this things mean? You know exactly what they mean, man. She needs it. Give it to her. Fire, man, just fire. Fire. Fire. Go away. Fire. Fire. Fire. Go the f*ck away! Fire. Fire.

“Are you drunk, Maria…?”

“Is it that obvious?” She collapsed in the sofa, her legs spread open, revealing her underwear. I gulped. Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire. “But I ain’t that drunk, you know? I know exactly what’s going on around this body.” I finally sat besides her, and struggled between putting my hand around her. Fire. Fire. Fire. I didn’t have to think for long, she practically pushed herself under it.

“Um… is that right…?” I said, trying to keep the conversation alive. Morality is as dead as Disco, man. Forget about the alcohol and fire. Fire. Fire. I’m thinking, just stop. Fire. Fire. Stop.

“That’s correcta…” She said, with a bad accent, before laughing out loud. “I am kinda high, though. I had a joint about…” She stared at her watch for almost a minute. “… I can’t read this, but I’d say about half an hour. I’m happy, you know, Georgie boy…? This is the best party ever.” She rested her hand in my leg, while I stared into the blankness. I was going to hell. Taking advantage of a drugged girl? What was I thinking? But wasn’t that what you were going to do with the pill, anyways? No! I wasn’t gonna use the pill. I pussied out. You pussied out. Yes, yes I did. “I would probably do anything you told me right now, you know, cause I’m… sooooo… high.” She started to bend. I removed my arm from her shoulders. I couldn’t do this. No, no, yes you can. No, I can’t. Fire, man! She’s giving you all the signs! Morality is coming back. No, no it can’t. Morality is already dead, if it came back it would be like a zombie moral, and that’s messy, dude, so sleep with her. What was I thinking? Where did you come from? I’m you, man. You want the same things that I do. We are the same. Morality is coming back. “And you wouldn’t believe how dry my tongue is… look…” She showed it to me. Fire. Fire. Fire. Morality is dying again, isn’t it? No… No. “Wanna feel it…? Touch it with yours.” I froze. This was it. The moment of decision. An awkward silence invaded the room, and the music could be no longer heard. As if everybody in the world was holding their breath for my decision… until it broke. Everything returned.

“I…” I started, choosing my words. She placed her tongue inside her mouth again, and licked her lips. I hated myself. You hate me. I do. Morality’s a bitch.

“Is my tongue that ugly?” she asked me, almost offended. I shook my head, without talking.

“No… it’s great…” I managed to say. “You’re great, Maria… But I gotta go. It’s just that… something came back.” I stood up as fast as I could and didn’t look back as I walked towards the door, and opened it. Three people, grinning, were waiting behind it. Their smiles soon turned into looks of disappointment. What about the Five Fingers of Fury? What about the fist? All the stuff we were gonna have? Something came up. I told you to screw morality. That thing only plays with you, man. It doesn’t exist. Morality’s dead since the sixties. Dead as Elvis. Dead as Elvis? Dead as Elvis. Well, Elvis isn’t dead, he just returned where he belonged. “Georgie…?” I forgot her name walking out of the party, and Moby was as harder than ever.

It’s not about sex. It’s not about love either. That’s just a human concept; which, by the way, doesn’t exist. You can like a person very much, and say, you love him. However, between her, and Pampita, there’s no choice at all. Its just lust. Therefore, it’s not about love. It’s about lust. It’s about when lust beats morality. It’s about when morality beats lust. It’s about reconsideration and feelings. It’s about me, and smaller me. It’s about the voices in my head. It’s about her. It’s about us. It’s about the Five Fingers of Fury, and the Death of all Morality.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OK, first of all, this is not really a romantic story. You have the last paragraph to prove that. It's actually, I think, a comedy. But not really. I just figured, hell, it's your typical boy meets girl in a party-boy wants to drug and rape girl-boy regrets his actions and pussies out-story. So, I posted it here.

Also, it used to be PG-13, but I raised it to a R, due to people's requests. I still think it should be a PG-13, though.

Anyways, what do you think?