Dolomite is back, and boy has he got a story for you. Like many people in this great country of ours, I enjoy the idea of a cool beer and a good program on the television. That program can be anything from sports, to cartoons, to a movie, to a porn. It really doesn’t matter, all that matters is that there is beer and quality television. Add a LazyBoy recliner to the mix, and you got heaven (especially if the beer is in bottles, that way you don’t have to even get up to pee).
     Apparently, some people on this campus of mine have a different idea of heavenly joy. The most obvious bunch are the wannabe devil worshippers. I am not talking about the good wiccan folk that practice in the seclusion of their own homes and meeting houses. I am talking about those damn, poser goth kids that think Marilyn Manson is the anti-Christ and that vampirism is a cool thing. These are the people who think that if they get pale enough, weird enough, and secluded enough, they are going to be cool despite the horrible other cool people that litter the campus with their tans and partying and whatnot.

     It happened one evening at the cafeteria, where my work-study job is located. I was serving up the steak that night and enjoying the people as much as I could. It’s not that I hate my job, I just don’t like it very much. Anyways, I suddenly hear a big commotion in the dining room of the cafeteria and the fire alarms are going off like crazy. I thought nothing of the fire alarms because the damn school has been “testing” them out all week long, every five minutes one of them go off. The commotion is what made me move, after all it is nearing the end of the year and people begin to think that food fights will be allowed since they are seniors and leaving anyways. As I get into the dining area of the cafeteria, I see a bunch of smoke coming from one table in the back. Walking over, I can only think that some asshole is smoking in this room again, either too too drunk or too stoned to know that he is not in Eat N’ Park. What I saw made me stop in my tracks.
     There were five of them, most would be what you would call unattractive (if you felt like being kind). They were all as pale as could be, even if it took some makeup to look paler. All had black hair, colored darker to make them look paler. They were huddled around their table, “chanting” to the pile of steaks that were piled up in the middle. They had lit the steaks on fire, my guess being that the steaks were the “sacrifice” in this particular ritual of theirs. After standing there for nearly a full minute, one of them looks in my direction.
     “Begone human, tonight belongs to us,” he said with all the sincerity in the world. “We are the chosen few, and shall offer ourselves up to Him as a show of our trust in Him, the Dark Lord Satan,” he continued in his little sermon.
     It is moments like this that I hate people. I do not mean that in the climb the clock tower with a rifle sort of way, I merely mean not feeling bad when one of these jackasses accidentally gets hit by a bus sort of way. I calmly swallowed that hate into the growing ball of anger in my stomach. I was on the clock and had to try to be nice to these people. “Hey guys, why don’t you put the fire out and move this little slice of Hell outside before someone takes one of the fire alarms seriously. After all, this is a place to eat food, not offer it to you Dark Lord and Master.” I have never forced a smile on my face that much since I had to deal with a Jesus Freak a year ago. Why do religious fanatics always manage to find me?
     “You mock us because you are not one of us. You are jealous that we are the chosen. Leave us be before the wrath of our Dark Lord is brought upon you,” said the obvious leader of the group. None of the other little goth kids seemed to be saying much. But again, I had to try to be kind.
     “Look pal, I do not care a bit for your Dark Lord or whatever his wrath could do to me. Put out the fire now and no one will be punished for this little incident. I do not really want to have to be a part of any paper work or what not. I am all for religious freedom and equality. Practice whatever you want, but try not to disturb others with it. Are you going to move this little thing outside or not?”
     “Why are you still here? Leave before I drink your blood,” said the little vamp in what he thought was a threatening voice.
     I look back to the rest of the people and my manager. Everyone seemed to be thinking about Columbine at this point in time, considering none of the jocks or partiers wanted to get near the trench-coat wearing bastards. My manager, ever trying to avoid confrontation, signaled that security was going to be another fifteen minutes. With all of the cowards surrounding me, the loud fire alarms going off in every direction, and the smugness of this little wannabe fucker in front of me, my ball of anger broke, Dolomite style.
     I left the dining room. I am not a spineless bastard, but I believe in some form of order. I took off my smock, my latex gloves, my name pin, and my work hat. I punched out and headed for the sink. I grabbed the biggest bucket I could find, and filled it with boiling hot water. Marching back into the dining room, the waves of people simply parted, then moved closer because, like any crowd, they could sense that the action was going to heat up. I took one deep breath, then splashed the bucket of hot water all over the table. Then before any of the drenched and slightly burned goth kids could say anything other than “Hey”, I declared in the loudest voice I could, “Get the fuck out of my dining room, out of my fucking cafeteria, and take ever bit of you poser gear with you. If I ever see even one of you here again, I will personally bring down the wrath of my god onto you! Do you hear that you little bitches?”
     “Why did you do that,” sobbed the one girl as she tried to keep her composure as an uncaring she-devil.
     “What’s wrong, doesn’t the Wicked Witch of the West like water? Are you going to start melting now?” I tauntingly say in one of the more sarcastic voices I have ever managed to pull off.
     “You bastard. I am going to eat your soul tonight, cafeteria boy!” screams the lead goth as he gets up from the table. He manages to take one swing at me and actually does connect. I made no move to avoid it. It felt like a little slap, mostly because he had no idea how to throw a punch. I felt bad for the guy. He actually believed in what he said. I should probably go soft on him, and just let him go with what little dignity he has left.
     Crack! Then again, that little bastard filled my dining room with smoke, smugly ignored me, and called me cafeteria boy. He had called down the thunder, and I was more than willing to produce. I quickly grabbed him by the shoulders and drove my knee into his spine, through his stomach. He fell down like dead weight. God, I hate posers.
     Everyone else started to move in, thinking that this was the time to beat up these guys for disturbing their meals. I turn around and announce to everyone, “the show’s over folks. Go back to eating your food while we, the staff, remove the garbage on the floor here. Security should be around in a few moments to collect the rest of the group. And if they ask you what happened, tell them the truth. However, whatever happens outside of this cafeteria is none of my business.” With that I gave a big shit-eating grin, and so too did most of the jocks in the room.
     With everyone now settled down and returning to their seats, security finally decides to come in. Asking what happened and flashing their shiny security badges, they loudly announce that they want to know what is going on. No one in the dining room moves. Being the only caf. worker in the room, I quickly wave them over. Again, they loudly demand to know what happened here. I decide to tell them the truth. “That guy on the ground was leading some kind of weird ceremony with these other goth kids that involved setting steaks on fire. With all the smoke and commotion, I politely asked them to put out the fire and if possible move the cermony outside where no one will be hurt. He refused. I asked again, using a little more force in my voice, but trying to remain polite and courteous. Again he refused. I finally threw a glass of water onto the fire to put it out before it spread. He got up, took a swing at me. I simply reacted at that point and hit him in the stomach, mostly to get him to sit back down. I guess I might of hit him harder than I thought. I am sorry about that.”
     The two security guards looked at the scene. The guy was still out cold on the floor. The other goths were just starting to shiver from the water. Everyone else was studying their food like there was an exam on it tomorrow. “Okay, that sounds good enough to me. You can go home kid, you were just defending yourself. We’ll take care of the rest here.” With a smile, I left the room. My manager quickly followed me into the back room, were we both started laughing like crazy.
     Later, from what I heard around the cafeteria, security did jackshit. They told the other goth kids to leave the cafeteria. The lead goth, who name was Roy or something, had to do five hours of community service for disorderly conduct. That was it. God, I hate posers.