[indent]I must warm from the narrator's point of view that referring to an obvious junkie with the "Hey man" was never going to be successful because the man was not there despite of the location of his body. Nonetheless, thank you very much for trying, you sweet pure damned soul. Much appreciated. By the cat, at least.
[indent]Now, without further ado we shall begin trying to explain the unexplainable, which is - nope, not how Caesar became the Brutus towards himself, but how on this fucking earth did he forget about his precious fluffy ginger goddess that was Candy. And let me tell you, it's gonna be tough, because, well, you know - the Cat is the God, the Religion, the very Divine that existed for Crush... but now he has lost his God, all Gods are dead, all faith murdered, and even the huge soft tail of Candy didn't change his paradigm. All his fucking world, all that he loved was completely and utterly dead for him, including the Cat. No, the cat, I mean... With a small letter from now on... This time he'd rather save the proud Capital letter for something else. The only thing that now mattered to him. The only entity that could bring him the last bits of joy before he peacefully dies in his own shit. Drumroll in the studio please, ladies and gentlemen, because here we go again - Heroin! Or, shall I say, H.E.R.O.I.N.? All letters should be capital, that's how fucking hooked he became. His Eternal Race Onto Internal Nihilism, or maybe just Human Error Randomly Overdosing In Negligence. Yeah, the latter seems legit because this is indeed how he felt when becoming more or less conscious before sticking in the poisonous needle again - as a human error soaked in such levels of negligence, that it even affected the cat... Yes, I mentioned her yet again, but it is after-all the CAT HOLY SHIT, how dare he?! Okay, okay, I promised to explain...
[indent]Well, you see, despite of a then acute intellect and a painfully good understanding of the mechanisms of the world that found their way out in the most unexpectable and mind-bending word play, Caesar Crush was an extremely lone man, but nobody is to blame - it was his and his choice only. Basically, all he really had in this world to him apart words was his cat and the subtle yet immense satisfaction that he obtained from observing the universe. So that you understand the complexity of the situation, the universe here isn't the dark unexplored infinity around us, but quite simply (complicatedly) the magical out-of-this-world interaction of two young men on a spiritual level that completely denied all laws of physics combined together and multiplied by a fucking exponential. It all started with Crush merely checking out their youtube videos and loving the music, but gradually, as time went by, it developed into an obsession to the point where Crush even started writing fan-fiction. Caesar fucking Crush who wrote fucking intellectual dildo puzzle stories for your brain started writing FUCKING FAN-FICTION. Okay, fine, I will admit it was a fairly good one... Candy Crush had a lot of readers on the platform and god sees it was for a reason, even though all else was forever scarred with the "no reason" mantra. So, to sum it all up, Caesar found his meaning, his heart, his soul, his very love in this strange addiction of observing those two together. It (Walt's and Dick's relationship) seemed to him as the only eternal thing in the entire human world, the only pure force that was so full of light it was even able to transform the individually dark LaVey into a cute shy little cat creature. So, you get me now, yeah? Crush was unable to feel that way towards someone himself but he achieved that blissful feeling from watching those two... before the motherfuckers let the universe down, let him down and the whole planet down, down, down the spiral hole. And suddenly it all became pointless. It became apparent, that the only thing Crush deemed to consider beautiful and timeless  had an expiry date. Like everything else. The cat has an expiry date too. Sometimes she's hungry, sometimes she pisses on him while he's asleep, sometimes purrs like a lover and some time she will also die. In addition, it's not like she gives a fuck about Caesar's love - typical Cleopatra adept - and actually, nobody gives a fuck about anyone, and Dick Walker doesn't give a fuck about Walt LaVey, and vice versa, and the whole universe doesn't give a fuck about what's going on in this shithole, and maybe in a parallel universe the good old Caesar would simply turn this into an inspiration and write a new book that would be even darker than all his previous ones, but... in our universe, Crush doesn't give a fuck anymore. About a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g. Only heroin that converted into morphine in his brain and consequently converted him into the state of the highest bliss that he had ever felt. Happiness in every cell of his body, happiness outside it, everyfuckingwhere, it was nothing like what he had experienced before. But that, of course, was the beginning. A couple of weeks ago, maybe. Crush wouldn't know exactly - currently, he's a fucking mess, you see.
[indent]So, now you have the awkward explanation of how it all went to smithereens - we can finally go back (forward, actually) into real time. An unforgettable and literally stunning scent coming from the slowly breathing heavy yet skinnier man's body somehow didn't bother Dick very much. I mean, it's weird, because even though he's a Dick, he's more or less a hygienic one, and, well, Crush currently would be able to crush all perfume companies in the country by simply showing up on their doorstep. Thanks for that too, Dick, you are a really good man. Could have taken the cat and got the fuck away from here but you chose to stay. Sillycute. Did you actually expect he would answer?... No, seriously?... Because... well, in fact, he would. Just very slowly. Like, VERY slowly. And it wasn't an answer because it came a few minutes later. A mumbling sick voice coming somewhere from the inside. Not dead yet, not quite alive. It means, in a few more hours he will crave a new dose and god forbid Dick gets into his way to his preciousness.
[indent]- You... destroyed.. the B-black... Sun... Fucking.. d-destroyed it... E-explosure.. Now f-fuck off..
Oh you better do as he says. See, these little experiences leave dirty marks on you. LaVey's darkness is all over you, stinking from your nostrils where you inhale your own dose of bliss. Was a sister's cute tight vagina really worth it? Very well then, Crush has his own vagina, much looser, deeper and uglier. He prefers it this way. Who's to blame now and oh please tell me why the Cat has to pay for the human stupidity?

Отредактировано Caesar Crush (Вт, 18 Июн 2019 04:36)