Shotgun Shelley

It's good to be loved

She was the golden child with her streaming brown hair and richly tanned face. Her eyes were deep and dreamy, shining with the light of life. Shelley was but a teenager then; a prom queen, a cheerleader and everyone's sweetheart. Parents hailed her as a role model, teachers marveled at her excellence, her priest praised her devotion. At this high point of success, Shelley felt she could be an inspiration to others, to show them the Way to life and happiness. There was only one small problem with that idea: she couldn't stay in high school the rest of her life.

The light in her was true but the seduction had begun. Shelley took hold of her self-claimed Mission From God to lead others to the promised land - especially since she feared if she really did try to be herself in the big, bad world she'd find out she was nothing much after all. But she was not nothing, but everything. Energy radiated from her like a starburst, her footsteps leaving glowing marks behind. "Yes," she said, "the answer is yes." In love she did believe - if not commitment.

But the drug of High Praise was already taking effect, weakening her, whispering in her ear. "Rare is the soul who makes love work! Who are you to think you are one such as this? Do not risk your praise by following your own path. You have your followers to think about!" Once she had thought: "I must keep the light to keep the praise" but that changed now, perverted to: "I must keep the praise to keep the light." Not so very different, she hoped.

In college, she waited for the Magic Answer, to define her golden path to victory. Anxiously she noted some of her "lessers" in high school thrived and blossomed in the great collegiate arena. Would they steal some of her precious praise? How were they ever true believers? Wasn't she still the One? Shelley's eyes narrowed upon them: to take her praise was to endanger her Holy Mission. Had they no regard for God!

Shelley's ideal: A sexy nun!

In College she met a Concrete Man of the world who had Definite Things the world could praise. But she despised those who clung to worldly values for their worth. She knew of dreams and the worth of dreams and with dreams lay her fealty, by God! But what if she didn't make her dreams work? Like the seduction of the Holy Mission, Concrete Man whispered and cajoled in her ears to entice the chains of doubt. "Put on these cuffs of marriage," he hissed. "You can always take them off later." In her retelling of it, Shelley said she got over her initial revulsion of him because it was true love.

And now...the real world. No one gave a damn how many cartwheels she could do - unless it was some guy just out to fuck her. The Dreamless hated her for ever having dreams. The Passionless couldn't wait to see her dead. And the Responsible Ones wondered if she'd wake up in time. For the first time, pain came to visit her. "I still have my dreams, I can feel them and I love them. Is what I'm doing really so bad? I can always start following my own path!" But the reality was she was more desperate than ever, choked by the chains of an unholy matrimony, wondering just who the hell she was.

Time passed, but the pain did not, worrying her into despair, until finally she did something she had not done in years: gave an earnest prayer. "Dear God, I must know! Am I really something or am I really nothing? It's killing me to not know! I can't stand the thought of being a divorcee. What would people say of me then? How could I do your will of showing them the Way if they find out my life is lie?" Afterwards, the couple moved to a new town and a new life to start anew - and that's when she met her True Believer.

At last! I've found you!

The True Believer saw her dreams, was inspired by them, dazzled by them, overwhelmed by them, never the same would he be. Dreams such as hers marked a soul for life. Fretting and dying himself, he wondered how he himself could ever be worth those dreams. But he too saw the ailing of her dreams, knowing he was the perfect medicine. Yet the whispers in his ears hissed as well. "You're just imagining it, she doesn't need you at all. It's merely wishful thinking!" Each too scared to touch the other, they parted in unspoken tears - but the damage had been.

And thus was born Shotgun Shelley.

With the sweet taste of life the True believer brought - now gone forever - tenderness turned to terror. "Yes, your dreams are going to die! Who will love you then? How does salt regain its taste?" Driven from her bed in midnight madness, she grabbed the shotgun while heading out the door. Shelley couldn't get that word "dreamless!" out of her mind, chasing her down the street no matter how fast she ran. Her eternal soul lay on the line, doomed by a lie she could not escape. "My life is not a waste!"

Heaving in sweat, hair a mess from the running, she ended up in the park where a homeless man slept in an uneasy pose on a bench. Her first thought: "Isn't that illegal??" Who the hell could ever love you? You have no possible hope! You can't even sleep right!! But were her thoughts of herself or the homeless sleeper? One thing she knew for sure: "I've got a house and you don't, you piece of shit!" Then: Click-Click-BAM! and the houseless menace was disposed of.

Watch out, losers!

Church that Sunday was a momentous occasion. Shelley the approval junkie feared she never see her supplier again. Her teary eyes of an almost confession moved her pastor to sacrosanct sanction. "I can see clearly your devotion [to your addiction] is true! And I can see you earnestly wish to believe in [your made up bullshit] the Way. Trust in God [fraud] and know that you are an inspiration to others [to vomit]." And thus two people comforted one another having spoken not one word of truth.

Two choices had Shelley: to come clean, admit her life was a failure and her mission a smokescreen, or she could keep on going as Shotgun Shelley, blowing to pieces the Unworthy and Unloved. She wanted neither - but the twisting in her mind never rested in its torment and without relief she'd go visibly insane. Visible Insanity: her horror of horrors. In resigned ecstasy she found her solution: killing the Unworthy allows me to keep up my godly appearance, which allows me to keep alive my Holy Mission of leading others to life!

Shelley knew all society's blind spots, hunting them daily in printed paper and taunted TV. The rejected, the scorned, the witches of the day - her roving eye zeroed in on them all. She knew the sheep could not afford to care about the Unwanted after first having declared them Obsolete and a Stain upon society. And to her luck and amazement, the ranks of the unwanted swelled daily - seems her society had the same needs as she. Click-Click-BAM! repeated the gun of Shotgun Shelley - sometimes the death not even reported!

Prettier by the day

It was in a quiet moment, in her weekly get-together when she reigned once more as high school queen and princess that Shelley finally betrayed herself. Her head, suffering from the increasing number of truth she repressed, literally started expanding, and her eyebrows arched into permanently vexed positions and the corners of her mouth constantly trembled downwards. Over time, these traits marred her quite noticeably, forcing one of Shelley's friend to remark on it. But the voice of criticism was a long time foe of Shelley.

"Don't worry," she dismissed in her best Gloria Swanson, "my fans will never notice."

Subtly over time, her friends started distancing from this ordinary, everyday madwoman, but Shotgun Shelley is still out there, looking for those with social flaws or personal peccadilloes branded by a world falling ever further into its own disdain, crucifying Jesus on every corner, hoping that if they do it enough times it will somehow make it turn out right. And though at times outrage occurred after one of her killings, none dare stop her. For many are her followers, equally trapped by false hopes of proving their worthiness by squishing people like bugs.

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