You little punk, sit down before I knock you down.
Christ, you think it’s tough being you. Truth is, you have too many choices. “Oh, but it’s so hard.” Yeah, it’s hard to make tough choices. You wanna know a tough choice? What about being in the trench and being the only one to see a grenade fall between your commander’s feet? Do you push him out of the way, fall on it and give that sonuvabitch another chance lead his boys to victory? Or do you take cover and pray that maybe you will make it back to hold your baby girl again? That’s a tough choice, kid. What makes it easier is knowing if he made it out of there, he would probably go home to drink like a fish and beat his wife for years until she shoots him dead. They don’t tell you about that part in the recruitment office, and it sure as hell doesn’t get you a ticker tape parade.
You jump around like a retarded kangaroo, shouting to everyone that life’s unfair. Yeah, sure it’s unfair. Unfair for you is an 11pm curfew. Unfair for me is being in the muck and watching Charlie gunning down my pals and skull fucking their corpses, laughing like hyenas. That’s unfair, but I ain’t crying about it.
Sure, life’s tough. Daddy only bought you a used Lexus for your 16th birthday. That’s real a tough thing. Trauma like that will make you strong, make you a man, right? Well, see these? My old man never bought me a car, he only used my arm as an ashtray to put out his cigarettes. Yeah, poor me, right? Fuck that, son.
You think you can sit there forever and be a itty bitty kitten and mew until your mommy comes and gives you a drink from her teet. Grow up, kid; the milk’s dried up. Your Mom’s a whore and she secretly resents you for your youth and your freedom, so get used to it and move on.
No, I get it, you’ve got anger. Nobody understands you, you’re all alone in this world. But here’s the fact kid: Nobody understands you, and nobody wants to. Yeah, that’s right, nobody wants to understand poor little you, boo hoo. When did you make an effort to understand your old man, anyway, huh? You’re mad that your parents lied to you over the years? They kept your sheltered and safe from the world for as long as they could and you think you have a right to be mad about it? You feel betrayed that there’s really no Santa Claus? Betrayal, yeah, I’ll tell you about betrayal.
You know what betrayal feels like? It’s like being in a Beijing nightclub, feeling the business end of an eight inch blade plunge through your ribs. Betrayal is your partner telling you that it was either him or you; the Deng family did not take kindly to our truancy and that this was the only way one of us could stay in their employ. Yeah, that’s betrayal, kid. And taking down a traitorous friend and sleeping with his wife doesn’t make it any easier to swallow or forget.
Do me a favor, kid. After you get that pretty college degree and start your own family, try not to spoil your demonspawn and make them into ungrateful little bastards like your parents did to you. I’d hate to have to put a foot up their asses too, understand?
Free Soup With Purchase 