No More Mr. Nice Guy

Russell was getting pretty fed up with the asshole in his rearview mirror. As if the tailgating wasn’t bad enough, the guy driving the little Korean shitbox was oblivious to the fact that he had his high beams on. Of course, had it been up to Russell, he would’ve removed the stupid mirror altogether – the Cybertruck’s live view cameras provided much better visibility than some rinky dink piece of reflective glass. But the babysitters on the transportation safety board thought they knew what was best for everyone, and Russell didn’t feel like arguing a ticket in front of some unelected traffic court judge who probably didn’t know half as much about cars as he did.

Annoying high beams notwithstanding, it had been a pretty good evening. Taylor showed up looking like her profile picture, which was a miracle. It took forever to find a really attractive girl on the apps buried in the garbage dump of pink hair and tattoos and nose rings, but Russell had learned his lesson. Even though his profile made it clear that he was NOT INTO POLITICS, the few times he actually matched with one of those girls, they never failed to spend the whole date blabbing about the latest social justice outrage they’d been force fed by TikTok.

Russell was nice about it at first, especially because he loved playing devil’s advocate. But it quickly became apparent that his efforts were wasted on girls like that, who clearly had never had a real debate in their lives. And anyway, what was the point? Russell would never let his future children be raised by someone who thought he should apologize for being white or male or an independent thinker. And he had seen enough stories from the guys in the dating subreddits to know he wasn’t alone on this one.

Jesus, what was this dipshit’s problem? Russell slowed to 10 below the speed limit just to piss him off, but the guy still didn’t get it. The familiar warmth of aggravation was starting to creep up the back of Russell’s neck and into his ears, but he shook it off. Some people never get it.

Taylor had seemed receptive to the idea of a second date, and why not? She kept talking about how hard it was to meet a nice guy, and that was Russell all over. He opened the door for her, pulled out her chair, picked up the check, and he was charming and funny all night long. There was the thing with the waiter, but what was Russell supposed to do? Medium rare means warm and red in the center with a slightly firm texture. There’s really no room for interpretation, and whatever happened to “the customer is always right?” Especially in front of the customer’s date, for fuck’s sake.

Threatening to yank the guy’s tip put Russell back on top, even if he was just kidding, just trying to keep a lid on the fiery feeling in his head before it got out of control. Of course, the waiter was all offended – you can’t joke about anything anymore. Taylor certainly didn’t have to apologize for him, but whatever. Russell knew that females were genetically coded for attraction to strength and dominance, and that in the end, Taylor’s biology was going to steer her towards an alpha like him and away from soy boys like the waiter, no matter what feminism told her she was supposed to want.

Okay, now this prick was honking? And flashing his lights? What the fuck, dude? Russell’s jaw clenched and he punched the steering wheel a few times, but he managed to get a grip before the burning sensation could fully flood his brain. Time to get off the freeway and ditch this asswipe once and for all.

Ordinarily, he would’ve been annoyed to settle for just a kiss at the end of a date – pretty weak return on a $300 investment – but Russell had to admit that Taylor checked all his boxes. She was family oriented but had no kids of her own. She shared his traditional values, even running the food pantry at her church. Russell didn’t get the appeal of spending your free time catering to a bunch of broke-ass losers who couldn’t hack it as productive members of society but hey, whatever floats your boat. Taylor also had a job in some kind of office, but he couldn’t remember what it was and doubted she’d miss it if things ended up getting serious between them. And of course, there were her physical attributes. They made a really good looking couple and even though it was just a peck on the lips, Russell could tell that Taylor was into it. It wouldn’t take much longer for the nice guy stuff to pay off.

Okay, this fucking guy had to be messing with him. Why else would he follow Russell off the freeway and down the backroads leading to his house? Enough was enough. The heat was thudding behind his eyes now, well on its way to a five alarm blaze. It was bad, maybe the hottest he’d ever felt. Russell slammed on his brakes and yanked the wheel hard to the left. The Cybertruck skidded dramatically to a halt, blocking both lanes of the dark, deserted road. Russell threw his door open and stormed toward the other car.

In a rage, he banged on the driver’s side window, but it was tinted too darkly for him to see inside. Big surprise there, probably some gangbanger trying to carjack the Cybertruck or follow him home and bust into his house. No way, pal. Not tonight. Russell pounded the window harder and harder, the anger swelling inside him until finally he surrendered to its full force in a way he never had before. His wrath was like an inferno now, and it felt so good. It felt righteous.

Suddenly, he noticed a small glow in the window…first orange, then yellow, then white, and steadily increasing in size. Even in his fury, Russell recognized it was a reflection. 

His head was on fire.

The flames spread quickly, engulfing Russell’s entire body in a matter of seconds. A gut-churning stench seared the air, accompanied by a cloud of billowing black smoke. Russell screamed in pain, and stumbled backward onto the asphalt. As the smoke cleared, he could see that the car had vanished, and in its place was a black-cloaked figure on horseback. The horse was black as well, like a void, somehow even darker than the moonless night surrounding them. The animal was snarling and spitting and rearing its head while the rider sat motionless, fully in control, unbothered by his mount’s violent energy.

Desperate to extinguish the flames, Russell tore at his clothes and rolled on the ground, but could find no relief. A long staff materialized in the bony hand of the cloaked figure, and from the end of the staff sprang a curved blade made of fire. Gasping for air, Russell raised his arms in a futile attempt to shield himself, but it was too late. Truthfully, it had been too late for quite some time. 

The figure swung the fiery blade, plunging it deep into Russell’s chest. Russell felt the flames swell, their temperature spiking beyond the point of human endurance. Then came the excruciating sensation of his skin and muscle tissue blistering, then liquifying, then finally crackling into dust.

Bereft now of fuel, the blaze dwindled. As Russell felt the physical pain easing and his consciousness slowly slipping away into the darkness, his last earthly thoughts were of the brutal unfairness of it all.

Why do bad things always happen to nice guys?

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