The Parasite | Eminem

49

A.N. Almost done, thanks for being patient, I need this shit to go out with a bang.

"Who thought you could make something, anything that would last forever?" She questions, slamming her beer down on the counter and keeping her eyes burning into the gorgeous woman on the stage.

"Oh man, don't get like this. Not while we watchin' a stripper." I grumble, slipping a few ones out from my wad of cash.

"We're all just specks of dust. Nothing you do matters. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing." Sighing, she runs her finger along the glass of her beer bottle, creating a trail that disrupts the wet condensation.

"Hey sweetheart, what's your name?" Dre asks, grin plastered on his face as he slips a dollar in her lacy garter.

"Crystal." She grins, arching her back and leaning on her palms rested behind her.
She crosses her legs before laying back down on the counter, running her hands along her body sensually.

"Crystal, mind if I draw you?" I hear Marlow ask, whipping out a small notebook and pen from her cargo pant pocket.
Her voice was low and barely audible and Crystal evidently didn't hear her, continuing to dance like regular schedule programming.

"Where'd you get that?" I ask, feeling hopelessly dull and heavy.
My body is like lead, I don't think I could move if you asked me to.
My head feels fuzzy and numb.
That much is good.
I'll assume to painkiller I took endless life times ago must have worked.

"Target, obviously." Marlow scoffs, proceeding to sketch away carefully.
Her eyes dart from her notebook to the stripper endlessly.
I follow them endlessly.
I'm getting dizzy.
I feel listless and stupid.
We shouldn't be here right now.
I should be back at home.
I should have just gone home that night.
Now I'm somewhere in Vegas, at a strip club with my girlfriend and my boss slash best friend.
Try to experience something more weird, I know, hard.

"Ants work so hard, carrying shit. Carrying shit that's anatomically too heavy for them. Then there's bees with their wings that are too small for their bodies apparently. How can they fly? Cause fuck you. That's how." Marlow begins to rant again and I can feel the headache materializing.
"Nothing those ants do... nothing we do... none of it means anything." she concludes, sketching along hastily with her ballpoint pen.
Sketching in ink?
Risky.
Marlow doesn't care about perfection.
Marlow only wants chaos.
She only wants to destroy.

I say all this with positive connotation somehow.

"Can you shut her up? She's depressin' me and we supposed to be havin' fun" Dre grumbles before taking a sip from his cognac.
The caramel colored liquor sloshes around in the thick glass when he slams it down on the table, making my head throb subtly.
The music drowns everything else out.

"Seeking what is true is not seeking what's desirable." Marlow argues, sending Dre an agitated look before going back to her sketching.

"I ain't tryin' to seek nothing but pussy right now." Dre spits, gripping his jaw and cocking his head at Crystal.
Trying to get a better look at her thong covered pussy as she stands up properly and runs her hands up her legs.
I'm too tired to be aroused.
I just want to actually go to bed.
Not black out and wake up somewhere new.
I just want my bed.
Not that I can even fucking sleep anyways.

"Crystal. You should come with us." Marlow suddenly states, speaking at an audible volume and leaning up at her.
She places her note pad down on the counter.
Open down the middle, There's a hasty sketch of Crystal and some writing.
I don't even attempt to write what's scrawled in Marlow's lanky and aggressive handwriting.
Crystal proceeds to giggle lightly, brushing Marlow off like the seasoned stripper she is.