Being a Jerk
A/N: DARK. FOUL LANGUAGE. GORY DESCRIPTIONS. MARCO SELF-BASTARDIZATION. NOT FOR KIDS.
Being a Jerk
I am a jerk.
No duh.
I'm pretty good at it. I'm very obnoxious. I know just what to say to piss you off. I chisel at your every fault -- real or imagined -- until you crumble into fine dust. Then, I'll lift you to my lips and blow, scatter you to the ends of the earth, broken, shattered.
I'm a bastard. It's very obvious. Piss me off, I may just kill you. Just because.
I'm not some blood-n-guts junkie like Rachel. Oh, no. I have finesse, baby. Rachel will rip your heart out -- quite literally -- and paint a Monet with your bleeding arteries. If you catch her at juuuuust the right moment, she'll rip your eyes from their sockets, make earrings and sell them to Hot Topic. And that big ol' bear will grin as you cry for your mommy.
Which reminds me, I don't go Rachel until you start with the "Yo' Mama" jokes. Then I'll crush your bones into pixie dust, toss in some food coloring and glitter, and sell THAT to Hot Topic. They like the whole Tinkerbell thing.
But yeah. Me, I have style. I don't rip your physical heart. I attack your mind. I pick up on your faults -- ego, ignorance, kindness -- and ram them down your throat like cocain up a junkie's nose. Or cinnamon buns down Ax's throat.
I find fault in Cassie for God's sake. And I tell her so. Her heart bleeds like Niagara freaking Falls. And that will get her killed.
I like Cassie. She's not Jake, Rachel, Ax, Tobias, or a Yeerk. Or me. So automatically, that makes her a good person.
But damn it, I will not die, my mother will not die, the human race will not die, because she has a little thing called a conscience.
....I would so love to see her little shoulder angel and devil duke it out. Screw Rachel vs. David, that's where the money is.
I guess it's not all faults I attack. I take the "Good Sam" qualities and twist 'em.
So what? The Good Samaritan, what happened after he saved the Jew? His Samaritan neighbors found out, and lynched his ass. I'll bet ya.
If someone will kill you for being a different race, what do helpers of a hated group get?
I'll give you three guesses, and I assure you: it ain't a gold watch and a good dental plan.
Look at Aftran. Her fellow Yeerks found out about her involvements, and tried to 'interrogate' (KILL) her. All because she and Cassie were good, sweet, and true.
I think I'm gonna be sick.
Luckily, Cassie rectified her mistake and got us all out safely.
Notice I'm not cheering.
I still give her trouble from time to time about that. 'Cause I'm a jerk. Mustn't forget that, that's the whole point of this little soliloquy.
Sometimes I wonder.... do I like being a jerk?
And I answer:
Hell yeah.
Jerks are cold, unfeeling bastards. Insensitive. You can break down in tears, and they won't bat an eye. Get stabbed in the back, literally or figuratively, they'll spit and call you an idiot for trusting someone.
They don't give a damn.
I don't give a damn.
I'm a jerk. I'm a bastard.
And yet...
I give a damn.
Damn it all.
A/N: DARK. FOUL LANGUAGE. GORY DESCRIPTIONS. MARCO SELF-BASTARDIZATION. NOT FOR KIDS.
Being a Jerk
I am a jerk.
No duh.
I'm pretty good at it. I'm very obnoxious. I know just what to say to piss you off. I chisel at your every fault -- real or imagined -- until you crumble into fine dust. Then, I'll lift you to my lips and blow, scatter you to the ends of the earth, broken, shattered.
I'm a bastard. It's very obvious. Piss me off, I may just kill you. Just because.
I'm not some blood-n-guts junkie like Rachel. Oh, no. I have finesse, baby. Rachel will rip your heart out -- quite literally -- and paint a Monet with your bleeding arteries. If you catch her at juuuuust the right moment, she'll rip your eyes from their sockets, make earrings and sell them to Hot Topic. And that big ol' bear will grin as you cry for your mommy.
Which reminds me, I don't go Rachel until you start with the "Yo' Mama" jokes. Then I'll crush your bones into pixie dust, toss in some food coloring and glitter, and sell THAT to Hot Topic. They like the whole Tinkerbell thing.
But yeah. Me, I have style. I don't rip your physical heart. I attack your mind. I pick up on your faults -- ego, ignorance, kindness -- and ram them down your throat like cocain up a junkie's nose. Or cinnamon buns down Ax's throat.
I find fault in Cassie for God's sake. And I tell her so. Her heart bleeds like Niagara freaking Falls. And that will get her killed.
I like Cassie. She's not Jake, Rachel, Ax, Tobias, or a Yeerk. Or me. So automatically, that makes her a good person.
But damn it, I will not die, my mother will not die, the human race will not die, because she has a little thing called a conscience.
....I would so love to see her little shoulder angel and devil duke it out. Screw Rachel vs. David, that's where the money is.
I guess it's not all faults I attack. I take the "Good Sam" qualities and twist 'em.
So what? The Good Samaritan, what happened after he saved the Jew? His Samaritan neighbors found out, and lynched his ass. I'll bet ya.
If someone will kill you for being a different race, what do helpers of a hated group get?
I'll give you three guesses, and I assure you: it ain't a gold watch and a good dental plan.
Look at Aftran. Her fellow Yeerks found out about her involvements, and tried to 'interrogate' (KILL) her. All because she and Cassie were good, sweet, and true.
I think I'm gonna be sick.
Luckily, Cassie rectified her mistake and got us all out safely.
Notice I'm not cheering.
I still give her trouble from time to time about that. 'Cause I'm a jerk. Mustn't forget that, that's the whole point of this little soliloquy.
Sometimes I wonder.... do I like being a jerk?
And I answer:
Hell yeah.
Jerks are cold, unfeeling bastards. Insensitive. You can break down in tears, and they won't bat an eye. Get stabbed in the back, literally or figuratively, they'll spit and call you an idiot for trusting someone.
They don't give a damn.
I don't give a damn.
I'm a jerk. I'm a bastard.
And yet...
I give a damn.
Damn it all.