Matthis as literature

Long time readers may remember several months ago when one of Matthis Chiroux’s girlfriends started feeding us stories about the true nature of Matthis. Of course, his fan club showed up and criticized us for using anonymous sources (like the kind of sources real journalists use) to disparage poor Matthis. Well, the thing is, I knew who the source was, and I checked out her story as best I could before I published her story here.

She told me that she was working on a book that included some of her experiences with Chiroux but that I should keep that quiet for the time being. I honored that request.

A few weeks ago, I’d heard from someone else that one of Chiroux’s ex-girl friends was writing a book so it was becoming common knowledge and I mentioned it in passing on previous post.

Well, my source emailed me this morning (I’m still keeping her identity quiet, at least until the book comes out) and sent me some excerpts of the book. I put them below the jump because they’re really NSFW.

1.) I lowered my gaze to Max.
“YOU FUCKING COWARD!” I screamed and lunged forward. Clarity. Then darkness. Then clarity. And then darkness.
Rage was a wonderful tool for blindness.

2.) “I never trusted him in the first place,” [Rachel] said. “I told her too. Damn, what a mess.”
“Nobody trusts him,” I muttered. “That was where I went wrong. You know, I’ve always deemed myself a good judge of character. I pride myself on it. I can read people’s eyes. But his words, his words were what clouded my judgment. His eyes never spoke the truth, but he so adamantly called himself my friend. Over and over.”

3.) “You are not setting foot into this apartment until you get down on your knees and apologize!” he shrieked, throwing his chest out and pointing his finger to the floor.

I laughed out loud.

“Apologize for what?! I came here to gather my belongings.”

I swept past him. My sneakers were the first target.

“For domestic abuse, that’s what!” he screamed.

“You deserved every hit you got, you traitor.”

“You’re a fucking bitch!” he yelled, staring down with triumph. “I don’t even want my cock inside you!”

I stood back momentarily. It was astonishing that in the midst of an argument stemming from such an intricate web of human emotions and contending the very idea of friendship, he was able to lower the standard to his filthy genitals.

“I don’t want your ugly cock inside of me anyway,” I replied, instantly regretting the immature gunfire. “You make me sick.”

His roommates came out to watch. I waved a quick hello.

“Sick?! You’re an alcoholic and a drug addict!”

One to talk, really.

“How could you hit me?!”

“Next time you’ll think before you act.”

“THINK?! You bitch! I buried your CAT and all you’ve ever given me is money!”

4.) A vibration signified a message. I picked up the phone and listened to the voice mail. It was a man’s voice, filled with the venom of an asp.

“Fuck you… Fuck you, [removed]… Fuck you…”

That was all.

I smiled and watched the candles dance around me. I couldn’t prove it was him. I didn’t care. I raised my hand and pressed my fingers together to form a tip, propelling my arm slowly out of the [bath] water.

“Bazhoooooo…..” I whispered, watching my hand rocket toward its target: an unsuspecting bottle of shampoo floating around in a sea of retribution. Incoming, incoming… man overboard!

“POW!” I whacked the Pantene Pro-V. “I just sunk your battleship.”

5.) …a knock interrupted my thoughts. It was Max. Again. By this point in time, I was aggravated with myself over the dishonesty I represented every single time I was near him. I was two-faced. One of those faces would have to go soon. Still, however much could be forgiven, none at all could be forgotten. I harbored the dark memory from which mistrust sprung like oil from a well.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

“Waiting for a friend to call,” I said, letting him in. “I’m about to go out. Would you like a drink?”

He shook his head and sauntered into the kitchen. He eyed my map. I eyed him.

“Are these all the countries you’re planning to visit?”
“For the most part,” I replied, giving myself a mental pat on the back for writing the notes in an actual notebook instead of the map itself.

“Cool,” he continued to look at it attentively. “You’ve got enough money saved?”

“Sure.”

“That’s good.”

“That it is.”

“You know, Blanka, we should figure out a way to con the world. We could make so much money. We’d never have to worry again.”

I’ve got my idea, I thought, where’s yours? I felt like an adolescent with a dirty little secret. It didn’t dawn upon me yet that, at that moment, we both stood for the same wicked principle.

6.) “You think I’m the only one bound to this world by self-inflicted chains? People sell themselves for much less! Much less! I tried and I gave and I got nothing in return but sorrow! And it was just! It was fair! I got exactly what I deserved. After struggling to discover what should have been so evident, yes, I finally saw the light. For years, people have had their claws inside of me, tearing me open and sucking me dry! I’ve had enough! Being with Anya taught me well, but Max was the final stroke to make me see.”

“Max?!” Eliana mumbled, rolling her eyes in disdain. “What, are you in love with him too?!”

I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. I stopped, looking at her in wonder. The words she uttered had left an impact on my mind not because of any truth within them, but because of the sudden and abrupt recognition of her age and its limitations. In a single moment, I had come to realize that the simple jealousies she displayed were what once had deliberately snared my own judgments. Taking a deep breath, I temporarily clung to her fault and steadied myself.

“No. I loved him, this is true. But I loved Max as a friend. Now it would be best on my behalf to have him out of my life. In either case, I feel sorry for him. His using others will be his downfall.”

Eliana leered.

“I know he’s a womanizer. It makes no difference to him.”

I chuckled. The sound was low and guttural, and could have been perceived as an ominous presence if it was not deemed to be mature. Age, an age-old evil.

“I’m not talking about his behavior with women. That is of no interest to me. I don’t need to hang on his every word like the rest of the dumb girls he uses.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s his self-deception, the deception of people he calls friends, and the deception of a country that looks up to someone who does not uphold his end of the bargain. All those years he had so honorably served his fatherland by participating in a war-faring organization, he not once stood up to fight against it until it was his turn to serve. It’s easy to take from the taxpayers when you’re not the one called to duty. This time around, though, the only way he’ll be able to redeem himself is to be truly committed to his anti-war cause and to truly make a difference. And this goes far beyond the on-camera tactics that sustain him through the day by the charity of misinformed people. If he continues to sharpen his skills in using the public, it won’t be long until the public develops a greater weapon against him.”

The young lady includes this advisory; “I’d like to add that the aforementioned information pertaining to this character constitutes very little of what the novel is actually about. The subject is simply not worth the writing. Furthermore, the book was not written with the intent to slander. It simply delineates an unforeseen chain of events that have led me to learn the lessons I did.”

Hey, I’m just a huge fan. I’m only hoping for an inscribed first edition to add to my collection – it’ll go right next to Carl Sandburg’s Complete Poems.

Category: Antiwar crowd, Iraq Veterans Against the War, Phony soldiers, Usual Suspects