Escape And Seek Revenge On The Author!
“Heads! Cuz I get a shit-ton of head. Get it? Heads/head! Get it? Yeeeah you know it!” brags Bieber, gyrating his hips in your general direction. You suppress the urge to vomit.
The silvery speck lands squarely back on the flat of my hand. I cover it quickly with the other hand, hoping you won't realize that I've just in fact substituted this coin with my double-tails trick coin that I got in a Let's-Do Magic! playset for my ninth birthday. I fooled you! Sucker! I fooled you! You really thought I'd play fair? What a dumbass!
You remain totally oblivious to my clever bait-and-switch as I reveal the outcome to be … TAILS! Oh, you are so fucked, my friend. I start to quiver ever so slightly as I roll my tank over and unwind the hose.
“Now you just hold nice and still…”
But for some reason which will always elude me, you swipe away the hose as if it were an annoying fly and say, “Do you really think I’m just going to stand here and let you shoot me?”
“Well, um, that’s the way it happened in…”
“Derivative asshole!”, you shout, and before I know what’s going on, you’ve got that hose wrapped so many times around my own little neck, I can hardly breathe. Um, excuse me, I’m a bit uncomfortable here. You’re making it sort of hard for me to kill you... But all you hear is, “Gurgle splll baarr grrr glyububub”. It’s a sad day for me, really. I knew I shouldn’t have let my guard down, turned the lights on, and exposed my puny little person like that. It’s just that…Bieber, he was so close…I love you, Justin. I …I…
My eyes start to water as you continue throttling me and it really is a mystery who exactly has taken over the narration now because I will in fact, under one minute’s time, be stone dead. From the corner of my vision I start to see dancing bunnies in sombreros. Ah, this must be heaven!
I die.
Well, now it’s just you and Bieber and…wait a minute. “I” am dead so there’s no more “you” here at all. Let’s get our relational pronouns right, shall we? “I” is dead, which means “you” are the new “I”. Congratulations are in order I believe. It’s not every day you get to shift narrators in a story, especially right at the climax. How groundbreaking!
Anyway, I’m (the artist formerly known as “you’re”) looking around at everything with the new eye of possession and domination which is part and parcel of becoming a first person.
“I wonder”, you…I mean, I, say. “I wonder what would happen if I just decided to stay here, maybe take up the family business and all. After everything that’s happened to me here, I certainly can’t go back to boring old life as I knew it. And this house would actually be pretty bangin’ without all the Bieber shit laming it up.”
“Hey!” objects Bieber. You’d almost forgotten about him.
“Biebs,” I say, “Justin. Here’s the deal. I think I’m gonna stay here for awhile. Clean the place up. Nobody has to know about this. So, um, if you don’t tell anyone about this house, then I won’t tell anyone about those two dead hookers in your car. Deal?”
“Yeah, okay” says Justin after a second or two of consideration. “But if I ever see you again, I’ll totally kick your ass!”
“Uh huh. Just be sure to take all your stupid fucking posters with you on the way out, eh?”
“Eh!”
“Right. So. What now?” I look down at the blue-tinged corpse with the hose wrapped around its neck and feel a certain sort of satisfaction, maybe even a little thrill. “Maybe,” I say aloud to myself for narrative purposes, “Maybe I’ll just make my own Betamax recording, set my own ingenious traps and lie in wait for the next poor sucker to stumble upon this house. Yes, that’s it! Muahahahaha! And the best part is, that’s never been done before! I’m not a derivative asshole because the whole notion of the protégé taking over the grim business is completely brand- spanking new! Ahahahahaha!”
The silvery speck lands squarely back on the flat of my hand. I cover it quickly with the other hand, hoping you won't realize that I've just in fact substituted this coin with my double-tails trick coin that I got in a Let's-Do Magic! playset for my ninth birthday. I fooled you! Sucker! I fooled you! You really thought I'd play fair? What a dumbass!
You remain totally oblivious to my clever bait-and-switch as I reveal the outcome to be … TAILS! Oh, you are so fucked, my friend. I start to quiver ever so slightly as I roll my tank over and unwind the hose.
“Now you just hold nice and still…”
But for some reason which will always elude me, you swipe away the hose as if it were an annoying fly and say, “Do you really think I’m just going to stand here and let you shoot me?”
“Well, um, that’s the way it happened in…”
“Derivative asshole!”, you shout, and before I know what’s going on, you’ve got that hose wrapped so many times around my own little neck, I can hardly breathe. Um, excuse me, I’m a bit uncomfortable here. You’re making it sort of hard for me to kill you... But all you hear is, “Gurgle splll baarr grrr glyububub”. It’s a sad day for me, really. I knew I shouldn’t have let my guard down, turned the lights on, and exposed my puny little person like that. It’s just that…Bieber, he was so close…I love you, Justin. I …I…
My eyes start to water as you continue throttling me and it really is a mystery who exactly has taken over the narration now because I will in fact, under one minute’s time, be stone dead. From the corner of my vision I start to see dancing bunnies in sombreros. Ah, this must be heaven!
I die.
Well, now it’s just you and Bieber and…wait a minute. “I” am dead so there’s no more “you” here at all. Let’s get our relational pronouns right, shall we? “I” is dead, which means “you” are the new “I”. Congratulations are in order I believe. It’s not every day you get to shift narrators in a story, especially right at the climax. How groundbreaking!
Anyway, I’m (the artist formerly known as “you’re”) looking around at everything with the new eye of possession and domination which is part and parcel of becoming a first person.
“I wonder”, you…I mean, I, say. “I wonder what would happen if I just decided to stay here, maybe take up the family business and all. After everything that’s happened to me here, I certainly can’t go back to boring old life as I knew it. And this house would actually be pretty bangin’ without all the Bieber shit laming it up.”
“Hey!” objects Bieber. You’d almost forgotten about him.
“Biebs,” I say, “Justin. Here’s the deal. I think I’m gonna stay here for awhile. Clean the place up. Nobody has to know about this. So, um, if you don’t tell anyone about this house, then I won’t tell anyone about those two dead hookers in your car. Deal?”
“Yeah, okay” says Justin after a second or two of consideration. “But if I ever see you again, I’ll totally kick your ass!”
“Uh huh. Just be sure to take all your stupid fucking posters with you on the way out, eh?”
“Eh!”
“Right. So. What now?” I look down at the blue-tinged corpse with the hose wrapped around its neck and feel a certain sort of satisfaction, maybe even a little thrill. “Maybe,” I say aloud to myself for narrative purposes, “Maybe I’ll just make my own Betamax recording, set my own ingenious traps and lie in wait for the next poor sucker to stumble upon this house. Yes, that’s it! Muahahahaha! And the best part is, that’s never been done before! I’m not a derivative asshole because the whole notion of the protégé taking over the grim business is completely brand- spanking new! Ahahahahaha!”
