WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT?

It's really not my thing to rewrite, however, today I am making an exception. This story, "What Are You On About," is such an awesome piece of sulkenwolfpup... however, it's just like... so scraping the surface. So now, What Are You On About, rewritten. No, I ain't gonna put the title in quotes. I feel it is simply ridiculous for a person to put the title of their own work in quotations.

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To servant, all seemed still in order after any words of insult;

though to master, all was turned 'nother step toward the unveiling bucket of flames, known to him and all around as...

well, insanity.

The proof is easily readable, anyday one might come across the lair of servant and master; for this was not a once-in-a-lifetime sort of deal. Happened everyday, it did, and everyday master took a step closer, closer... even closer to that bucket of flames, green by light of day and purple by night.

If servant say, "calm yourself," master say, "I'm fine."

If servant say, "pull yourself together," master say, "very well."

If servant say, "you're in it," master say nothing at all.

But servant tattle, "what are you on about?" and master cannot comprehend.

Damn bird! He should sure as hell know what I'm on about! I'm on about... I'm on about... hell, what am I on about?

I'm on about my lack of adoration... lack, yeah, what an understatement. I don't have any adoration. And that's just it...

I'm on about Nala; my love... but does she feel affection for me in return? That's just it... of course not. She cannot see any good in me, for all she sees is a browned, screwed, angry face... an ugly face. My face.

Damn, I sure have been on about her a lot lately; but I'll never get her... I'll never get her back.

So I'll be on about her for eternity.

What else am I on about?

Ah, I know. I'm on about that bucket of flames I entitled insanity. You know, green by day and purple by night. I don't want to see them, I'll never want to see them, for it means I'm surrendering...

... to the side of me that is crazy, to my diseased exposed half; to death.

Damn, I know what else I'm on about. I'm on about Zazu's... tattles. Every time Zazu says... well, really anything, I'm right there with a snide remark in return. How I want to show him I can fend for myself, that I do not need his warnings and tattles to succeed in life...

but I'm wrong. I sure as hell need him. I'm dependent on him, but oh how I hate him... he controls me.

Ah yes, that's what I'm on about. But what to say to Zazu? It seems I can never put really anything into words these days, shame for they used to be my specialty... I'm losin' that too, just like everything else in my life.

My misadmiration, or summat... that's not a word, no... that's not a word. What is the word then? Unadoration? No, that's not right either. There isn't a word.

Typical, for no one ever feels a need to speak the opposite of adoration. No one ever has to, no one even knows what that means, what that feels like. But I can't tweak the English language, and I don't think there's a word in Swahili either. How would I know, I never use Swahili anymore, I've nearly forgotten it. Just another thing I've lost - my native language.

My love, my Nala... yes, there are plenty of words for that. That bucket of flames, the one called insanity - hell, I know what to tell him.

I'm on about you, Zazu. I'm on about servant. For though master is over servant, servant controls master. For master cannot live under servant.

For master might as well be dead...

because of servant.