The Intellectual Barbarian: The Unhinged Trilogy, #1

A Reputed Scholar’s Introduction to The Intellectual Barbarian

The crux of great literature is something that was once described by William Shakespeare as words. Words can be arranged to create what Jane Austen referred to as sentences and compiled into what James Joyce called paragraphs. You will find all of these feats of literature in this slim volume.

This collection by Alec Caldwell is, in theory, a work of humour. I will admit that I did chuckle now and then as I read the collected stories. But despite these moments of levity, I consider this collection to be an overwrought failure; for the author has failed to resolve the decades-old question: Does existential theory lead to an inherently antagonistic understanding of The Other through a purely metaphysical understanding of one’s self? You will not find the answer to that question in these pages. You will, however, find it in my new book, Theories on Existential Ontology From 1945-2020, which has already become highly influential in academic circles.

I was also disappointed to see that Alec barely demonstrates a grasp of how humour functions in the post-postmodern post-textual era of the 2020s. Also, he’s charging money for this book. That makes him a capitalist, and therefore, a bad person.

However, I am not embarrassed to call Alec one of my former students. Mostly because I have had thousands of students and many of them were extremely talented. Countless among them have had extraordinary lives. So, another thoroughly mediocre writer is of no concern to my reputation. Still, I am glad to elevate this volume with my thoughtful introduction in my unique style of elegant prose, and Alec should be thankful too.

Respectfully,

Dr. Reginald Fitz-Fauntleroy, PhD.

Chair of the Department of English Literature, Sheaffe University.

Axe-Murderers’ Gorge

If you go to high school or college in Merrittville and you haven’t made out with someone in Merrittville Gorge, you’re probably a loser. All the cool kids make out there. They don’t care about the legend that the place is haunted by a bloodthirsty axe-murderer. In fact, that makes it hotter and a better place to make out on Halloween, and it’s still popular on Valentine’s Day too.

I’ve noticed all this because I spend a lot of time in the Gorge. You see, I’m the legendary axe murderer who hunts in it.

Yes, I’m a serial killer, but I’m also a great guy. I volunteer at an animal shelter. I recycle. As in, I sort my recycling and wash all my containers out first. I just have uncontrollable urges to kill people sometimes and this place is really secluded. I try to only kill people who seem like jerks. Like the guys I overhear asking for naked pictures from a girl they’ve just fooled around with. People who talk about The Bachelor. Or how their Instagram account is practically community service since it’s helping and inspiring so many people around them. Most of my victims deserve it.

Yet, being an axe-murderer in the Gorge isn’t as solitary and relaxing as you might think it is. Let me explain.

One night, I was out there hunting as usual, when I came across a couple sitting on a log in the moonlight. The city lights winked in the distance. It would have been silent if the boy hadn’t been so busy talking about his band that he was missing every inviting signal the girl was sending. She was wearing a CALL HER DADDY t-shirt. I knew this would be easy pickings.

But I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I crouched behind a stump and surveyed the scene. Taking your time is important in this line of work. If you make a move too soon, you might get spotted. If you wait too long, they’ll be doin’ it and there’s no thrill in sneaking up on them. I was waiting for their first kiss before I went for the homerun swing. Easy does it, I cautioned myself. They were looking into each other’s eyes... just about...

Oh, goddamn it!

I heard tremendous thunderous footsteps from the underbrush to the east. Terrible luck, plain and simple. Dante was on the hunt and he found my target. I had to beat him to it! The kids leapt up at the commotion and were both looking in the direction Dante’s racket was coming from. The guy didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the girl’s hand and ran like hell into the woods. I leapt out from my hiding spot and took a wild swing at where they were sitting, but I was far too late. They were gone and didn’t look back. That meant I hadn’t been seen. Thank God. Getting caught would suck. I’d rather lose my prey than have to move again. The commotion also meant I had to talk to Dante. Which was never fun. So, I braced for him as I attempted to tug my axe from where it was stuck in the log.

Sure enough, Dante burst through the brush, his axe hanging languidly in his hand, his tattered overalls grimy and stinking fiercely, and with his trademark potato sack over his head, tied around the neck with twine. Dante’s lumbering slowed as he saw me standing alone by the log. He stopped and stared down at me through the holes in his sack. STEALER! he rumbled, his roaring voice muffled slightly by his potato sack.

Hello Dante, I said, finally wrenching my axe out of the log. And no. I saw them before you even got here. But I really need this and this is a huge gorge, so you can find another couple for yourself.

Dante growled. VICTOR STOP STEALING FROM DANTE. THIS DANTE’S HUNTING GROUND.

I’ve been hunting here for years. It’s because of my legendary reputation that so many idiot teenagers come here to make out. Go hunt in the bog or the quarry or something.

VICTOR NOT SHARE. GREEDY. NOT KILL PROPERLY.

And how do I not kill properly, exactly?

Dante jutted out his chin and rested his axe on his massive shoulder. VICTOR FOLLOW PEOPLE LIKE LITTLE PUPPY. NO REAL HUNT. NO REAL KILL.

Well, your ‘real’ hunting is getting in my way! Your crashing around through the woods scares off the people I’m trying to hunt!

DANTE HERE FOR REVENGE. VICTOR KILL FOR FUN. REVENGE BETTER REASON.

And why do you want revenge?

DANTE LOST EVERYTHING.

Sorry you went through that. Did you want to talk about it?

NO. IT WEIRD YOU WOULD OFFER.

Fuck you! I’m just trying to make you feel better!

THEN VICTOR STOP STEALING WITH HIS WEAK LITTLE-GIRL-STYLE KILLS!

I threw my hands up. I’m not! You’re the one being a pain in the ass!

DANTE FIGHT VICTOR FOR GORGE.

Try it!

We didn’t end up fighting, and we’ve never wanted to since that night. We stopped because we heard a rustling in some leaves to my left.

By the increasing volume and decreasing vocabulary in this conversation, I suspect there will be an altercation in the next thirty seconds if I don’t intervene, a silky and almost songlike voice called from the foliage.

Oh balls.

Sure enough. The third axe-murderer of the evening, Dr. Hermann Bell, stepped through the brush as delicately as if he were walking on a ballroom floor. He was carrying his straitjacket over his shoulder as if it were a dinner jacket and was carrying a wickedly sharp axe in his other hand.

Escaped again, have you? I asked.

My dear boy, I leave my confines most evenings. This evening, I felt like a walk in the woods. But as long as neither of you draw attention to us being here... his eyes narrowed, although he continued smiling. I’ll come and go as I please for the rest of my days.

VICTOR STEALING, Dante said.

I heard your conversation, thank you, Dr. Bell said. I agree it is getting crowded around here. Whatever you two work out between yourselves, I would like to be able to stay. This is the easiest secluded place to get to from the asylum.

Why should we accommodate you? I asked.

What is convenient for me is advantageous to you. If anyone realizes I’ve left, then there will be a manhunt, and things will be far less peaceful and secluded around here. People might not venture out, even after they give up on the manhunt. There goes your hunting ground.

DANTE KILL YOU BOTH. DANTE BEST AXE-KILLER IN GORGE!

Please. Between you and me, Dante is an appalling axe-murderer. I get along with him well enough now, but I’m pretty sure his axe isn’t even sharp. He might as well be using a club. I’m the reason people fear the Gorge, by the way. Not him. I’ve been killing people and leaving their corpses hidden in swamps around here since Obama was president.

Meanwhile, Dante’s whole shtick of bursting through shrubs and lumbering at people is a great opening, but it always gives his victims tons of time to run away. I doubt he’s killed more than three people in the year he’s been hunting here.

The combination of Dante’s stubbornness and Dr. Bell’s silky arrogance finally made me lose my cool. I turned and chucked my axe at a nearby tree, where it stuck fast in the trunk.

Okay! Enough! If you two think you’re better than me and deserve this gorge, we should figure out who should have it, fair and square.

Are you suggesting we all try to kill each other? Dr. Bell asked, already planning the fight in his head like a chess game, I figured.

DANTE WINS!

No, I snapped. We make tonight a contest. A free-for-all. Whoever catches and kills the most people tonight gets exclusive use of the Gorge. In two hours, we meet at Merritt Lake—

It’s technically a pond, my boy, but continue.

I scowled at Dr. Bell. It was tempting to just kill him right there. But he was probably ready for me. Axe-murderers are hard to trust. Especially when they’re being competitive. Before I could retort, Dante decided to chime in, WHAT DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LAKE AND POND?

I wasn’t sure if I was more annoyed by the question or the fact that I didn’t know the answer. Dr. Bell’s grin widened. I will tell you, my good man, when we toast Victor getting relegated to another hunting ground. Good evening gentleman; see you in two hours!

He turned and strode off into the darkness. I left without a word.

I combed the forest for the next hour and didn’t find anyone. I also didn’t hear any screams or see any blood anywhere, so I figured Dante and Dr. Bell were having terrible luck as well.

With ten minutes to go, I was ready to just give up. All I’d found was some poor Christian girl praying in the forest for her brother to recover from cancer. I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. Actually, I consoled her and advised her to get the hell out of there since there might be an axe-murderer at large and I called her an Uber. After that, I wandered around, looking for movement in the moonlight and listening for prey. Nothing.

Suddenly, I got an unnerving feeling. The sense that I was being hunted. I couldn’t shake it no matter where I went or how fast I walked. I went off the trails and tried to move silently through the brush. I could still feel someone’s eyes on me. I had a very good idea whose eyes they were. Once I was well-hidden in the brush, I stopped in my tracks and listened in the dark to see if my suspicions were correct.

It turned out they were.

After a few moments of waiting, Dr. Bell slipped through the forest, axe in hand, scanning the darkness for me. He wasn’t hunting for teenagers to win the contest. He was hunting me. He followed my trail up to where I was hiding and stopped. Well, Victor, he said. This is checkmate. Will you surrender like a gentleman?

I tightened my grip on my axe. No way in hell I’d surrender to that lunatic. I stood perfectly still and waited. He was arrogant. He’d make a careless mistake. He had to. He took a step toward where I was hiding and was in striking distance. I tensed and sprang.

He was waiting for it. He raised his axe just as I swung mine down and managed to block the blow. He twisted his hand and yanked my axe from my grip. It landed somewhere in the darkness and I knew I was finished. The only thing left to do was turn and run. Dr. Bell knew it too, and he lunged forward, swinging his axe in a wide arc. It passed less than an inch from my face as I stumbled backwards. Dr. Bell staggered, snarling, from the force of his empty swing. I turned and as ran as fast as I could.

I will kill you, Victor! Dr. Bell’s screams echoed through the trees. I will catch you and I will kill you!

My heart thundered in my chest as I ran, and I realized that I believed him. He would catch me and kill me before the night was up. He was a killing machine and was unstoppable. I ran anyway, my legs aching and my lungs on fire. Aware he could only be a few steps behind me.

My luck had to run out soon, running in the dark off the path. I had to trip or collide with something sooner or later. Sure enough, I tripped over a root and was sent sprawling, hitting my head on a rock as a bonus. My vision swam, but I could hear Dr. Bell moving through the brush towards me. I looked up and saw two of him, weaving between each other. I was going to die. I was sure of it.

Then I heard a rumbling in the distance.

Dante!

He crashed through the brush and saw me lying on the ground and Dr. Bell standing over me, axe raised for the killing blow. Everyone was still for a moment. CHEATER! Dante boomed. DOCTOR MAN CHEAT AT GAME!

Before Dr. Bell could reply, Dante swung his enormous axe with blinding speed and cut Dr. Bell down. I guess his axe was sharp after all. I tried to stagger to my feet, but I was too much of a mess to manage it. Dante surprised me once more by grabbing me with his free hand and hauling me to my feet. I managed not to throw up and leaned against a tree while the world settled down around me.

I don’t know how to thank you, I said.

GIVE GORGE TO DANTE.

Oh. I mean, I suppose. "We can talk