THANKS TO ME
Ok... let's get one thing straight. I'm not like you, or you, or you. ... Unless you happen to be SunRise19, but how likely is that? About one in however-many-reviews-this-fic-gets. So there.
Like I said, I'm not like you. You feed on fluff, you think Simba is a perfectly normal guy; whilst Scar is a baddy, a bad, bad guy. Naaaah, I'm not like you. But maybe you already knew that as you clicked on the blue link to a new fic, "Thanks to Me," by sulkenwolfpup.
Maybe you already knew that I am the sick, disgusting, disturbing, incest-obsessed freak called sulkenwolfpup. And I do not find any of the words to follow to be appropriate, neither would I recommend them to really anyone... they just happened in the TLK world. Maybe this, of all things, will make you realize one painfully obvious (but not to you, obviously) thing -- the characters in Lion King are sick.
One more thing; this fic was based on the concept of the early version of Be Prepared, which, like this fic, was titled Thanks to Me. But, unlike this fic, I don't own the song. And I don't own Be Prepared either. Get used to it.
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"Thanks to you..."
But I didn't hear what she said. For the second she said those fateful words: "thanks to you..." I drew upon my own thoughts to finish the sentence.
Thanks to me. Thanks to me, what? Thanks to me, the pridelands are decimated. Thanks to me, the world has been turned from a cheerful place to a hell-like exhibit in which everything is repetition; painful, hateful repetition.
I guess I think this way about everything she says. Sarabi opens her mouth to say, "Who are you anyway..." and I think, 'King Scar... but who, may I ask, is King Scar?'
Sarabi says, "... destroying the pridelands..." and I think, 'along with everything in them.'
It is such a disturbing thought that in my mind, Sarabi never finishes her sentences. Who finishes them for her? I do. And why? Because I know the answer after the first word is drawn from her maw.
"Thanks to me, things are good with Mufasa; thanks to me, little Simba needs prayers."
Good with Mufasa, not surprising. They always are, whether he's receiving a lesson from his father -- our father -- or receiving a throw to his death.
Little Simba needs prayers. Then am I to take the form of Simba? Little, yes, I am. My frame is undersized; as is my impact on the pride. And do I need prayers? Of course. Prayers to leave, prayers to lighten up, prayers to die.
But Simba... I am not. Only that word keeps me from fitting this description, on that word fails to make sense.
Or maybe it does. Lion, ah yes, the true meaning of that name, Simba. Thanks to me, little lion needs prayers. Little lion. Yes. That's who I am. I, the tyrant. The mauko'ed.
Mauko'ed, what have I said...? Dying, yes I am, but now it seems I have given up. Now, I gather, I shall fall to death, having given up on life.
"... the entire pride is dying!"
Yes, Sarabi, I agree.
