What do I have to do?
The question seeps like a broken sore in my brain. That cold fear returns, and with it a sense of inevitability. An answer sneers out of the darkness, like a ghost that lurks in the shadows, waiting to rush out when I turn my back. "Nothing," it says, "You know this is hopeless. You're a joke. You're not worth a damn, and you never were."
It ain't the answer I want, but it's the only one that makes any goddamn sense.
That dago fuck just won't die.
Then it hits me. My god, how long has it been? How long has this charade gone on? How many have died in our names? It's nights like this I know I'll never get any sleep. Whenever I close my eyes all I can think is that even death won't release us from this farce. There's a special corner in Hell for both of us, full of damned souls we've sacrificed like chess pieces. Full of broken shells and the stink of charred meat. I smell it with every breath I take.
I wonder if he even knows why I try. I'm not talking about the money, the stars, or the dames. That's the excuse, not the reason. What does he get out of it? Power? Drugs? Tell me he's not just in it for the pussy. Please, God, let there be something more to it.
Me? Yeah. I got a reason. I got a lot of reasons. One by one I watch my children rolled past on slabs, cold and stiff, his boot prints all over them. Their necks splintered. Skulls crushed. They had to ID my little girl by dental records. Charred into an unrecognizable mass. Dropped my eldest son out of an airship at 50,000 feet. He probably doesn't even remember.
But I fucking remember. I remember every fucking one, and when I get that rat fuck wop of a plumber I'm gonna carve their names into him. Even if this goes on and on and on for decades, I know one thing for a fucking certainty.
I'm still here, asshole. I'm still the king. He's going to get old. He's going to get slow. One day he'll slip, maybe catch a Bullet Bill in between the eyes that he never saw coming. Maybe not. But time catches up with everyone eventually, and I was ruling this fucking kingdom before that scarlet shit was an itch in his daddy's nuts. I'll be here long after he's gone. I'm gonna live to see it. I'm gonna stand over him when he's on his death bed, and all the mushrooms in the world aren't gonna save him.
And I'm gonna show him what inevitability really is.
Then it hits me. My god, how long has it been? How long has this charade gone on? How many have died in our names? It's nights like this I know I'll never get any sleep. Whenever I close my eyes all I can think is that even death won't release us from this farce. There's a special corner in Hell for both of us, full of damned souls we've sacrificed like chess pieces. Full of broken shells and the stink of charred meat. I smell it with every breath I take.
I wonder if he even knows why I try. I'm not talking about the money, the stars, or the dames. That's the excuse, not the reason. What does he get out of it? Power? Drugs? Tell me he's not just in it for the pussy. Please, God, let there be something more to it.
Me? Yeah. I got a reason. I got a lot of reasons. One by one I watch my children rolled past on slabs, cold and stiff, his boot prints all over them. Their necks splintered. Skulls crushed. They had to ID my little girl by dental records. Charred into an unrecognizable mass. Dropped my eldest son out of an airship at 50,000 feet. He probably doesn't even remember.
But I fucking remember. I remember every fucking one, and when I get that rat fuck wop of a plumber I'm gonna carve their names into him. Even if this goes on and on and on for decades, I know one thing for a fucking certainty.
I'm still here, asshole. I'm still the king. He's going to get old. He's going to get slow. One day he'll slip, maybe catch a Bullet Bill in between the eyes that he never saw coming. Maybe not. But time catches up with everyone eventually, and I was ruling this fucking kingdom before that scarlet shit was an itch in his daddy's nuts. I'll be here long after he's gone. I'm gonna live to see it. I'm gonna stand over him when he's on his death bed, and all the mushrooms in the world aren't gonna save him.
And I'm gonna show him what inevitability really is.
