Bad Boy

“I miss it”.

“Aw shit… what now?”

“Poppin Molly. That stuff makes me feel amazing. Colors are more vivid. Bass is more fantastic. Conversations are brighter. If I could just snort some Molly every now and again we could have such a great time.”

“Every now and again? Do you even realize what you’re saying? Forget it. Im not having this conversation again.”

“Oh just admit it. You miss it too.

Miss what? We’re not talking about MDMA anymore are we?”

“Remember that time you drove away with a thousand dollars worth of company property? Loaded that shit up like it was no big deal in broad daylight. Then you drove like a bat out of hell for a thousand miles. Haha… Had to take the wheel from your bro cause he couldn’t handle his shit on all that hallucinogenic crap you three were smoking.”

“Dude, you could have lost your job for that little stunt. It wasn’t worth it.”

“Ya, but we made a great memory. Speaking of memories, you remember the time you secretly dosed your buddies with bath salts and convinced them all to go to the strip club? You got two hundred bucks in ones and really fucked up that strippers routine by making it rain on her ho ass. Damn, everyone had a blast that night.”

“You don’t even know what that shit was! You could have given someone a heart attack! Not to mention… What a terrifically retarded waste of money.”

“Oh chill out. Everyone was fine. And money was easy to come by back then. Now, I know you miss that part. A hundred and forty feet in the air above a frozen tundra, getting the best workout of your life… Toxic chemicals and radioactivity… Making ten thousand pound hunks of iron fly wherever you pointed. Grabbing a fire extinguisher and waging war against the blaze with your brothers in arms, knowing you could all blow up at any second. Taking the controls of that evil machine and making it your bitch… You miss the fuckin danger! Admit it.”

“Ok… Ya. I do miss that. But you know, statistically speaking what we’re doing right now isn’t that much further down the list in terms of danger.”

“But wheres the glory!? Theres no risk anymore. Thats what I live for. The possibility of getting busted. We used to have so much fun. Calling up 100 dollar hookers on backpages.com, driving around with your buddies hammered and shooting up road signs. Smuggling cocaine out of California…”

“You never even took that job!”

“Yes, but I appreciated the offer. Nowadays you’d never get an offer like that. All you fuckin do is work, read, try and eat right, lift weights, play guitar, and write dumb shit on your stupid little blog.”

“Hey! We’re trying to restore virtue to this society! There was a time when this culture wasn’t so completely backwards. People had morals. Thats what me and the other guys are trying to restore. One mind at a time. We’re trying to save other men from our fate.”

“Blah, blah, blah, virtue… Blah, blah, blah, blah, Morality. You sound like an alter boy. What happened to you man? You used to be a bad boy. And not this PUA-smoke-and-mirrors-balogna-bad-boy bullshit that you hear about online… A real bad boy. Sluts used to THROW themselves at you.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake… Is that what this is all about? Your image?”

“Face it homie. Right now, all you are is b-”

“Shut your fucking mouth. Don’t you dare say it.”

“… BORING!

“Alright jackass. Thats it. You’ve made your point and now its time to shut up and listen. The reason Im constantly droning on about morality is because you have a severe deficit of it. All those things you mentioned have one key characteristic in common. You were hurting someone. Now I’m not the Dali Lama, but I’m pretty sure thats the basis of morality. If it hurts someone, its not a wise thing to be doing.”

“Come on now, most of the time I was just hurting myself.”

“Exactly! Its no wonder you treated other people like crap when you couldn’t even respect yourself. Face it dude. You had a death wish. You probably drove off the road at least a dozen times while blackout drunk. You used to call black people niggers to their face, not out of racism, but because you wanted to pick a fight. Don’t even get me started on that pistol… You were there. I don’t need to remind you what almost happened. You would drop acid every chance you got.”

“Harmless fun.”

“No. It absolutely is not. Don’t you realize that every time you mess with that shit you go just a little bit crazier?”

“Im not crazy!”

“No, you’re not. But do you even realize what you’re doing right now? You’re having a diametrically opposed debate with yourself. Most people frown on that.”

“They all do it too. They just won’t admit it.”

“Stop changing the subject. You wanna talk about memories? Ok fine. Remember the time you stayed up all night smoking crack with that weird guy with strippers passed out all over your house? When you finally turned in at seven in the morning do you remember what you felt like?”

“… Like… The biggest piece of shit on planet earth…”

“Do you know why? Something was wrong. You weren’t living the life of a virtuous man. You were living the life of a sucker fish. Thats what your subconscious was screaming at you that day. But did you listen?”

“…”

“Lets take another trip down memory lane shall we? Ill paint a little picture since you’re so fond of it. Trailer park. Mattress on floor. You in brand new clothes but for some reason deciding you didn’t feel like showering even though you smelled like a carcass left in the sun. Teeth rotting out of your head from all the stimulants, and weed, and cigarettes. There you sat, calling every single person in your phone. Nobody answered. At that moment you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore. They weren’t not picking up because they were working, or their family was in town, or they were studying… They weren’t answering because they knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you were a b-”

“No! Stop!”

“… BASKETCASE!

“…”

“Look… Hey man, Im sorry… But you needed to hear it. Besides. Its not all bad. What about lifting weights and looking in the mirror to see a markedly sexier version of yourself? Thats pretty “bad boy” ain’t it? How about speaking intelligently on topics you had no idea existed a year ago? Looking all smart and shit… How about being able to see behind the curtain when attracting females? Knowing all the tricks to get that smokin’ hottie into your bed.”

‘Haha… Ya… I guess…”

“And then we fuck her brains out! We give her the dick until she can’t even moan anymore! Until she can’t even move and her hands and feet go numb from the mind blowing orgasms we give her! Ain’t that “bad boy”?”

“Hell ya!”

“Just you wait dude. Ive got plans for the both of us. First, motorcycle. Then, travel. Then DJ. You’re a completely free agent now. You can go anywhere and do anything you want. The world is your oyster now. You don’t need booze and chemicals to enjoy it anymore. You’re still a bad boy.”

“Ya… I guess you’re right…”

“I know I am. Now c’mon. Lets go eat a cookie. Right now I really don’t care how bad for me it is… I guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

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3 thoughts on “Bad Boy

  1. Pingback: Bad Boy | Manosphere.com

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