The Parasite | Eminem

28

I grab a barbecue chip out from the bottom of the bag.
There's essentially only crumbs left, but I'll eat every goddamn bit of it.
I don't waste.

"Pass me some?" Marshall asks sheepishly, pressing his beer down on the sidewalk.

We're currently sitting outside a convenience store.
I pass him the bag, full of chips turned to crushed ashes.

"Well... I learned somethin' new about you tonight..." he grumbles before tossing the chip bag back, letting the crumbs tumble into his mouth.

I remain silent, staring at the cars pulling in and out of the gas station.
There's nothing I can respond with.
"I don' get why you ain't tell me earlier" he mumbles, crumpling up the bag and placing it down next to his beer.

"I needed to know I could trust you." I simply utter, slipping the half finished cigarette in between my teeth.

"So... like- you do that shit as a job?" He asks awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head.
He keeps his eyes on mine, eyebrows knit together in... maybe sadness.
He seems disheartened.

"Well, it's kind of... well- yeah. I make money off of it. Lots... but I don't do it for the money. I don't need it."
Maybe it's a strange sense of justice.
Maybe it's the hope that I can do enough good deeds and then it will absolve some of the really bad.
You know, the shit done out of spite.

"Then why?" he scotches over closer.
He rests his head on my shoulder, shocking me momentarily.
It's a strange reassurance.
It tells me that everything is ok... everything between us at least.

"Cause... I guess it's all done in good intentions... and that makes me feel... less shitty" I mumble, feeling suddenly empty and hollow.
Inhaling the addictive smoke, subtle ecstasy hits me for a moment.
It's that feeling of comfort that I've grown to associate with the small piece of burning death in between my lips.

"The more I get to really know you... your methods are really extreme... but, you do shit for all the right reasons, an' I can't be mad at that." He tells me, lifting his head so he can look me in the eyes.
His eyes have an honesty to them.
His hand comes to my cheek, tilting my face closer to his.
His fingers slip around my cigarette, pulling it from my loose lips.
He presses his hesitant lips to mine, sliding his tongue inside my mouth.
I grab his face forcefully, pushing further, wrapping my tongue around his.
He lets out a groan as he runs his tongue against mine.

I've never felt more human than I do in this moment.
For once, someone has looked at me and decided that it wasn't deserving of a reaction full of hatred.
For once, I don't feel completely alienated.
Because, in reality, I'm not anything horrible or new.
I just do what everyone thinks of doing.

He pulls his lips off mine slowly, eyes fluttering open slowly until his face suddenly lapses into one of pure excitement.
"Wanna make some prank calls?" He offers up the idea.
Some good, pure fun- shit I'm absolutely up for.
Man, both me and Marshall are so childish.

"Absolutely" I grin, watching him hop up quickly.
He grabs his beer and the crumpled chip bag.

"Aight, lets blow this joint" he announces as I stand up.
He tosses out the empty beer bottle and chip bag as I take my heel to the finished cigarette.
We head over to his car, getting in quickly.
"First prank calls in my new house" he chuckles, turning the key in the ignition.
Right, Marshall moved into his new place... his new mansion actually.
It's fucking huge and horrible un-furnished.
It's barren currently.
"Oh, by the way, I can get pretty nasty, an' I don' do shit for the greater good." He thinks he feels the need to warn me.