5) Angst cannot be rated G, it just can't. Some may argue that it can, so let me re-phrase that: GOOD angst cannot be rated G. If someone is seriously depressed, or abused, or whatver the angst is, it just can't be rated a cute, Disney-like G. At least try for a PG-13. R is usually decent, NC-17 is usually sick, twisted, and highly disturbing, as true, good angst should be.
"Damn!" 21-year-old Dib Membrane slammed his pencil down on the table he was writing on and stood up angrily. "This is so fucking stupid! Who the hell cares?" He stalked angrily over to the dormitory window and gazed out. Dib had lost the scythe over the years and instead spiked his hair. When he was 15, Zim had mysteriously disappeared. Dib, with nothing else to do, threw himself into his studies. By the time he entered college, you wouldn't be wrong if you said he was a genius. Dibby Membrane-Man Genius. Egh, OK, I'll stop. He was smart, he was hot, he was the main love interest on the campus-but something was wrong. When he was young, he'd dedicated his life to exposing the alien Zim. And when it was over, something went wrong. Dib was definetely smart, but he had a hard time keeping his grades up. Every night, he went out to the bar. He drank himself senseless, and knew he had an alcohol problem, but didn't give a fucking damn. Who the hell cared? Life was shit, and alcohol helped him numb his senses and get away from the hell that was life. He turned sharply and grabbed the comic off the stand next to the window. Johnny the Homicidal Maniac issue 1. Sometimes he wished he could go homicidal...or suicidal. That's it, he thought to himself. He grabbed the sharp, wood handled knife off the stand and went out the door. He was going down to the bar, then the beach. He would kill himself at the beach, and have as many drinks as he could for the last time. As soon as he got to the bar, he hid the knife in the bushes out front and went inside. Smoke hit him in the face and the noises echoed, and he walked up to the bartender.
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"Shit," whispered Dib. He was somewhere in a pained heap down a familiar alley, the one he always seemed to be dumped in after drinking WAY too much. "Fuck!" he exclaimed while hauling himself up. His head throbbed, his eyes were blurred, and he was experiencing another one of his famous hangovers. "Another reason why I should die," he muttered to himself. He stumbled to the bar and retrieved his knife from the bushes, and walked down to the beach.
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He looked out at the waves. They were pretty, but complicated at the same time. "Life is always like that...." He took out the knife and aimed it, but suddenly behind him he heard, "Yo, dude!" Dib jumped in terror, whirled around and yelled, "FUCK you!" But he forgot he had a knife in his hand. Dib stared down in horror at the young man's body and severed head. Blood spilled from the wound, and electricity sparks jumped from where he had cut the man's Walkman's strings. He had murdered somebody. He didn't care now. He droped to his knees and began to cry. He heard something behind him and lifted his tearstained face. "Dib? Dib. It's fine. I saw what happened and it wasn't your fault. I can help, your life will be the same. Trust me Dib. I'll help..." Dib jumped up and leaned into the person, still crying. "It's fine Dib. It'll be fine...."
"Damn!" 21-year-old Dib Membrane slammed his pencil down on the table he was writing on and stood up angrily. "This is so fucking stupid! Who the hell cares?" He stalked angrily over to the dormitory window and gazed out. Dib had lost the scythe over the years and instead spiked his hair. When he was 15, Zim had mysteriously disappeared. Dib, with nothing else to do, threw himself into his studies. By the time he entered college, you wouldn't be wrong if you said he was a genius. Dibby Membrane-Man Genius. Egh, OK, I'll stop. He was smart, he was hot, he was the main love interest on the campus-but something was wrong. When he was young, he'd dedicated his life to exposing the alien Zim. And when it was over, something went wrong. Dib was definetely smart, but he had a hard time keeping his grades up. Every night, he went out to the bar. He drank himself senseless, and knew he had an alcohol problem, but didn't give a fucking damn. Who the hell cared? Life was shit, and alcohol helped him numb his senses and get away from the hell that was life. He turned sharply and grabbed the comic off the stand next to the window. Johnny the Homicidal Maniac issue 1. Sometimes he wished he could go homicidal...or suicidal. That's it, he thought to himself. He grabbed the sharp, wood handled knife off the stand and went out the door. He was going down to the bar, then the beach. He would kill himself at the beach, and have as many drinks as he could for the last time. As soon as he got to the bar, he hid the knife in the bushes out front and went inside. Smoke hit him in the face and the noises echoed, and he walked up to the bartender.
********************************************************************
"Shit," whispered Dib. He was somewhere in a pained heap down a familiar alley, the one he always seemed to be dumped in after drinking WAY too much. "Fuck!" he exclaimed while hauling himself up. His head throbbed, his eyes were blurred, and he was experiencing another one of his famous hangovers. "Another reason why I should die," he muttered to himself. He stumbled to the bar and retrieved his knife from the bushes, and walked down to the beach.
********************************************************************
He looked out at the waves. They were pretty, but complicated at the same time. "Life is always like that...." He took out the knife and aimed it, but suddenly behind him he heard, "Yo, dude!" Dib jumped in terror, whirled around and yelled, "FUCK you!" But he forgot he had a knife in his hand. Dib stared down in horror at the young man's body and severed head. Blood spilled from the wound, and electricity sparks jumped from where he had cut the man's Walkman's strings. He had murdered somebody. He didn't care now. He droped to his knees and began to cry. He heard something behind him and lifted his tearstained face. "Dib? Dib. It's fine. I saw what happened and it wasn't your fault. I can help, your life will be the same. Trust me Dib. I'll help..." Dib jumped up and leaned into the person, still crying. "It's fine Dib. It'll be fine...."
