Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

What's Up? (Jerome; Merome-ish)

Very loosely based on the song "What's Up" by 4 Non-Blondes. You'll know it when you hear it.

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           I shut down the computer and wobble my sore ass cramped legs over to the futon and flop down. Like a goddamn feesh-feesh-feesh. I'm a goddamn Magikarp gaspin' for air. It's too much all the time and I'm dyin' inside. Wake me the fuck up inside. Is the money really worth all this shit? 'Cause I'm starting to think it's not. My fuckin' head hurts all the time from the screens and the stress and the no-days-off-for-you,-Jerome-ya-dumbass. And how much longer am I realistically gonna be able to keep this up? I'm not even thirty yet and my blood pressure's higher than my dad's. I'm gonna be strokin' out over here, and not the good kinda stroke.

I need some motherfuckin' caffeine. That'll make my brain settle its ass down.

I grab my sunglasses off the hat on the table and try to haul my ass up but it feels like I might need a tow truck and a UHaul to do it. I'm so tired it's like I'm drunk. No wonder I was laughin' at Ben's lame ass jokes - 'cause he ain't funny. Not one bit. The crust inside my nose's funnier than him. Speakin' of which... I give it a good ol' rub but I don't get anything out of it. No bats in the cave today. Another editing disaster averted. I'm not Preston - I wouldn't keep that shit on facecam.

Up we go! Caffeine time! My body groans like an old man's but it creaks and cracks and gripes its way across the house and I stare longingly at the fridge. Good times.

Twenty-five years and my life is still

Trying to get up that great big hill

Of hope for a destination.

But I made it, didn't I? And he said I couldn't do it! And six months from now I'm gonna have more subs than him and I already make twice what he makes. 'Sidekick' my ass. Lazy little sneery fucker. He can go fuck his fuckin' hurricanes and shit. Told him we shoulda gone to Cali way back in 2014. Total waste of time and money. First house had more water damage than Lachlan's face after that security guard dug his burrito back outta his carry on bag and threw it in the trash. But no one listens to dumbass Jerome. What's he know, anyways? If he knew a single goddamn thing he wouldn't still be taggin' along behind Mitch and smellin' his ass. But guess what, motherfucker? This dumbass's learned his lesson and now... now this's all mine.

I open the glass patio doors and step outside on my brand new stucco'd deck and take a deep breath and plop my ass down in front of the fancy ass tiled pool with the yellow and supposedly red wavy sun face down at the bottom and I sip my Monster and I feel like Kermit the Goddamn Frog laughin' and lookin' back at the big giant mess all around me. Mitch and Adam and Poofless and Little Lachers, all goin' up in flames. But that's none o' my business. Only ones draggin' their asses outta the Tubepocalpyse're the Sidemen and that's just 'cause they're so goddamn batshit crazy people can't help but stare.

Is it still considered a marathon if it's on autoplay and you physically can't pull your eyes away?

I realized quickly

When I knew I should

That the world was made up

Of this brotherhood

Of man, for whatever that means.

But Mitch can play his stupid goddamn games like he always does. I hate that I still love his ass even after all the shit he's drug me through time and time again. He'll wise up in a couple months and pretty soon he'll be payin' me rent.