I normally write angst.
But I never really did YGO angst. Unless you count the lame-o poems I used to do.
((Headdeskheaddeskheaddesk))
I have to update one of my REAL YGO fanfictions after this… And not write one-shots…
Gah, take this and run with it people! I said RUN!
Disclaimer: I own none of the original!
Joey Wheeler
Top rank DM's duelist
Best friends with the world champion
Humorous rival of Seto Kaiba
That's what they say about me. Everyday, something new comes on the computer. Of course I don't own one myself, I have to go over one of my friends houses for that. But each time I click my inbox, I am nearly drowned with fan mail. Mostly, from little boy's who say things like, "I want to grow up, just like you!"
I have to delete them all, because I know if I leave them there in my inbox… I will respond. And I will say something that I will regret. I might tell them things, such as, "No. You do not want to grow up like me. You want nothing to do with me."
I don't exactly mind the little fan girls though… but the older ones are awfully scary. They threaten that they will harm small animals if I continue to go out with Mai. But I laugh, because Yugi taught me the wonders of a digital camera. I send them pictures of me flipping them off, and holding up a sign that says, "You suck (insert username here)"
Some of those pictures make it to the mainstream Internet. That makes me laugh harder.
Then there is the mail, telling me I should dump Mai. I should dump her, and go sleep with Kaiba.
I print those letters out and show them to my lovely girlfriend. We both have a great laugh about it, and end up egging Kaiba's limo.
His face can get really red with anger; did you know that? I think one of these days, he is going to grab the eggshells and cut my throat out. And if that ever happens, the Internet will call it a 'lovers spat'.
The number one thing that bugs me the most though is how my fans think of me. They see only one side, and most of them have the crazy idea that I'm super rich like a rapper.
I am still living in my small apartment, living off noodle cups and prize money. I don't have millions of dollars or a glamorous lifestyle to match it.
And what makes me sick is that my father owns a laptop. I have no idea how he got it, except that he might of stole it from a family member. Stealing from a stranger involves work.
He would go down to the bar, and get hooked onto the net. He would go to all the websites that are dedicated to my own glory. He would announce himself as my father, and of course I can't call him a liar. The drunk knows where I live, and he owns a gun.
My father would spread lies, about what kind of a horrible son I was. He would tell stories about how I would come home drunk. He would say how I would abuse my little sister.
I was at my wits end, and was this close to grabbing my own rifle and blasting that bastard's brains against the wall.
But Yugi taught me the wonders of a digital camera. And I knew the wonders of picking locks.
My father smashed his computer apart a few days after I posted a picture of him passed out in his own filth. He was on the floor, belly up, surrounded by empty bottles and pizza boxes.
And sleeping on top of him was a half dressed, under aged, prostitute.