5 times Bitch Boy is a resentful little bitch + 1 time he Is Not
1.
Bitch Boy wasn't born yesterday. He has lived in the world, he knows his way around town, girls usually make eye contact with his physical form when he walks directly in front of their sightlines.
"In other words," drawls Bitch Boy to his circle of onlookers, "I'm the shit."
When he doesn't get appreciative laughter, he peels his eyes open from the slightly drunk yet charming look he had affected to see what his onlookers thought. Murderer seems constipated. Or maybe trying to read the menu. Thatcher's frowning off to the side. Bitch Boy narrows his eyes for dramatic effect.
"Whatchu lookin at bruv?" he asks with an inexplicable Scottish accent.
Thatcher falls off his chair. "Oh! Nothing nothing. I just like to herd goats. I mean pigs. I mean I'm a pig."
"Too true," says a woman in blue as she passes by. A beautiful man skulks after her.
"Anyway!" yells Thatcher. Several more women dodge away from their table, widening the radius of empty chairs around them.
Bitch Boy narrows his eyes further, allowing him to see more than 2 feet in front of his goddamn face, and looks in the direction Thatcher had been frowning. Aha! Who could it be but that one girl who had a freckle on her nose!
"HIGUAIN!" screams Bitch Boy. "My favorite soccer player!"
Nose Freckle looks up from where she is dousing her head in a bucket of water. Thatcher collapses in agony, bringing several people closer in the hopes that he might die.
"It's not my fault you're a creepy stalker who picked raspberries with some rando one time," snarks Bitch Boy, picking up another tankard. "Blame your cabin dad for that one."
2.
The next morning Bitch Boy doesn't feel so good. He's not sure why. He had all the ingredients of a perfect night! Lots of ale, people seemed to acknowledge his jokes, AND he stole something from the poor woman who lives next door. Sure, his wallet got taken, but that happens every night. He's not like a professional guard or something. Why would he be expected to take care of that!
But something feels off about how the night went. And Bitch Boy is determined to bully his various stupid friends into telling him what they think. He tries Murderer first.
"Heyyyyyy what's upppppp!" Bitch Boy launches into Murderer's home, where his stoic wife is hitting a piece of metal over and over.
"COULD YOU REPEAT YOURSELF MY WIFE IS HITTING A PIECE OF METAL OVER AND OVER!" Murderer yells, emerging from the back room.
Bitch Boy rolls his eyes. Must he be the only one with one speck of intelligence in the entire Two Rivers town? He seizes Murderer by the arm, needing to go back with another hand because his first hand only got ¼ the way around Murderer's lumberous arm, and pulls him outside. His wife looks up only to glare at them.
"Okay, Murderer. I know you were struggling yesterday, we all know it's hard for you to have thoughts. But you have to tell me. What was different about yesterday? Why was it so weird?"
Murderer gives him a nonplussed stare. Then again, this is his reaction to absolutely anything. Bitch Boy decides to make it simpler.
"Why did yesterday suck?"
"Oh! Uh. I think maybe you were jealous?"
Huh? Is Murderer honestly the stupidest person on earth?
"Why would I be jealous of Higuain? She's a braided nose-freckle who swims in water!" says Bitch Boy indignantly.
Murderer's giving him the weird look again.
"HELLO? IS YOUR BRAIN WORKING?" Bitch Boy begins to whack Murderer on the side of the skull.
"I was talking about you being jealous of me, because I have such a wonderful wife who does not have a name and will never be murdered by anyone, least of all by me, Murderer," says Murderer with a smug little smile on his face.
"Oh. Well I don't even know why I mentioned Nose Freckle in the first place. Probably because she's the only person who isn't actively revolting that I've ever seen in this village."
With that, Bitch Boy leaves. Who looks foolish now, Murderer?
3.
After one visit, Bitch Boy has exhausted his list of friends. Yes, Thatcher is also his friend. In fact, Thatcher might be his best friend. One time, Bitch Boy had stolen six goblets of poison from an apothecary, drunk them all, and tried to seduce this woman with a weird jaw and red clothes by dancing to "Man's Not Hot" on a table. Although she kept saying, "I absolutely agree with you, #man is not hot," it was clearly not happening, in most part because Bitch Boy seemed to be dying from the goblets of poison. Who would have thought. Thatcher had called Nyasdjsd and then sat there the entire time she did free labor curing him from his self-induced illness. Thatcher had even squeezed his hand once.
But Thatcher is not the person to ask about last night. Thatcher is probably off trying to make out with Nose Freckle in the middle of the inn.
Instead, Bitch Boy starts walking down to the local field. He pauses, though, when he starts to hear some strange sounds.
"ooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooo SHAMIIIIIIIIIIIII"
What could that be?
"ahhhhhAHHHHHHHHHHH basmati vinCERRRRRRREEEEEE"
Oh. It was just the background music that played in the town. Bitch Boy's younger sisters had auditioned for the choir a few years back and had been accepted as trainees. Right now they were allowed to join on the wordless swells of vowels, but they had yet to be trusted with the Latineek that the Elders sang.
Bitch Boy continues on his way, singing a nice little ditty with his classically trained voice.
"DID I HEAR SOMEONE SAY ORGANIZED SINGING AND CHANT?"
Bitch Boy jumps six feet straight up into the air. To the great sadness of an audience member hidden in a nearby tree, he is not injured on the way back down.
"It is your friendly neighborhood POGWOGGLE!"
A strange man pokes his head out from behind a bush. Then he pokes out one hand, madly jazz-handing, and then the other one. Clad in a khaki-green Thneed, he emerges the rest of the way, high-kicking.
"POGWOGGLE! Wouldn't want to meet! POGWOGGLE! In an alley or a darkened street! POGWOGGLE! WHY WHY WHY!"
"Who the f are you?" asks Bitch Boy.
"I am Bard Pogwogglius the Lesser," intones the man. "Renowned for my whistle tones, sought after for my wails of joy, acclaimed for my ability to match frequencies with buildings and bring them down!"
"Interesting," says Bitch Boy. "Normally to continue my reputation of being a little bitch I would simply stomp off. But anyone would exit at top speed here. I guess I must stay."
Two hours later, Bitch Boy concludes that this is the most fun he's had in a while.
"I love, like, hanging out and being annoying."
4.
Bitch Boy is in a great mood after that, so he decides to go see what Thatcher is up to. They typically spend Saturdays together, doing typical platonic friends things like taking steam baths together, sharing an intimate emotional connection that allows them to feel each other's feelings, touching each other's hands and wordlessly staring into each other's eyes, and the like. Just bros being bros.
When Bitch Boy walks into the room he shares with Thatcher, though, he is faced with a scene of true horror. Thatcher! And Higuain! Sharing the same air space!
"Well what the hell are you two up to?" he asks angrily.
Thatcher and Higuain look pissed off. They're probably mad to be interrupted, thinks Bitch Boy. He contemplates breathing all the black gunk out of his chest and stabbing some innocent families.
"Absolutely nothing is happening here!" snarls Higuain.
"Why would you say nothing is happening?" wails Thatcher.
Bitch Boy tries to breathe, knowing his eyes are turning a sickly puke yellow while his nose bleeds.
"It's not like you'll ever give me another boisonberry!" Higuain is speaking calmly now, flipping her braid around to remind everyone of who she is. Thatcher only seems to get more agitated, looking between Bitch Boy and Higuain with panic.
Bitch Boy can't hold the toxic evil in his chest any longer. "I'll give you a poison berry every day of your life which will only be one more day!"
Thatcher looks confused. Higuain bursts into laughter and leaves.
5.
Bitch Boy and Thatcher stare at each other for a good two hours after Higuain leaves. Their time together is usually incredibly boring for others, even though they find it rewarding. Well, at least Bitch Boy does. Who knows what Thatcher is thinking now that he has been Seduced By a Trollop.
After Bitch Boy thinks about the Trollops one too many times, he simply turns around and walks out of the cabin. On his way to yell at his parents, he runs into a man with a very bad wig.
"Hhhhhhhhhhhheeeeeelllllllllllllllooooooooooo," says the man.
"Hi." Bitch Boy is not in the mood for this.
"Yyyyyyyyyyyoooooooouuuuuuu mmmmmmuuuuussssstttttt bbbbbeeee aaaaaaa Lllllllllaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiioooooooouuuuuu."
"I cannot even tell what you are saying. If you don't come with an option to selectively speed up your voice by 1.6 times, I may have to start skipping through your scenes. You are incredibly boring."
"Hhhhhhhhhhhhhooooooooowwwwwwwww rrrrrrrrruuuuuuuuuddddddeeeeee,,,,,,,, Llllllllllaaaaaaaaaaooooooooaaaaaaaooooooouwu."
"I'm going for a walk. If you're here when I get back, I'm going to walk to freaking Sixteen Rivers so that I never have to hear your character speak again."
With that, Bitch Boy heads into the forest. Maybe he can find some Trollops.
+ 1.
Finally, some peace and quiet. Bitch Boy listens to the birdies sing. He smells the burning corpses. And he admires the nice rock formations commonly found in the Czech Republic.
Just when he's beginning to think that all he needs to be less of a bitch is some alone time #introvertlifestyle, he hears the rustling of some nearby vines. Not again! Which irrelevant character could it be this time! Some tattooed tot? A man getting sucked into a whirlpool for no reason?
But instead, Thatcher is the one who pops out of the tree. He's panting a little, like the times he did all of the chores that the two of them were supposed to do. Always a good look.
"Bitch Boy! I'm so glad I caught up to you."
"Why would you care?" mutters Bitch Boy.
"Why would I care?! Because you're the only person I do care about!" proclaims Thatcher. "I don't give a shit about the village! Who cares about Nose Freckle? I just latched onto her because she was the only girl who talked to me after my hair turned red. I don't care about anything except my own personal glory – and you!"
Bitch Boy could not believe it. Thatcher….liked him?
"I know you're just going to insult me in return," continues Thatcher. "It's okay. That's why I love you. You have bewitched me, brain and saul."
"But I don't want to insult you!" It bursts out of Bitch Boy before he can stop it. "You're the only person I don't want to be a little bitch to! You make me want to become more boring. Maybe some day we can polish swords together and count our goats."
Thatcher stares at him. "Who are you and what have you done with my Bitch Boy?"
Bitch Boy gives him an indulgent chuckle. "Lo, the transforming power of love."
Thatcher continues to stare. "No, really. I fear you may have been possessed by the One True Force of Evil. Or perhaps a trollop. I am going to have to take you to the White Tower so that Moiraine can praise me."
"Moiraine! What a pathetic little wizard. She knows nothing! And I know that she knows nothing because I know nothing about her!" scoffs Bitch Boy.
Thatcher's worry clears. "There you are," he says, sweeping Bitch Boy into his arms.
"Now we can journey to Seventeen Rivers together," says Bitch Boy. "Banish me, so that we will be together forever."
"I banish you," vows Thatcher. And they were together for the next fifteen days, until Bitch Boy stepped off a cliff by mistake and Thatcher got run over by a horse.