Where Villains Come From

My name is Stephen McCain, formerly Alex Shay, and I'm a tall and lean young black man living in the city of Plymouth, Massachusetts. These days, I'm a student-athlete at Saint Meredith College, a small private school located in the heart of Plymouth. These days, I'm finally doing alright. I've escaped from the clutches of my evil family. Black American families in general are a model of dysfunction but mine was absolutely the worst. You think you've got it, wait till you meet my relatives. When the last of them dies and goes to Hell, I think Satan is going to be out of a job. Seriously.

Meet my favorite band of psychopaths. My biological father Franklin Shay is the prototypical womanizing corporate attorney. You can't count on him for anything. Ever since he divorced dear old ma, he spends all his money on those big-booty black and Hispanic strippers he likes so much at strip joints in downtown Boston. My mother Elsa Shay is a community college mathematics professor by trade and a man-hater by avocation. She hates all men without exception. She's also a closet dyke who sends love letters to those charming women on death row but has nothing but contempt for her husband and her son. I stay the hell away from her because I don't want to end up dead...or worse. Let's just say when that woman has a sharp object in her hand, any male in the vicinity should be nervous. You know what I mean. My sister Hannah Shay is also violent sociopath. She terrorizes her husband Ray Thaddeus and his daughter Nina. Get the picture?

Growing up in the rough streets of Brockton, I couldn't wait to get away from my psychotic relatives. I thought all my friends had it good because they didn't live with monsters. I was wrong. Many men and women in this country live with bad people. And they lead miserable lives. Most of them are too afraid to do anything about it. Not me. I escaped shortly after graduating from Brockton Community High School. I had my name legally changed from Alex Shay to Stephen McCain, and began a new life at Saint Meredith College. In spite of its ominous name, the school proved to be my lifeline.

Saint Meredith College is one of those small Catholic schools you hear so much about. It has nine thousand students, and is mostly white. That's more than okay by me. The only black people I like are President Barack Obama and his family, along with Oprah Winfrey and Denzel Washington. All others are a bunch of haters who make the black race look bad by being a bunch of hostile and narrow-minded bastards and bitches, pardon my French. I'm a black man who doesn't like black people. I don't like people in general, but my own people disappoint me the most. This shouldn't surprise you. Not today. Many black folks hate their own. There's a lot of hatred and bitterness between black men and black women in modern-day America. We don't like each other. It happens. Get over it. Anyhow, having escaped from the madhouse I grew up in, I forged a new life for myself.

Saint Meredith College gave me that chance. They offered me a student-athlete scholarship for running cross country. This small, previously all-female institution was diversifying by adding varsity teams for men in baseball, basketball, rugby, tennis, football, wrestling, cross country, soccer, cycling, gymnastics, swimming, ice hockey, volleyball, golf and lacrosse. Women outnumbered men at the school but not by that wide a margin. Only fifty two to forty eight percent. I could live with that. The Saint Meredith College sportswomen had lots more varsity teams, competing in softball, basketball, fencing, bowling, tennis, field hockey, wrestling, cross country, soccer, ice hockey, cycling, rugby, gymnastics, swimming, volleyball, golf, lacrosse, water polo and equestrian. We compete in the NCAA Division Two.

I moved into the dorms during August of 2008, and began exploring campus life. The school was filled with so many beautiful buildings, and beautiful people. The campus was seventy eight percent white, yet African-Americans and Latinos made up the majority of student-athletes. Especially in sports like football, men's and women's basketball and men's and women's soccer. How about that? I guess some things never change. The men's cross country coach was a tall, sturdy-looking, red-haired and porcelain-skinned white woman named Trudy Williamson. She'd been the coach of both the men's and women's cross country teams since the school went coed in 2001. I wasn't the only man on the team who was surprised that our coach was a woman but I held my tongue. This is a new world for me and I don't want to say or do anything that might screw up my chances. Growing up where I did, I learned to shut up and observe rather than talk impulsively and give away any weaknesses I might have. It would really come in handy during my stay at Saint Meredith College.

My roommate was a cool guy named Kyle Hernandez. He was tall and muscular, with dark hair and dark bronze skin. This Chicano dude was a member of the all-new varsity football team. His name sounded familiar to me. I soon found out why. Kyle used to play football for Boston College High School. That school has been creaming Brockton Community High School's football team for years. I guess going to an all-male school makes guys manlier or something. Kyle and I got along just fine. That surprised me. The guy came from a privileged family. His father owned a car dealership and his mother was a state representative. My folks did well for themselves too but they were so mean to me and to each other that they made our big house on Brockton's West Side seem like a prison to me. I dreamed of escaping from it for years. I haven't spoken to them since I took off in the summer of 2008. They don't know where I am, or what I'm doing. They don't even know that I've changed my name. And I want to keep it that way.

Kyle became my guide to the campus social scene. He knew all the right people. For example, he was best friends with Trevor Wayne, the son of Joseph Wayne, the Saint Meredith College Head Football Coach. Trevor Wayne was a tall, lean, spiky-haired white dude who basically ruled the men's ice hockey team. He was really popular on campus. His girlfriend Sharon Wyler looked like a centerfold, folks. She was tall, slender, with light bronze skin, pale blue eyes and long blonde hair. Oh, and she had the big breasts, long legs and big booty that could make an avant-garde photographer's dream. Sharon was the captain of the women's soccer team. And an honor student. The gal had beauty, brains and athletic talent. I don't believe perfection is possible but Sharon definitely came close. How in hell did Trevor get hold of that? Hot damn!

The four of us became a thing. Sort of. Trevor was basically the king, and Kyle was his best buddy. I was friends with Kyle, who was going out with a tall, fine-looking young black woman named Lamika Letterman. She was Sharon's best friend and a member of the women's varsity rugby squad. And basically I was the only one flying solo. I've met plenty of pretty gals on campus but no one really lights my fire. That's okay by me. I don't need the little fun and inevitable drama of a relationship right now. My last relationship ended up in a fiery fashion. How come? Well, let's just say that a certain suspicious fire which consumed the Shay household during the latter days of summer 2008 wasn't exactly accidental. Yeah, one day, while no one was home, the place simply went up in smokes. It's weird how that happens. No one saw a thing. The whole incident got blamed on some recently released convicted pyromaniac who lived down the street, even though the poor woman claimed she was on the other side of town when it happened. No one believed her and she went back to jail. And that's how the story ends for her.

My story is just beginning. I'm having lots of fun at Saint Meredith College. My coaches and teammates like me. I'm doing well in all my classes. And I love the new life I have in Plymouth. Nothing can get in my way now. I'm free from my family. I've got a new name, a new school and a new life. Everything is peachy keen. And I'm really hoping it stays that way. Of course, I think you know what would happen should any misguided fool has it in his or her mind that getting in my way is a good idea. Accidents can happen anytime, forget about Geico, that's why there's Pyro!