Zacktastic! or "Victim of my own sexiness"

One

“Chicks, man too many chicks.” Those words more than any others always stuck in my head in relation to Zack. I remember him shaking his head slightly as if in disbelief while at the same time an unmistakeable small smirk came over his face. He was in that sentence explaining his maybe 3rd or 4th cellphone number change. Was the cockiness of the young man at all justified or was it pathetic posturing, something quite common to highschool boys eager to assert their masculinity? Truth be told, there was much justification to his boasts (which btw were heard quite frequently by those who knew him). Of average height, blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and chiseled good looks. Later, he went through a portly phase, but that doesn’t concern us here.

Zachary Peter Malcolm was born in April, April 12 of 1990. I wasn’t his friend. I wasn’t anyone’s friend. But I was there. He wasn’t intelligent in a traditional sense. He despised school and had a notoriously short attention span as well as being perhaps something of the male equivalent of a diva if you like. That is to say, he was extraordinarily self absorbed. He was popular with the girls for reasons already mentioned. As for the boys, they generally despised him with the exception of his lifelong “best friend” Scram of whom more will be discussed later. To be honest, I can’t say for certain that he was unintelligent. It may well have been that he simply had no head for what passes for education in the USA. He did have what perhaps is best described as a gift of psychological insight. Unfortunately for those around him, he did not always use this skill kindly. He was a disruptive presence in the class room, typically mocking and undermining his teachers at every turn. He was known to brag about the number of detentions he received in one semester (allegedly 112). Braggadocio aside, it is crucial to understand that Zack’s success day to day depended entirely on how well he could keep up the pretense that aside from being a screw off, everything was fine. Everything wasn’t fine with Zack. Far from it.

He had for the most part kept up his charade with little in the way of to dent or tear apart his cover. Key to this was the fact that he confided in no one. He was almost never serious, never spoke of his personal thoughts save to one girl. Cheerleader goddess and the sweetest disposition on two legs, Kelly K. More about her later. As mentioned earlier, Zack sure did have a way with the ladies. Eventually word got out here and there about his strange behavior. A few girls he had “conquered” compared notes and found some bizarre similarities. It seems that young Zack had a tendency to blaspheme uncontrollably near the point of climax. It also seems that he became inconsolably depressed after copulation, usually openly weeping immediately after the deed was complete. He wasn’t violent towards his conquests, just a bit weird. There were slight rumors circulating around the halls about this strange behavior, but for the most part, it left the lad unfazed. Most girls still liked him and most of the guys couldn’t care less about his bedroom antics.

On the surface of course everything was fine. 16 years old, cool kid, all the right clothes, right music, etc. All round ladies man, a real dandy. On the surface, a fun loving highschooler, not a care in the world. Only his confidant knew otherwise. Well, a few other people knew too. Perhaps most importantly, Malcolm the Elder. That is, Daddy Dearest.

Derek Malcolm’s employment status remains hazy even to this day. I believe he had some involvement with a computer company but in what capacity I never did learn. I don’t believe Zack knew what the hell his father did for a living either. One thing he did know, his daddy was wealthy. Very wealthy. One other thing he knew too. His daddy was a sick degenerate freak of virtually no moral fiber. Mr. Malcolm was like his son, a living, breathing facade. He too had constructed a well crafted image of himself that hid the reality, the debaucher within. On the surface, a family man, a generous man, and above all a pious man. He was as we determined, wealthy. He gave generously to charities throughout the city. He attended church weekly, a particularly reactionary and hysterical branch of the Baptist church in downtown Los Angeles. That’s what he was or at least thought he was, an evangelical type whose heroes where men like Pat Robertson, Dr.James Dobson, and their ilk. Zack detested Christianity. Had he read Nietzsche he might have glimpsed himself in the irascible German iconoclast. Zack knew his father was a fraud, a hypocrite. Worst of all, Zack knew his father was a depraved homosexual. Mr.Malcolm was hyper image conscious. He could never bring himself to risk a liaison with another man. Yet he was without the slightest doubt a very gay man. What to do? He used his son. When it started, I couldn’t say. But Malcolm the Elder (usually when drunk) used his son in all manner of peculiar antics that we will not go into here. For a supposed man of such monumental faith, this type of hypocrisy is far too obvious to even bother commenting on. But Zack knew it. He knew the true nature of this beast. It used to gall him when business associates would visit and praise the old man to his son. If only they knew the truth. These morons, sycophants, and grovelers. They’d probably still worship the pig. They’d probably spread themselves prostrate in front of the tyrant. Poodles that they were. Remember the story of Oedipus the King? Well it was one of Zack’s great fantasies or at least half of it was.

Throughout each school day, it was of the greatest imperative that this awful truth never be known to the student body. He was Zack Malcolm. Cool kid number one. He was nobody’s victim. Believe it. Some of us did. Did he?