The Parasite | Eminem

27

A.N. Ooooo baby, this chapter y'all

There's always that moment where your parents realize that you're not something they predicted.
That moment where they realize they've raised something that falls far short from what they were hoping for.
And in some cases, that moment is when they realize they've conceived a monster.

I remember... there was this one really rich kid at my school, back in seventh grade.
She bragged about her parents living in Rochester Hills.
Why she attended my broke school, I don't know.
But man, she had the receipts.
She showed up every day in what her parents deemed worthy of their little 'ball of light'.
Prada shoes she'd grow out of in a month, small Gucci backpack even.
It all really got on my nerves.

Look, I didn't care that she was rich, I was never a generally jealous child.
I didn't and still don't desire for things I don't have.

What pissed me off about this little brat, this little designer wearing bitch, was that she was always treating everyone around her like second class citizens.
Every other seventh grader was a play thing to her.
So, my twelve year old self, the one that would stay up late reading books about the most horrendous moments of human history, yeah, I wasn't having it.

I got real clever.
I knew her stupid enflamed ego couldn't fathom being bested by anyone.
So what did I do?
I challenged her to a spice tolerance challenge.
I gave her a ghost pepper and I ate a regular pepper that paraded around as a ghost pepper.
I wasn't stupid, I wasn't gonna eat that goddamn thing but I wasn't gonna make it obvious I was cheating.
I put the regular pepper in a dehydrator to make it look all shriveled, equally as dangerous looking.

Her face got all red, she started coughing like crazy.
I could tell she was trying so hard to hold back, all the kids around her watching in a sick enjoyment.
This was retribution for all these young broke kids who just wanted to be left alone.
To them, I was doing God's work.

Don't get me wrong, the regular chili pepper was spicy, but it was just enough.
I let out a few coughs myself, fanning my tongue in a great show of theatrics.

To wrap up the story, she ended up in the hospital.
She was fine in the end, but she talked funny for several months after.
Her mouth and throat were torn to shreds.

So yeah, when my parents found out later that day, it was clear, in their eyes.
I had done something so utterly repulsive.
My mother had no idea what to say.
She didn't say she was disappointed... no.
She remained quiet for several minutes before staring me directly in the eyes.
"You're mind disgusts me" venomous words I never forgot.
Perhaps she already knew that somewhere in the corners of my mind, a monster was developing.
All the terrifying information I was so eager to tell her about.
I told her all about the technology developed against the Soviet Union.
I told her all about every war and why it happened.
I told her about voyeurism.
I told her how to make napalm.
I told her how to make chloroform.
I told her how cocaine dealers cut their supply with dental anesthetic to convince people it was pure.
I told her about every obscure thing I read about.

To her, this was a long time coming, and this wouldn't be the worst thing I'd come to do.
Paul was less dramatic.
He didn't think it was that bad.
He cursed my mother.
"She's only twelve! It was a prank taken too far! Don't go saying horrible shit like that" he shouted, defending me.
Maybe this is why I got as bad as I did.
In the end, my dad called the shots.
He didn't think I'd be a genuinely twisted individual.

"Twelve is old enough to have already developed a moral conscious." My mother stated.
She got up from the dinner table abruptly, and from that moment on, I don't know if my mother actually loved me or not.
She certainly saw me in a completely new lens.
I was now her greatest shame.