This Is a Long Drive for Someone with Something to Think About
--
Oh no, not with the fucking poncy "I feel your pain" bullshit. Don't try to pull that crap on me Angelus. Just 'cause you've got a bleedin' soul doesn't mean you know a damned thing about my pain you wanker.
An' yes, I would mind putting out my cigarette in here, thankyouverymuch.
Now, listen here - I'm in charge of this conversation. I'll do the talking, you'll do the listening bit, an' we'll both walk out of here relatively unsinged, ok? Good.
So, Red's been telling me lately that I really need to get rid of some of this "pent up aggression" crap. Usually, that means beating the shit out of something that goes bump in the night an' all. But, you see, the demon community's a bit up-in-arms against me an' the bumpy things tend to bring their big fire-breathing friends out with them when they go a-killing nowadays. Ahem. So, I figure I can just take it out on the root of all the problems in my unlife - namely - you.
Yes you, Soulboy.
Don't give me that face.
An' no, I won't take my feet off the coffee-table, I don't care how much it cost. I'm evil, remember? I'm not about to fret over some hunks of wood. Even if some poor little side-of-the-road Venezuelan bird did han'-craft it in an aesthetically pleasing fashion. Yes I - oh shut up.
Er, now, where was I?
Oh yeah. You, an' why I. hate. you.
Yeah, I know, I could write a bloody book. But I had a whole two-hour car-trip to think about this an' you're going to listen, damnit. We had an agreement here an' I still have those hot pokers in the back of the DeSoto. I do know how to use them, you know. You taught me.
Which brings me to point number one. Sort of. It's your damn fault that I'm undead in the first place. Oh, don't give me that Drusilla crap - I know for a fact that she got bored halfway through siring me an' your Irish ass finished the damn job.
Yes I was awake, you wanker - what do you take me for, Wesley? An' no I did not act like him when I was alive.
I did not - hey! The threat of pokers still stan's, mick!
Besides, I was ranting.
Even if Dru had finished the job - which she didn't - she wasn't my bleedin' Sire in any respect. You can't learn anything from that chit. Crazy people make suckie mentors, you know?
Yes I said suckie. It's hard to spend so much time around the damn Scooby gang an' not pick up those kinds of words. Even when you were set on sucking the world into hell I heard you saying "not of the good" an' other such rot, so top it with the holier-than-thou look.
An' yes I'm aware of the irony in my last statement.
Now, can I please get back to yelling at you?
Grrrrrrrr...
Don't get me wrong, though. The twenty years after you turned my ass were great. Bloody hell, even you torturing me was fun in some way - not to mention the fact that torture usually led up to sex back in those days. Killing was a definite good thing as well - an' that usually led up to sex too... An' fuck, Angelus, the sex was great.
Then you just had to take a god-damned trip with Darla an' eat that damn gypsy an' get all soully on me. Then, to make matters worse, you up an' disappear for two years. Darla wouldn't tell me a damn thing an' Dru just wept for fucking ever on end without sayin' a word.
An' how the hell did you live through shagging Darla for a century an' a half? Two years with that woman just about killed my back, even with vampire-strength an' all...
Oh, don't look so surprised. She never expected to see your lard ass again. She's not exactly one to stay celibate an' we both know I'm sexy as hell...
Oh, Peaches, I'm hurt! Why else would you have turned me?
Thought so.
So, yeah, Darla decides it's high fucking time I become the man of the family in your absence an' all that other Darla-esque bullshit. I didn't really pay attention - she was naked an' my mind was justifiably elsewhere. Meanwhile, I'm still in the bloody dark as to why you're absent in the first place.
An' sod it all, Angelus, that hurt. Not only did I not get a damn "good-bye, Will, I'm off to go fuck up everything now", but you were a ran'om pile of ashes somewhere for all I knew. You just happened to be my god-damned everything for twenty-odd an' then poof you're fucking gone.
I've suddenly got to control minions an' please Darla all while being constantly compared to you. An' two damn years of "Angelus would never have" an' "Angelus used to" an' "Angelus always" is enough to give anyone more of an inferiority complex than I already had thanks to your ass. An' Dru wouldn't stop cryin' an' hardly ate anyone an' started talking more an' more to the moon an' the stars an' anyone but me an' I couldn't do a damn thing because I wasn't you.
Then, you show up again. A cameo appearance in the "fuck with Spike's head" show. An' with slayers an' rebellion an' Dru calming down enough to notice me I didn't even notice that you weren't even yourself throughout everything.
Next thing I know you're gone again.
That's when I find out about the gypsy curse an' Darla's thrown you out an' - thank whatever's up there - she's leaving and taking the minions with her.
Now, there's this one thing about the whole story I didn't quite figure out. Why the hell didn't you come to us, Angelus? Why did you think that we'd turn you away like she did? I mean, yeah the bird loved you, but we worshipped your sorry carcas, you poof. Dru an' me an' you could have been a family again. But noooo - you were so Sire-whipped you just ran with your damn tail between your legs like some kicked puppy. Ponce.
Fast-forward through some hundred-odd years of waiting hand-an'-foot for a woman who was just with me 'cause I reminded her of her Daddy. Skip right over the century of being in love with a person who's too crazy to take care of herself - also your fault, but we can save Dru for another date. Flash to Sunnydale where I show up ready to kill Slutty the Vampire Slayer only to find you, of all vamps, playing lap-dog of the bloody revolution. Angelus, Scourge of Europe, soul-mate of the fucking Slayer. Really, soul-mate shouldn't even be a term that applies to our kind, Peaches.
Oh, and don't give me that "you tried to kill my ex-girlfriend" crap - you did kill mine, must I remind you? Methinks you should have at least flinched when the Slayer tried to kill me, your ex-lover. Or, do I have to remind you about that as well? And who cares if you were soulless back then? Contrary to popular belief, that was you, Angelus. Minus the brooding and plus blood-lust and a sense of humor. Not that I miss the wanker all that much.
I mean, we all Know what happened last time Angelus came out to play, don't we?
I think we're up to fucked-up plot twist number seven here. You come back from the white hats long enough to steal my girl, try to suck the world into hell, and rape me a couple of times.
Like your first two incarnations hadn't done enough damage.
But no, oh no, you were always big on domination and I always fought you every step of the way. That was, until I ended up in a wheelchair all defenseless. You know, it was worst that last time - because I had to lie there and fake it even though I could have fought you and won you stupid git.
Yeah, you deserve all the fucking guilt in the world for that you fucking piece of shit.
An' now, now look at me. I'm neutered. Government blokes put a chip in my head and now I can't bite, scratch, or even point weapons at humans without getting a sodding migraine. Somewhere, deep down inside, I know this is your fault. Somehow it's your fault that I'm a miserable fucking excuse for a demon. It's your fault that I'm starting to like the fucking Scooby gang. Your fault that I consciously shagged Harmony, for chrissakes. Your fault I'm dreaming about the damn Slayer. Your fault that Dru left me twice. Your fault you poncy bastard.
An' you know what the worst of it is?
What really makes me so fucking angry I could stake myself? I'm still in love with you, you wanker. All you'd need to give me is a sodding "come hither" look an' I'd come crawling back to your sorry ass after all these years. I wouldn't even care about being know as the Scourge of Europe's fuck-toy anymore.
Do you see what kind of influence you have over me you stupid stupid manwhore you?
An' you know what? I'm going to say this to your damn face next time, Angelus. I'm going to drive up to L.A. an' tell you everything you bugger. Next time, I'm not going to yell at some soddin' mannequin for an hour.
Bloody hell.
I'm gonna end up shagging the damn Slayer before that ever happens.
Damn you Angelus.
You suck.
You really, really... suck.
--
The title comes from the name of a Modest Mouse CD, namely, "This Is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About"...
--
Oh no, not with the fucking poncy "I feel your pain" bullshit. Don't try to pull that crap on me Angelus. Just 'cause you've got a bleedin' soul doesn't mean you know a damned thing about my pain you wanker.
An' yes, I would mind putting out my cigarette in here, thankyouverymuch.
Now, listen here - I'm in charge of this conversation. I'll do the talking, you'll do the listening bit, an' we'll both walk out of here relatively unsinged, ok? Good.
So, Red's been telling me lately that I really need to get rid of some of this "pent up aggression" crap. Usually, that means beating the shit out of something that goes bump in the night an' all. But, you see, the demon community's a bit up-in-arms against me an' the bumpy things tend to bring their big fire-breathing friends out with them when they go a-killing nowadays. Ahem. So, I figure I can just take it out on the root of all the problems in my unlife - namely - you.
Yes you, Soulboy.
Don't give me that face.
An' no, I won't take my feet off the coffee-table, I don't care how much it cost. I'm evil, remember? I'm not about to fret over some hunks of wood. Even if some poor little side-of-the-road Venezuelan bird did han'-craft it in an aesthetically pleasing fashion. Yes I - oh shut up.
Er, now, where was I?
Oh yeah. You, an' why I. hate. you.
Yeah, I know, I could write a bloody book. But I had a whole two-hour car-trip to think about this an' you're going to listen, damnit. We had an agreement here an' I still have those hot pokers in the back of the DeSoto. I do know how to use them, you know. You taught me.
Which brings me to point number one. Sort of. It's your damn fault that I'm undead in the first place. Oh, don't give me that Drusilla crap - I know for a fact that she got bored halfway through siring me an' your Irish ass finished the damn job.
Yes I was awake, you wanker - what do you take me for, Wesley? An' no I did not act like him when I was alive.
I did not - hey! The threat of pokers still stan's, mick!
Besides, I was ranting.
Even if Dru had finished the job - which she didn't - she wasn't my bleedin' Sire in any respect. You can't learn anything from that chit. Crazy people make suckie mentors, you know?
Yes I said suckie. It's hard to spend so much time around the damn Scooby gang an' not pick up those kinds of words. Even when you were set on sucking the world into hell I heard you saying "not of the good" an' other such rot, so top it with the holier-than-thou look.
An' yes I'm aware of the irony in my last statement.
Now, can I please get back to yelling at you?
Grrrrrrrr...
Don't get me wrong, though. The twenty years after you turned my ass were great. Bloody hell, even you torturing me was fun in some way - not to mention the fact that torture usually led up to sex back in those days. Killing was a definite good thing as well - an' that usually led up to sex too... An' fuck, Angelus, the sex was great.
Then you just had to take a god-damned trip with Darla an' eat that damn gypsy an' get all soully on me. Then, to make matters worse, you up an' disappear for two years. Darla wouldn't tell me a damn thing an' Dru just wept for fucking ever on end without sayin' a word.
An' how the hell did you live through shagging Darla for a century an' a half? Two years with that woman just about killed my back, even with vampire-strength an' all...
Oh, don't look so surprised. She never expected to see your lard ass again. She's not exactly one to stay celibate an' we both know I'm sexy as hell...
Oh, Peaches, I'm hurt! Why else would you have turned me?
Thought so.
So, yeah, Darla decides it's high fucking time I become the man of the family in your absence an' all that other Darla-esque bullshit. I didn't really pay attention - she was naked an' my mind was justifiably elsewhere. Meanwhile, I'm still in the bloody dark as to why you're absent in the first place.
An' sod it all, Angelus, that hurt. Not only did I not get a damn "good-bye, Will, I'm off to go fuck up everything now", but you were a ran'om pile of ashes somewhere for all I knew. You just happened to be my god-damned everything for twenty-odd an' then poof you're fucking gone.
I've suddenly got to control minions an' please Darla all while being constantly compared to you. An' two damn years of "Angelus would never have" an' "Angelus used to" an' "Angelus always" is enough to give anyone more of an inferiority complex than I already had thanks to your ass. An' Dru wouldn't stop cryin' an' hardly ate anyone an' started talking more an' more to the moon an' the stars an' anyone but me an' I couldn't do a damn thing because I wasn't you.
Then, you show up again. A cameo appearance in the "fuck with Spike's head" show. An' with slayers an' rebellion an' Dru calming down enough to notice me I didn't even notice that you weren't even yourself throughout everything.
Next thing I know you're gone again.
That's when I find out about the gypsy curse an' Darla's thrown you out an' - thank whatever's up there - she's leaving and taking the minions with her.
Now, there's this one thing about the whole story I didn't quite figure out. Why the hell didn't you come to us, Angelus? Why did you think that we'd turn you away like she did? I mean, yeah the bird loved you, but we worshipped your sorry carcas, you poof. Dru an' me an' you could have been a family again. But noooo - you were so Sire-whipped you just ran with your damn tail between your legs like some kicked puppy. Ponce.
Fast-forward through some hundred-odd years of waiting hand-an'-foot for a woman who was just with me 'cause I reminded her of her Daddy. Skip right over the century of being in love with a person who's too crazy to take care of herself - also your fault, but we can save Dru for another date. Flash to Sunnydale where I show up ready to kill Slutty the Vampire Slayer only to find you, of all vamps, playing lap-dog of the bloody revolution. Angelus, Scourge of Europe, soul-mate of the fucking Slayer. Really, soul-mate shouldn't even be a term that applies to our kind, Peaches.
Oh, and don't give me that "you tried to kill my ex-girlfriend" crap - you did kill mine, must I remind you? Methinks you should have at least flinched when the Slayer tried to kill me, your ex-lover. Or, do I have to remind you about that as well? And who cares if you were soulless back then? Contrary to popular belief, that was you, Angelus. Minus the brooding and plus blood-lust and a sense of humor. Not that I miss the wanker all that much.
I mean, we all Know what happened last time Angelus came out to play, don't we?
I think we're up to fucked-up plot twist number seven here. You come back from the white hats long enough to steal my girl, try to suck the world into hell, and rape me a couple of times.
Like your first two incarnations hadn't done enough damage.
But no, oh no, you were always big on domination and I always fought you every step of the way. That was, until I ended up in a wheelchair all defenseless. You know, it was worst that last time - because I had to lie there and fake it even though I could have fought you and won you stupid git.
Yeah, you deserve all the fucking guilt in the world for that you fucking piece of shit.
An' now, now look at me. I'm neutered. Government blokes put a chip in my head and now I can't bite, scratch, or even point weapons at humans without getting a sodding migraine. Somewhere, deep down inside, I know this is your fault. Somehow it's your fault that I'm a miserable fucking excuse for a demon. It's your fault that I'm starting to like the fucking Scooby gang. Your fault that I consciously shagged Harmony, for chrissakes. Your fault I'm dreaming about the damn Slayer. Your fault that Dru left me twice. Your fault you poncy bastard.
An' you know what the worst of it is?
What really makes me so fucking angry I could stake myself? I'm still in love with you, you wanker. All you'd need to give me is a sodding "come hither" look an' I'd come crawling back to your sorry ass after all these years. I wouldn't even care about being know as the Scourge of Europe's fuck-toy anymore.
Do you see what kind of influence you have over me you stupid stupid manwhore you?
An' you know what? I'm going to say this to your damn face next time, Angelus. I'm going to drive up to L.A. an' tell you everything you bugger. Next time, I'm not going to yell at some soddin' mannequin for an hour.
Bloody hell.
I'm gonna end up shagging the damn Slayer before that ever happens.
Damn you Angelus.
You suck.
You really, really... suck.
--
The title comes from the name of a Modest Mouse CD, namely, "This Is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About"...