Work Text:
The sun is setting outside. He's in his basement. He doesn't really need any other information. All in all, it's a fairly normal weekend for the Angry Video Game Nerd.
This is what he did, right? Just...sit at home, alone, and press buttons all day. Occasionally say a few words to the camera and the internet and live a humble life. That sounded...fine.
The Nerd didn't really keep up with the stream of consciousness that spilled from his mouth. Whatever he was saying was probably right; he always was rather effortless in his work in a way that probably made at least one person somewhat proud or at least jealous. Talk is talk, but it could be difficult to be so consistently clever—
Somewhere in the house, the phone was ringing.
...
What was he talking about? The Nerd stared at the controller in his hands, near startled by his own silence. Any attempt to speak, even just to let the words fall out, failed him, as if his jaws had been sealed shut.
He continues to fumble around on the controller, squinting through his glasses at the screen. He was supposed to be good at these platforming games, right? They were just running and jumping around, it's as simple as you could get. He was supposed to be good at everything; good at video games, good at being alone.
His head felt like it was icing over, for the fiftieth fucking time today. Did he forget his medication? No, no, he didn't need—
Somewhere in the room, the phone was ringing.
He stared at it, eyes wide and glassy,
...
until it stopped. What a strange object to have in his basement. It's not like he ever needed to call anyone; as far as the Nerd knew, he was quite antisocial (mostly due to his attitude), and never wanted to spend much time talking to his family. It wasn't like he knew any friends—
The phone was ringing.
His eye twitched.
"Augh." He pressed his hands against the sides of his head. The noise didn't get any quieter.
Somewhere in his head, the phone was ringing.
He stared at the phone, taking on the space on the couch next to him. What a strange color, he would've said to himself. Different words forced themselves through his lips ("Why the fuck is it pink? That's stupid. That's stupid," on and on like a broken record, much more in character). The ringing only got louder, absorbing his thoughts into the noise.
You should pick up the phone.
You really, really should pick up the phone.
A hand twitched off his head, making a shaky, desperate gambit for the gaudy pink plastic. Why was he so afraid? He'd never seen this before. He had no reason to be afraid of plastic. That would be so embarrassing, and he wasn't the embarrassing one. Never the embarrassing one. He didn't want to be embarrassing.
His hand inched ever closer, until a shout ripped itself from his lungs. "PLEASE, DON'T MAKE ME PICK IT UP!"
He stared at his own outstretched hand, moving the other to gently hold his throat (wasn't he the loud one? why did it hurt?)
"Please, just make it stop." Tears ran down his face in fat, pathetic blobs. What was he crying about? "Please, please I just want it to be over. I don't want to be here anymore."
The plastic felt cheap in his hands, as if he could crush it with his full strength, but despite the death grip he had on it it never cracked. Never bent. Never faltered.
What am I doing? Died on his tongue, unsaid.
He lifted the phone up to his ear.
I'm scared.
The world propelled itself into darkness.
No, that wouldn't be right to say, he realized, as he took a tumble. It was more like the world (including the couch) was gone, save for him, who existed in perfect clarity. Out of instinct, he looked up from his place on the ground.
He kept staring up.
He was unable to look away.
"Can you stop screaming?" Said the corpse above him, suspended in midair, staring down at him. Into him, eyes clouded and dripping with blood. Long, matted black hair framed its almost-grey face almost delicately. It looked as if it was laying off the edge of a bed; arms limp and dangling while it kicked its legs behind.
"What?" The Nerd's arms shook, unable to push him back up to his feet, stuck holding his back up as he stared above. This wasn't supposed to happen to him. "I—What?"
"Oh, look at yourself." Its tone was disgusted. "You should be able to tell this isn't right. For God's sake, you never needed glasses, and even if you couldn't, you shouldn't anymore."
...
"For the love of—shit, gah, whatever. If there's anything I've learned here, its that you're too passive." Its arms went rigid, fingers twitching, as it rolled its eyes. "Here, I'll do it for you. Like I have to do everything."
The wind was knocked out of him as his back it the ground, arms suddenly giving way. They moved to his face as if on hinged, taking the sides of his glasses in delicate fingertips. He opened his eyes and watched the corpse above him mirror his movements.
Oh.
No, no, no. He was mirroring its movements.
"I want us to come to an understanding. That's all." It had the ghost of a smile on its face, as it sat the Nerd's glasses down next to him. "But we aren't going to get anywhere with you like this. Why don't you wake up?"
"Because I don't want to." The reply came automatically. He felt out of breath. "There has to be an easier way. I don't want to wake up ever again."
"But you know this isn't right. For all the similarities you share, for all the times you may have swapped places as children for your stupid pranks on your parents, you know you're not your brother."
Something itched, under his skin. "I want to be." He begged. "I want to be someone else. I need to be something else."
"Why him?" It sounded unimpressed.
"He's the only real person I know. Nothing bad ever happens to him, except for me. I can't tell if anything else every happening to me is, I just—It—I need to be—" His hand danced a solemn finger over the discarded glasses. "I need to stop being me."
It stared at him for a moment, seemingly stunned into silence. It stopped moving (he stopped moving), it stopped breathing (he stopped breathing).
It started laughing.
Barking, even! Laughing so hard that it began to weep; disgusting, discolored tears landing on his face and running down the horrified creases in it. The longer it went on, the smaller he felt, the itchier his skin became.
"Stop laughing at me."
The corpse paid him no mind.
"Stop—Please, just—"
His hands twitched, out of his control.
Out of his control.
Out of his control.
Out, out, out, out—
"Stop it, just fucking stop it!!"
Something cracked
For a moment, everything went dark.
Wake up.
He opened his eyes, slowly. It was red. Blurry.
Wake up. It won't be the first time you've done it.
He tore his way out of the shell with terrible, crunching fanfare. Sat delicately in the middle of an open ribcage, soaked in blood from head to toe. It stuck his clothes to his body, stuck his skin to his musculature and his musculature to his bones. He was stuck together, no matter how he wished to will himself apart.
"There you are," said the corpse above him, hands together, as if to pray.
Hands together, as if shackled, he stared upwards on his knees. "Here I am."
EXCERPT I
The CORPSE stands in front of BOARD JAMES
CORPSE: Now that your little tantrum is over, was it worth it?
BOARD JAMES: I don't know.
CORPSE: I'm not just talking about your little identity theft stint. I mean all of it. All of this...wasted time.
BOARD JAMES: I don't remember.
The CORPSE grimaces.
CORPSE: I can never tell what you're thinking anymore.
BOARD JAMES: Me neither.
Laugh track. End scene.
EXCERPT II
The CORPSE lies on the ground, staring up at BOARD JAMES. The ground is a shallow pool of blood. The CORPSE's arms are stretched upward.
CORPSE: I've only done good for you. Why do you hate me?
BOARD JAMES: I don't know what you're talking about.
CORPSE: You keep spending times with those—things! They're barely even people anymore, with what you're doing to them. Breaking your toys.
BOARD JAMES: I don't know what you're talking about.
CORPSE: It shouldn't have mattered if they died. You're such an indecisive little crybaby!
BOARD JAMES: I don't know what you're talking about.
CORPSE: You wanted them gone, and then whined and whined and whined when they disappeared. Even though you got what you wanted! What we wanted!
BOARD JAMES: I don't know what you're talking about.
CORPSE: Control.
BOARD JAMES: I
BOARD JAMES falls into the pool, sinking like a stone. Laugh track. Scene ends.
EXCERPT III
The CORPSE sits in an electric chair. BOARD JAMES sits across from him, perched upon a pile of meat.
CORPSE: All you've ever wanted in your life is control. That's never changed.
(Silence).
BOARD JAMES: You can't blame me for that.
CORPSE: I won't.
BOARD JAMES: I just wanted things to go right, I just—
CORPSE: I know.
BOARD JAMES: I don't! I don't understand.
CORPSE: Would you like to?
BOARD JAMES: I'm not sure.
CORPSE: I think we're finally starting to understand each other.
Laugh track. BOARD JAMES covers his ears. There is a bright flash of electricity. Scene ends.
EXCERPT IV
The CORPSE and BOARD JAMES sit on their knees, eyes closed, hands folded, heads bowed. They face one another.
CORPSE: This whole time, you've been stuck wondering what is and isn't real. Spiraling out of control. A house with hallways that never end, playing cards that insult you, dreams of a life you've never had interspersed with nightmares of a death you shouldn't have received.
BOARD JAMES: Your life?
CORPSE: It's your life, too, in a sense.
BOARD JAMES: Am I dead?
CORPSE: You're the one who killed himself. Tell me.
BOARD JAMES: I.
BOARD JAMES opens his eyes.
BOARD JAMES: Oh. Oh, god.
BOARD JAMES: Was I already...?
Laugh track. The CORPSE laughs. End scene.
EXCERPT V
BOARD JAMES and the CORPSE are standing, facing each other. It seems they're in an altercation.
BOARD JAMES: What was it all for? This...entire thing, this whole fucked up situation.
CORPSE: Tell me. You're the one that keeps it going.
BOARD JAMES: I want it to stop!
CORPSE: No you don't. You want to control it. You don't want things to stop entirely, you just want them to stop happening to you. You just don't know how, yet.
BOARD JAMES: ...
CORPSE: Would you like me to tell you?
BOARD JAMES: I don't know.
Laugh track.
CORPSE: Yes, you do.
BOARD JAMES: ...Please.
CORPSE: Please, what?
BOARD JAMES: Tell me.
Laugh track. The CORPSE laughs, BOARD JAMES screams.
Scene ends.
EXCERPT VI
BOARD JAMES sits perched on a pile of meat, in front of the unmoving corpse of the HANGMAN.
BOARD JAMES: All of it. All of it was me?
HANGMAN: Every bit that you lived. Everything you didn't pull in, and even then, you put them there.
BOARD JAMES: So I did do it. I killed Mike and Bootsy.
HANGMAN: In a sense, maybe, but not really.
The crowd murmurs.
HANGMAN: Do you understand?
BOARD JAMES: I...
HANGMAN: ...
The crowd murmurs louder.
BOARD JAMES: I think I do.
HANGMAN: Would it matter, even if you did do it?
BOARD JAMES: I'd like to think so.
HANGMAN: Think all you'd like, but you know otherwise.
BOARD JAMES: Everything happens for a reason.
And there's still a reason.
The
The reason I'm here.
HANGMAN:
BOARD JAMES: You're right.
HANGMAN:
BOARD JAMES: Everything that's gone wrong, it's all because of them!
BOARD JAMES: It's always, always been because of them!
HANGMAN:
BOARD JAMES: I understand.
BOARD JAMES laughs, before he shatters into pieces. The corpse of the HANGMAN lays dead.
The audience applauds.
Scene ends.
Board James jolted awake, whacking his head on the shallow roof of his attic. Why the hell was he sleeping in here? All the dust up here was terrible for him. He rubbed his head, willing through the pain; he had some very important setup to do.
It's only fair to pay back your friends, when they've done so, so,
Lightning cracked against the ground outside.
so, so much for you.
Laugh track.
Scene ends.