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The Good Ole Digital Saloon

Updated on May 4, 2020
Kyler J Falk profile image

I aspire to publish a Scifi/Fantasy novel series one day, perhaps a graphic novel series. Until then articles will suffice.



A man walked into the digital saloon one day, quiet as a mouse he took his seat at the bar. The bartender walked up to the man as he polished a glass and asked in a hoarse voice, "What're ya drinkin', buddy?"

The man responded, "I'll take a double of fair and impartial perspective. You know what? Make that quadruple!"

"We don't serve that trash here, I'll do you one better," and the bartender poured a glass of Performative Cruelty which spilled all over the bar as he did so, "this one is on me!"

The bartender went back to polishing his glasses, and the man sipped on the strange beverage. The bottle read, "Performative Cruelty," but the drink tasted like "Is Karen the New N-Word" and the man mulled over the many layers to the taste and aroma of this new experience.

Just as the man was finishing his drink, in walked a group of six of the regular patrons. They all took a seat at the bar where the man was now chuckling to himself about this silly drink he had just ingested.



Having now taken notice of the man and his chuckling, the group of six turned their scrutinizing eyes toward the man and the most boisterous of them asked sternly, as if to scold, "What the hell are you laughing at?"

The man responded, "Oh, I just tried this drink called Performative Cruelty, and one of the layers to the aroma tickled my funny bone! Something like Karen being equated to the N-word. You believe that?"

All except the boisterous one in the bunch chuckled as they recalled having tasted the aroma; the boisterous brute was not amused by the taste and aroma at all.

"That aroma comes from the PC social media crowds of WEIRDOS, I don't drink that shit!" said the boor in an angry, self-righteous tone, and so did the other five shrink their heads down in tacit agreement.

"Woah there," the man said to the boor, who now seemed to be fuming at the ears and frothing at the mouth, "could we not call people weirdos? There are better ways to present your opinions. This isn't preschool."

The brutish head of the group stormed out of the saloon, pouting and moaning angrily as they did so, stomping their feet as they went, "Aren't you sweet to feel you must babysit an older man such as me? Well I'll never be back to this saloon!"

Little did the man know that the foolish oaf would be back, but even less expected was everyone's defense of this man's ridiculous behavior. Something heinous was about to come this man's way.



One of the five stood up and followed the brutish one out, shaking their head in disinterest and bewilderment. The other four crowded around the man, who was now confused as to what was occurring, and then they threw him off of the bar stool to the floor.

"How dare you tell someone not to call other people weirdos!?" one yelled with fervor.

"An absolutely ridiculous request, what were you thinking you inconsiderate trash!?" another shrieked as they kicked the man in the ribs.

"Yeah, you absolute dumb dumb!" the simplest of the bunch echoed in ignorance as they spit on the man.

"Well you know what they say, better to not show your emotions and then tell everyone how strong you are for not doing so!" the final of the bunch said as they chuckled to themselves and left the saloon to never be seen again.

For over twenty-four hours this man would be told how ridiculous he was for asking the brute not to call others weirdos, getting smashed with bottles and fists and told how irrational and hypersensitive he was being. Then the brute would return against their claims to have left forever.

The Killing Blow

Upon the brute's return they were holding the man's family hostage.

"Hey loser," the boor yelled out and their cohorts stepped away from his bruised and bleeding body, "see what happens when you tell people not to make fun of other people?!"

This disgusting individual made the man watch as he slit the throat of his girlfriend, and stomped on the head of his son. It was no longer just a simple rage, this demon of a human was out to cause as much damage as they could.

Luckily the man remembered this was just a digital saloon, and everything in it was worthless to him; he could disconnect from the nonsense and walk away at any time. However, the man noticed some hard liquor spilled on the floor from when he fell, it was that Performative Cruelty stuff, and he had a match. He sneakily pulled the match out of his pocket and set the saloon ablaze, and just like that he disconnected and was gone as everyone stood in the fires they influenced.

What'd We Learn?

The only lesson I have learned from this entire ordeal is that people are extremely unreasonable, unfair, and partial. Most unfortunately, unless the individual is sitting right in front of you and not behind the safety of a screen, then you can't trust them or share even a single intimate detail of your life. If you do, well then you'll be labeled as, "asking for it," and this is a theme all too common in so many facets of life.

I hope we all move forward having learned something progressive, but I don't have high hopes for many!


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