Born To Be Bad

January 17, 2004               

                God, I hate myself. Truth is, I've always felt 'dat way, like one a those spitballs I fling at teachers when I zone out in class. Yeah, I'm da spittin' image a that, a rolled up piece a paper, all torn an' grimy, dunked in a bucket a drool ta mess up someone worth hittin'. I used ta get so much happiness from 'dat, smackin' anyone an' everyone with my patented lil' puke prizes. I'd be sittin' at my desk, feet propped on top a some kid's backpack, aimin' for da back of my teach's head as he went on an' on 'bout literary bullshit. Who da fuck cares about 'dat crap? Not me, obviously. Duh, my English skills are great! I don't need ta change a thing about my talkin'! It's perfect as it is. Anyways, there I was, scoopin' the snot wad inta my hand, tongue curled in da corner a my lips, pullin' myself together for the main attraction. But when I was finally ready, when all my ducks were in a row, old man Sasunabi (homeroom prof. , loved ta hate 'im) caught me in da act. Dude, I can still remember da look on his face, his round, red, angry mug, grittin' his teeth an starin' at me wit' huge buggy eyes as if I were some creature from another world. Standin' in front a da room, his skin got darker an' darker, turnin' from rose ta lavender in no time flat. Then an' there, somethin' occurred ta me that I had never thought a before-

I had gone too far.

                'Dat's da way it is wit' me. I keep goin' an' goin' 'til someone has enough an' cleans my clock. It takes a week a detention here, a few days a suspension there, maybe even da principal threatenin' ta kick my ass outta da district ta get my attention. That's only true when I actually show up ta class, though. Out on 'da streets, it's a different story. There, I don't half-ass obey the law.

I break it.

                Dat's right, I admit it. I'm 'da guy screwin' around, jackin' candy an' pens an' junk toys from da grocery stores, stuffin' my pockets wit' whatever I can fit in 'em. 'Dat's me, rippin' off da five an' dime stores, da Doller Generals, Celebration Foods, places 'dat sell shit for about a buck a piece. I know what ya thinkin'. Ya probably sayin' ta yourself, all smug an' arrogant-like, 'dat ya so above me, what a loser, he's an idiot, a dumbass, stupid moron, sad sack, mutt, dog, an asshole who doesn't deserve ta live. Ya know what, ya condescendin' prick?

Ya'll are right.

Completely. Totally. Right.

                I am a fuck-up. An' a royal one at 'dat. Never been able ta do anythin' right. Can't stop lyin' stealin', cheatin' just ta pass a test, or runnin' da alleyways at dark thirty past my beddie bye time. Oh yeah, baby, it's all about me, Jonouchi Katsuya, da crazy ass kid who belongs in a freak show for psychos. Glamorous, ain't I? I'm quite a card sometimes-or so I'm told. Ask any one a my street pals, any one a them , an' they'll tell ya what I'm cracked up ta be. Witty's what they'll say. Sassy, a real  smart mouth who's flighty, but comes up wit' some good jokes every now an' then. Yup, yup, yup, class clown Jou. Ya gotta love me an' my pranks. Hell, Rintama does. 'Dat's why I hang wit' 'em.

                Oh, did I forget ta mention 'dat I was a gangsta boy? Uh-huh, I've been a crime cat since I was in junior high, freakin' da students by grabbin' their lunch money, beatin' on da newcomers, doin' all I could ta show how big a tough guy I was. Monday through Friday, That's what I did, everythin' from lockin' some sad sap in a locker ta dunkin' heads in toilet bowls. Y'know, the usual crap Hirytani'd put me up to. 'Dat's my boss man. He calls da shots, runs da show, heads da lil' extracurricular activities that have me doin' his dirty work. Ultimately, I'm some flunky servin' stolen goods an' pride ta my master on a silver platter. Jesus, whatd'ya know, I just figured somethin' out. If I keep doin' whatever my runnin' mates say, then they'll always be a God ta me while I stay a worthless slave. Let's face it, my enemies are right. They've been right all along. I'm not just like a dog-

I am a dog.

An' if I keep sellin' myself out, I'll always be a dog.

                Fuck, will ya look at me? Will ya quit analyzin' me for a goddamned second an' look at me? Why? Why am I 'dis way? How did I get like 'dis? What's it gonna take ta stop fuckin' myself over?

                I can't do it, can't understand why I do da things I do, why I end up causin' everyone so much damned trouble. Maybe 'dat's just part a who I am. Can't be good or America's sweetheart, but I can be a thief, crook, backstabber, an' yatta-yatta-yatta, a hundred million other things leadin' up ta bein' a hardened criminal, but dat's it. 'Cuz I can't be nice, sweet, or kind. I can't be. Not when everyone whispers 'dat the best I'll ever get outta life is a jail cell.

                Well, screw you, I snap at all those who make fun a me. Screw you all. Go ta hell if ya think I can't feel da pain ya spiteful words brings on me. Guess again when ya believe 'dat I don't see your expressions a disgust every time I turn around. Oh, an' one other itsy-bitsy little thing-

                Damn you all for watchin' me fall without catchin' me. I enjoyed trippin' face first into ya sick, brainless jokes. It was great bein' da punch line for ya'll. I really loved feelin' less 'dan human . Bravo, ya bastards, bravo. I promise ta honor ya'll by cursin' every last one a your names durin' my last an' final attempt at suicide t'night. There now, doesn't 'dat make ya self-righteous animals feel special? Goody-goody for you guys, you win. There, I said it, the phrase of da hour, what everyone's been watin' for me ta say: I give up. There no more left to give, no reason for me ta live, life is bullshit, and I can't take it anymore. Did ya'll get 'dat? Wanna here it again, louder, more clear?

You win.

                No. Can't do it. I Won't let myself. I've been tryin' ta do 'dis for over a year now, a full fucking year, 'cuz I don't wanna live like 'dis anymore. Jesus, don't do 'dis ta me. Don't let it happen. Please, please, please-don't let me get me.

                An' dat's where you came in, Dollface. My angel savior, kissin' everythin' ta make it all better, da only guardian I'd ever want ta answer my prayers. When ya lifted a hand ta my cheek, shyly wipin' away 'da tears I couldn't stand, I thank my lucky stars 'dat ya were wit' me. Little Sis, I know I'm not da best brother in 'da world, but listen ta me. God bless ya for bein' there when I needed ya da most, for helpin' me realize 'dat, deep down, I got da will ta be happy like anyone else. Babe, no matter where ya go or what ya do, I want these three simple words ta follow you-

I love you.

                You've given me a sweet idea ta think over, Shizuka. Maybe I'm not such a terrible jerk bent on destroyin' da city. Maybe I got da potential ta overcome 'da evil in me, ta do totally respectable stuff ta make ya proud a me.

Maybe, just maybe, I'm not all 'dat horrible.

                Like 'dat fabled day by da ocean, where we made our sandcastles an' collected seashells, I'm huggin' ya in honor of da innocence I miss an' love so well. As 'da sky turns bright pink an' orange, 'da sun sets behind our timeless embrace, showin' me 'dat ya altered 'da destiny of someone who was supposedly born ta be bad.