So I read the latest DoaWK book (The Deep End) and I'm pleasantly surprised to see that there's actually a happy ending. That's nice since I remember that I felt like Greg kept getting the short end of the stick when I was young. Also, it's been like 8 books, why the hell hasn't Greg gotten into High School?

To guillermo: I'd rate it M but that'd get me a lot less readers. IMO, there's only one reason why people turn on the M filter, and this fic won't go to that direction.

To my other reviewers who left indecipherable or horny shit: Thanks for inflating my review count.


The police talked to me after a few days of getting doped up on painkillers. My head was less messed up by the time the nurse took out the IV, but I didn't have time to react before two of the cops squeezed in through the door and started attacking me with their questions. I've watched enough crime shows to know the good-cop-bad-cop routine like the back of my hand, so at least I didn't beak down into tears (unlike Rodrick who got a a felony scare after getting arrested during a party where the host shoved coke up his own ass), but Cop #1 easily reached six foot five and looked like he could punt me across a football field.

I swear that he glared at me and started growling, so I acted on what I learned about dealing with wildlife on a Tiktok video and half hissed, half screamed back like a banshee. Cop #1 immediately changed his tune and stared like I was the crazy person, but I know that it was because I was getting very close to asserting my Sigma male (true wisdom from red pill YouTube pickup artists) pheromones and dominating his psyche. Cop #2, who kinda looked like dad but really fat, sighed (in relief? fear? I dunno) and started the interrogation. My memory's still fuzzy from the drugs if I was one of those police questioning transcript writers, it probably went like this:

Cop #2:

Sorry 'bout my pardner's behavior. My name's Officer Loafer, and he's Officer Mittens. You doin' good?

Me:

Not really, since my brother Roderick played ping-pong with my skull in the parking lot. Why aren't you guys arresting him?

Officer Mittens:

Shut your trap, dumb kid, before I taze your ass and arrest you for resisting. We're just here to ask you some questions.

Me:

I plead the fifth, fatass.

Officer Mittens:

Excuse me?

Me:

You heard me. I have rights. I'm not saying crap to incriminate myself. (Fuck you, Mittens. Go suck my a*s and get fucked.)

Officer Loafer:

Look, Sonny. You aren't in trouble. We just wanna know more about what happened with your baby brother. Manny, was it? He's looks like cute kid.

Me:

Ha. You wish.

Officer Loafer:

Ah. So ya got a little hellion on your hands, huh? Reminds me of my sister. Tell me about him.

Me:

Manny's the golden child. He's good at everything he did. Mom and Dad never get mad at him, and he knows it. If we did anything he didn't like - even playing a video game - he'd scream and cry and Mom was there to save the day.

Officer Loafer:

That sounds incredibly unfair, Pal. I can see why you'd hate that. ( Officer Loafer was the only adult in my life who understands. )

Me

I know, right? Deep down inside, I know that he's even smarter than me, and I freaking resent that.

Officer Loafer:

So what ended up causing Manny to overdose on 600 milligrams of Diazepam if he's that intelligent?

Me

I dunno. Dad put it on the top shelf of the pantry and we thought that was enough.

Officer Loafer:

Kids are curious, but from your testimony, Manny should be smart enough not to do so. I can only conclude that he had experience with the high that these pills gave beforehand.

Me:

I never gave him pills. I'm not a drug dealer. Speaking of which, Rodrick has his pot dealer saved as "One-Tooth Terry", so why aren't you arresting him?

Officer Loafer:

Who said that you were the one who got your brother hooked?

Me:

You were implying it. I'm sick and tired of people assuming that it's my fault for anything bad that happens. Manny got the pills, read the warning labels, and ate them anyway. His actions have consequences.

Officer Loafer:

That's true, actions do have consequences. Thanks for answering my questions.

The police left with that, but not before Officer Mittens did the menacing "I'm watching you" gesture. I hissed back and flipped the bird.

All that animal kinning made my stomach rumble, and not in a good way. I limped out of the hospital bed, waddled like a pirate with my casted leg to the trash bin. Unexpectedly, I ended up expelling my bodily fluids through both ends. It smelled like our escaped pet pig whenever it'd eat six bean and cheese burritos from the sketchy restaurant near school. And that was how I'd learned that pigs could order by themselves and get arrested for public obscenity. I hate that Dad confiscated me and Rodrick's savings for its bail money, though.

The pungent scent knocked me off my feet and sent me skidding through my self-made swamp of Dagobah. The acrid smell from my bile infused lunch stung my nose while the brown stuff ( Don't. Don't remind me what it is. Ignorance is bliss. ) made me heave again. My vision was greying and I think I screamed bloody murder because I was not going to die in my own choco-sauce and puke before I'd managed to become internet famous and rich.

Luckily, or unluckily, I'd learn soon, the door slid open.

"What the everloving fuck, Greg?"

Rowley and his cousin, Alex, stood at the doorway, mouths open, gaping at me drowning to death in chunks of instant hospital egg, wonderbread, and corn kernels shining like gold in the mud. I saw a bouquet of flowers hit the floor, ruining them after Alex crushed them as he ran towards me.

Not to be ungrateful, but it's lowkey Rowley's fault for buying such a fragile, girly gift anyway. He could've gotten me a twenty as a get well gift instead. I'll have to tell him that next time we hang out, since I consider myself a good friend to him. To be honest, I don't know how he'd manage to socially survive without me.

But that's irrelevant to the fact that I promptly blacked out just as Rowley shrieked for the nurse and Alex rolled me on my back, splashing gunk into my mouth - Yes, I'm living in my own hell and I just can't get the taste of poo à la carte like it's a freaking phantom pain, no matter how many times I chugged air freshener (courtesy of Rodrick's medical knowledge stemming from pro-pot subreddits and a 72 in regular bio) - and probably leaning in to do mouth-to-mouth.

Gosh, I'm getting second-hand embarrassment and dread by writing this.

If this gets out, my social life is over.

The testimonies of two people witnessing me drowning in my own crap like one of Ruby Bird or Fregley's schticks is enough to get me kicked under the totem pole and a bully-on-sight order.

Forget the plastic surgery, I'll have to pack my bags and become a truant living off the grid for the rest of my life.

I wouldn't've been dosed up with drugs that made me puke and choke on my own crud if Rodrick hadn't beaten me up in the parking lot. Going back further, Rodrick wouldn't've attacked me if Manny wasn't sent to the hospital. In fact, Manny started it all by deliberately climbing up to the top of the pantry to get his fix.

This was all Manny's fault.

Officer Loafer was right. It's about time he faced some consequences.


If you have a genuine question regarding OOCness or anything concerning in the story then please log in and leave a review or dm :) I can't efficiently respond to guest reviews as the update schedule for this takes months, but I do check my e-mail more often.

I headcanon that the Heffleys live in a state in America where recreational weed use is illegal. Like, super duper felony-on-first-offense illegal and neither Susan nor Frank approve of any drug usage, and threatened Greg with homelessness if they saw him toking one up. Greg is pissed that his brother can get away with hitting the bong and smoking underage ( his parents turn a blind eye ) while he sees himself as the "good kid" getting screwed over by the universe.