Disclaimer: Not mine…tear.
A/N: Thanks once again to the AMAZING Niki for giving me ideas for secrets. One of the lines in here is completely and 100 hers!
MARK
I'm singing in the rain…I'm singing in the rain…whatever, whatever…singing in the rain. You know what? It totally defeats the whole purpose of singing that song when it's raining and your inside. Like me. I'm singing 'Singing in the Rain' while inside on a rainy day. Not cool, right? Exactly. Totally not cool or appropriate. So what is appropriate for the occasion? Oh, I know. That Madonna song Maureen always pretends to throw up during! No…that won't work. I only sing showtunes. All the other stuff is what Roger will sing, or, if he deems himself to manly, one of the girls will sing. I sing showtunes and showtunes only. Which leads to my first secret I'd die if anyone ever found out: I love showtunes and I kind of have always wanted to be on Broadway. That's part of the reason why I first decided to go out with Maureen.
Speaking of her, she just called. Which means she wants something. Or she's just outrageously horny. The first one sucks, but the second…well, if that's what she wants, it's totally okay by me. I don't think I'll complain about that. I mean, I knew this would happen. I knew she'd get bored with Joanne and she'd come crawling back to me. I knew she would come back. They always come back. No really, they do. I know what your thinking. Why would I be one of those guys the girls always come crawling back to? Usually, that's reserved for people like Roger. But, what can I say…I am fucking irresistible…pun intended! Secret number two I'd never want anyone to find out, though they'd never guess it anyway: I am a complete stud muffin. The girls, they can't resist me. And I know it.
Aside from the fact that girls always come crawling back to me, I kind of sensed Maureen would want me back sooner or later. I can sense a lot of things. I sensed that we'd all meet that fateful Christmas Eve. I sensed that Roger would eventually get out of the house. I sensed that we would all turn out okay, even after the hell of a year we went through. Let's just say that I sense a lot of things. Usually, they turn out correctly. Secret three no one will ever find out: I am kind of psychic. It's like I have ESP or whatever. I forgot what ESP stands for, so I'll assume I'm saying the right thing. I'm sensing it's the right thing, which means that ESP is probably the correct acronym and I am sensing that it is with my ESP.
Right now, my ESP is telling me that I should be reading the newspaper. Joanne left one here yesterday. Except, the only part of the newspaper I can ever focus on is the comics. So obviously, the fourth secret is: I still love the comics in the newspaper, no matter how childish that sounds. Especially The Peanuts. I love that silly Charlie Brown and I always thought that he and Lucy should get together, be high school sweethearts, get married, and have lots and lots of adorable babies. My first ever crush was on Lucy, no matter how ridiculous that sounds.
Wow, this is weird. I have totally deviated from my original purpose, whatever that was. So right now, I'm really bored. Maybe calling Maureen back is a good idea. No, it isn't. Stop telling yourself that! Calling Maureen is never a good idea! Unless you want to have the best sex—I mean unless you want to be hurt. Yes, Maureen hurts people…with all the kinky shit she does. I mean she hurts them emotionally. Why do I put up with all of this? Secret five no one will ever know: I like to get hurt. Physically, emotionally, I find it extremely appealing to be hurt. Don't ask why, I don't even know…but I do.
I think being left-handed is genetic, and if it is, I hate my genes. You see, I'm a lefty and it's retarded. I love my right hand. I hate my left hand. It seems like a cruel trick of fate to make me left-handed when we all know that I wish I had two right hands. I try not to use my left hand for anything. I even tried to be ambidextrous just so I wouldn't have to use my left hand to write. That didn't work out, but it's easier to do other things without your left hand. Which leads to secret six: that night when Angel died, the night everyone had sex and broke up ("It's over."), I broke up with my left hand officially, if you know what I mean. I tossed it aside, said "It's over," and turned to my right hand. Want to know what I said to my beloved right hand, "How you doin'?"
Benny came over yesterday. Random, I know. He came over just to "hang out," which is just Benny's way of buttering us up to make us like him again. Want to know what would really make me like him again? Of course you do. You obviously have nothing better to do than to read my little secrets anyway. What would really make me like him again would be him giving me the Range Rover. Secret seven: I really want Benny's Range Rover. Seriously, it's like the prefect car and it's gorgeous and I want it. Well, I also kind of want it for another reason. I want to say to Benny, "Hey Benny! Get your ass of that Range Rover! It's mine bitch!" Oh what a wonderful world that would be.
Oh look! It stopped raining. Yay! Now I am free to go over to Maureen's…no, no I will not go to Maureen's. I will not have sex with her today. I will not have sex with her tomorrow. After everything she's done to me, I should never want to have sex with her again. But I do. It's because of the eighth secret. I, Mark Cohen, certified glue that hold the group together/one to survive/nice Jewish boy, is a slut and a horn dog. And no, I do not mean horn dog as in all Jews have horns, or whatever that shit is. I think you know the kind I mean.
You know what's a funny word? Fork. Fork is a really funny word. So is Spork. Except the way Roger says it. Ever since high school, he has said it really weirdly. Not even weird. Scary. Secret nine: I am absolutely terrified of the way Roger says Spork. I never thought it possible that such a funny word could sound so scary. But he apparently did. I have nightmares about the way the dude says Spork, no joke. I had a nightmare once where he killed me with a Spork. Then I died and I don't know what he did with the Spork and I after, but I am sure it wasn't anything too pleasant.
This has been quite a journey. I have reveled eight silly, one retarded, and one serious secret. And yet I still have to leave one more. Maybe I should leave an idea. Yes. Secret ten no one would ever guess: I have some secrets that would make your hair stand on end. I just choose not to confess them.