Work Text:
“So….Venom.”
Eddie.
“Your name…is. Venom.”
I do not like your tone.
“No, there’s no tone, it’s just…I dunno. A little bad-ass, you know?”
It is very bad ass.
“Right, that’s what I mean. It’s like what a thirteen year old boy would name himself if he could pick his own name, you know?”
I am not a thirteen year old boy.
“So…what, like…Momma Squid just popped you out of her…whatever, and was like - ‘I know! Venom! Doesn’t he look like a Venom, dear?’”
I am NOT A SQUID.
“Ow! Hey!”
Stop hitting yourself.
“Would you - ?!”
Stop hitting yourself.
“OKAY OKAY FINE. Venom is a totally normal, totally…cool, badass…name.”
Correct.
“I’m sure it’ll look super rad when you scribble it in Sharpie on your jeans. Jesus.”
I AM OLDER THAN YOU.
“GAh! Stop YELLING!”
Besides, they would be your jeans.
“Just - no YELLING in my head? Okay? I am RIGHT here. There is no reason to yell inside my head, like - ever.”
You are the one with legs. And the one who wears clothes. I am all the clothes I need.
“Whatever, hippie.”
Change the channel.
“NO. We talked about this.”
It is boring.
“If you bothered to learn the rules -
I KNOW THE -
“Hey. What did we just talk about?”
…
“Thank you.”
I know the rules. I know everything that is in your head. I don’t see the point of changing the location of a ball to gain an abstract victory.
“These guys make millions of dollars. That ain’t abstract.”
There isn’t even any blood.
“Stop pouting. Besides, sometimes there’s blood.”
Pfft. Hardly ever.
“Oh! Ohhhh oh oh oh!”
Yes, look at the little men run. Thrilling.
“TOUCHDOOOOOOWN!”
Put on Queer Eye. I want Queer Eye.
“Qu - what?! When the hell have you - ”
It is boring when you sleep. Sometimes I walk you to the living room and we watch Netflix.
“….okay. That’s creepy, and we’re putting a pin in that, but - the point is, no, you can NOT watch Queer Eye, because I told you, we’re watching the game today.”
You could learn from them Eddie. We need to step up our game if we want to win Anne back.
“Step up our-?! Man, you are not gonna let me enjoy this game even a little bit are you?”
You should tuck your shirt in. But only in the front.
“Jesus H. Christ.”
It is called a French Tuck.
“I don’t give a French Fuck.”
Heh. Fuck. Cursing is fun. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck.
“They don’t have cursing where you’re from?”
No. We do not curse, we attack. Humans have many strange ways to channel their aggression. Like…football.
“See, I can’t even see your face right now but I know you just made a face.”
Thirsty. More beer.
“You read my mind.”
We should call Anne.
“No.”
I’m calling her.
“Hey! Would you - stop! STOP! That’s my - arm - you are being -
Stop resisting.
“This is NOT what we agree - heyyyyyyyyy! Anne!”
Tuck in your shirt.
“It’s uh - no! No, nothing serious, everything’s fine, I was just…watching the game, well - TRYING to watch the game.”
Ask her about her career. Affirm her aspirations.
“Affirm her - what?! No, no sorry Anne, he’s just - chatty today.”
Hi Anne! Say hi. Hi to Anne. Hi.
“He’s very insistent that I say hello for him.”
NOT HELLO, “HI.” SAY HI, IT IS CASUAL.
“HI. He says ‘Hi.’ Very LOUDLY.”
Her career aspirations. Affirm them.
“So, how’s…work?”
Now ask her to mate with us.
“I GOTTA GO. Sorry, I - sorry. Bye.”
That went well. Soon she will be ours again.
“GAH! Just…ONE DAY. ONE fucking day I wanted to sit here and watch the game and have a beer like a normal…just a fucking…normal…”
…
“…”
You can unmute the television.
“What’s the point? You’re not gonna let me watch anyway.”
…
“…”
Unmute the television.
“…”
We will watch football.
“Thank you.”
…
“…”
Eat more Doritos.
“No.”
We want more Doritos.
“We’re gonna get fat.”
Don’t care.
“Yeeeeah me neither.”
Mmm. Good.
“Augh, could you…I just wanna lick my own fingers, ok?”
Sorry.
“It’s fine. Honestly? You know what? Go to town. What the fuck.”
Mm. Spicy Nacho.