Oh come on! They want to try and cut me up! I want them to try and cut me up! We’re simpatico here. What’s so difficult about getting permission to cut a man’s head open? See, this is why I never ask permission. I just cut. Then again, I’m not usually looking for anything either, so it’s not a completely analogous situation.
I wouldn’t mind having my head opened up. After that last batch of paralysis, I caught a bit of an ear infection. There’s so much pressure over there, the thought of drilling through the ear has barraged my mind. I’d even be willing to sing “I’m a Little Teapot” while tipping my head over and pouring the gunk out. And it’s gunk, I know that for sure. I turn one way and I felt it drain out of my ear just slightly. When I tip the other way, it slid into my nose and throat.
My own experiences with snot are why I figure it’s no coincidence that mucus has “cus” in it. In fact, if you look at it…M-U-CUS.
Sweet mother of mayhem. Make You Cuss. I don’t remember who invented the word, but they have my nod of Snark-based Respect. It’s a bit different from my nod of Grudging Manly Respect, which in turn bears little resemblance to my nod of Dutiful Asian Daughter. The big difference between those last two is the lack of clenched arms and oiled muscles. Those Asian high school bodybuilder chicks know their shit. They just don’t get the Manly nod because bodybuilders are the yap dogs of athletes. They look nice and constantly beg for attention, but their little jaws don’t have any power. Also, they have tiny balls.
Then again, that’s an accomplishment for the Asian teenage girls. You know, now I have to wonder if they go and get jobs as Bangkok strippers after high school…I may be developing the Grand Unified Theory of Asian Women here. Horny white guys pay good money for that sort of thing.
Ah! And there was another stab of pain in between the dull ache of my throbbing ear.
Anyway, despite my yearning for them to attempt brain surgery on me, they held off. The press caught wind thanks to my fake wife and caused a minor uproar. I guess I wasn’t that likable of a serial killer. Wait, I’ve gotten ahead of myself. I only heard about the uproar at all thanks to…
“The press found out about you, somehow. They’ve got a leak. The ACLU wasn’t happy to hear how people in the Rubik’s Cube were treated,” Venus said. Oh no, the ACLU got upset! Like anyone ever bothered to pay attention to the organization using the legal system to protect their basic human rights. Ha! The only right most Americans even know they have is the right to their opinion. They screwed that up by not understanding the difference between opinions and facts.
It escalates like that. First people are dumbasses, then they’re ignorant, and soon you think maybe life was better when you only had one idiot to worry about at the very top. They called that guy “King” because if you didn’t, he’d have you stabbed. That’s classic linguistics: words with swords.
“I’m sure everyone started crying me a river,” I told Venus. “I bet people really lost sleep over it. How many parades did they throw?”
“Three, because everyone’s still disorganized from what you did,” she answered me. “Then news got out that they want your head cut open and part of your brain removed and people got somewhat ashamed. You shouldn’t be treated like that, Gecko.”
I shrugged. “Locking me up has consequences. Nice job saving my life, huh? A swift trial by a jury of people you laughably call my peers ending in a death sentence. In this case, they’re upset more people didn’t get to say I needed to die. What’s the difference to them? The difference to me, at least, is I could at least have faced death without a migraine.”
“The doctors told me that was a withdrawal symptom. We know what you were dependent on, so this is good, right?” Venus tried to lower her voice, but far too much happiness radiated off the end of that last question. “You will go through a little suffering, but it will make things better in the long run.”
I shook my head. “That is absolute bull. There’s nothing good in suffering. It’s nothing to aspire to, and it’s not noble, no matter what you and the rest of your lying world say. I stopped listening to people saying my suffering was a good thing a long time ago. You know why? Because every single time, my suffering was a good thing for them and their goals only. Everywhere I look, I see people who have been psychologically abused to the point that they now think pain is good and pleasure is evil because suffering makes a person better. Ask someone with kids which they prefer: the way a child’s face lights up on getting a toy or a congratulations, or that betrayed expression one of them gets when you beat them. Maybe I’m insane by your standards, but I’d say anyone who gets their jollies seeing the kids beat is the one you really need to keep an eye on.”
I’d started rocking, and I’d started ranting, and it seemed a poor idea to stop either at the time. After all, it wasn’t everyday my verbal jousting with Venus had the potential to knock her off her high horse. “Suffering, my ass. That’s like that moronic saying where if something doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger. Try testing that with some science, go ahead. Go tell a heart attack victim that they’re stronger now that they’ve got a permanently weakened heart with a big, fat scar on it. If you’re going to be that high and mighty around me, Venus, at least do so because you’re on PCP.”
When Venus spoke up, she did so tersely, as if a disciplined student chastened by a spanking. I suddenly wondered what she’d look like getting spanked in a Catholic schoolgirl’s outfit. “If it’s so wrong to you, why do you like it so much?”
I nodded my head, as if it was a good question. “Well, it all started when men held me at gun- and knifepoint and threatened to kill me if I didn’t learn to murder people. From there, I quickly became the man I am today: a narcissistic serial killer. What’s their excuse?” I held my arms out wide, indicated the world and the multitude of uncountable alternate universes in the multiverse. “Only thing is, I seem to be the one who knows, at least on an intellectual level, when I’m doing the wrong thing. You know, sometimes a person is insane because something is wrong with them, but sometimes a person is insane because they’re surrounded by crazies who decide what’s sane and insane.”
I grinned at Venus. Those unpunchable barriers went both ways, as my hands could attest to. She did answer me, finally, “They think something is wrong with you, by the way. You’ve got bad wiring in your brain. That’s something that can be fixed. It’s like the withdrawal, you don’t have to keep on being the person you hate. There are treatments for the PTSD and the Borderline Personality Disorder. Don’t be too stubborn to get saved just because you hate me. I can’t be that bad if I’m trying to save your life, can I?”
“Yeah, well maybe I don’t want to suffer for the sake of your status quo.”
A fist came out of nowhere and knocked me off my seat. Pretty sure it was a fist. I guess y’all could say I never saw it coming. I took my eye off the ball. By the time I stood up and tried to swing back, the wall let me know it was there. In fact, it asserted its position quite vigorously upon the bones and flesh of my hand. “Ah! Son of a Beelzebub!”
She tapped me on the shoulder. I didn’t turn and immediately try to punch her. I’d have wound up punched again. Sometimes, I get tired of punching, and she obviously wanted to provoke me into attacking. I just folded my arms.
From behind me, Venus said, “Good. Don’t fight this. It’s the best choice you can make. I’ll get this procedure stopped, but I don’t think I can get you moved except for good behavior.” She emphasized the last two words with a poke in the back. If it was another attempt to bait me, I didn’t take it. Venus could put her hands all over me, but I didn’t have to let her bait me. Not even if she was a master. Or a mistress.
Which would make an awful lot of sense, as much as she enjoys hitting me. And the skintight clothing. And her urge to punish me. I reached up and tugged at my jumpsuit’s collar.
“What are you doing, Gecko?”
“Just making sure you weren’t getting any ideas, you law dominatrix. Lawminatrix. Actually, that’d be a good name…do any heroes go by Lawminatrix?”
Venus’s voice moved further back. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”
I turned around and felt for the chair of mine to straddle the seat. I felt it, but then it dropped away as I lowered myself to it. Venus caught me before I could hit the floor. As she helped me up, I asked, “You’re sure you can get them to stop this surgery?”
Venus didn’t keep holding onto me. She wasn’t an idiot, after all. Once she knew I was steady on my feet, she let go and backed off. “Definitely. I haven’t let you die yet, Gecko. Why start now? I’m more famous than I have a right to be now that I put you in jail. I’ve been using that to make people remember you’re still a person with thoughts and feel-”
I could have let her finish, but I felt like being petty. “Overseers!”
“You rang?” asked Ass.
“Shut it,” said Dick, “Not you, Gecko. Why did you call us?”
“I figured I could solve some legal problem for y’all real quick. I volunteer for your little procedure. I’ll sign on the dotted line and everything.”
“Deal!” exclaimed both Dick and Ass.
“Gecko!” yelled Venus from behind me.
I held up a finger, “One condition, real quick. She doesn’t get to be there. I don’t even want her on premises.” I pointed back to where Venus probably stood. She had a knack for being a pain in my ass. I couldn’t risk her ruining my escape plan by keeping the doctors from trying to cut my head open and remove part of my brain.
She didn’t take that well. “I know you have a plan, Gecko. That’s what this is! Do you hear this, you guys? This is a ploy by Psycho Gecko.”
“Psh,” I said, “Of course it’s a plan. They already knew that. Hey guys, didn’t y’all know I had a plan?”
“See?” I grinned and plopped onto my bed. “I have a plan, they know I have a plan, and you know I have a plan. They have a plan, too. Just like you’ve got a plan to try and sneak in while it’s going down. Now whenever they wheel me into the operating room, we’ll settle this plan to plan.”
Before they ushered Venus out of the room, she told me in parting, “I’m not going to let you kill yourself, but I’m not going to let you loose, either.”
I laughed to myself. “We’ll see how it goes, Venus. May the best plan win.”