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You Can't Love Someone You Pity

Submitted by Tom Sorrell at 2013-06-03 04:24:48 EDT
Rating: 2.0 on 7 ratings (9 reviews) (Review this item) (V)

Casey, 13, walks towards the front door of his junior high school. He looks up at the old brick building and shudders, knowing today will be a bad day. The young fool has no idea today will be his worst day - the one that will define him in front of God and his peers forever.

He crosses the threshold and descends a flight of stairs into the zoo. At least, that’s what it sounds like to everyone but Casey, who wears earphones with his music turned to 11 and bops along, completely clueless to the contents of today’s menu. He passes blue lockers lining the hallways and notices thousands of dents, fashioned by decades of abuse at the hands of semi-violent, angst-ridden children from the Midwest. The heartland. Iowa, maybe. Or Kansas. Anywhere, really. It’s all the same to Casey. And to us.

Casey, however, is not the same as us. He gets bullied. He gets pushed around. He’s little. He’s weak. He’s a born loser. Pathetic. And he’s a KID. A stupid, snot-nosed, moron of a creature. He’s 13 and he doesn’t know shit. He’s constantly reminded of all of this by his father Sal, a large, loud, overly-competitive man in his 40s who acts younger than Casey and hates the fact he has to share his wife with such an annoying little bastard. Sal hates Casey. In fact, he would be bullying him right this minute if it were his turn. But it’s not. Sal has all night to rant and rave and treat Casey like the piece of shit he is. Right now his peers have things under control.

As he nears his locker he notices people noticing him. “This is odd,” he thinks. “People never notice me. They must like my new shirt. Meghan is awesome.”

Both statements are true, Meghan is awesome. And so is Casey’s shirt. It’s a green Lacoste polo with a little red alligator on the front. Meghan gave it to him yesterday for his birthday. She’s 12 and the love of his life. The one he will compare every other woman to as long as he lives. She doesn’t see him this way. He’s her friend. Today’s events will make sure things stay always that way. He sees her and smiles, warmly. Fondly. Lovingly. Then he notices the look on her face. Worry. Grief. Pain. And something else ... fear.

Casey frowns and turns to his locker. WHAM! His neck explodes in fire and he dies. No, that’s just what it feels like, as if someone has just severed the connection from his spine to his brain. His forehead smashes into the locker in front of him and he sees stars, then nothing. A literal double-whammy. He should be dead. He’s not. His brain stops swishing around inside his skull and settles back into position. He tries to shake the cobwebs loose and turns to see his attacker. It’s his friend, Dylan, the biggest piece of shit he’s ever known. At least, that’s what Casey will call Dylan later, when he eviscerates him in fiction in a book about a delusional mind entitled, “I am a Sanitation Engineer, Not a Janitor.”

In this moment, however, Casey still calls Dylan a friend, though he’s not sure why and he thinks that’s about to change. Still, that doesn’t bother him as much as the fact that he can barely see anything. His vision is still blurry. WHAM!! A right hook catches Casey in the teeth, which is bad for Casey because he wears braces. Sharp, metal, painful braces that catch his cheek and tear a hole in it. Blood gushes out of his mouth. He reaches up and touches it, confused, and says something like “What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?”

It comes out a little less succinct, not that it matters. It could have been a sentence rivaling the grace of In Search of Lost Time by Proust, and the next punch still would have been thrown. WHAM!!! Another right hook to the same spot. The cut opens further. The blood flow increases. Casey’s knees get wobbly. Everything slows down. Blurry. He notices people gathered around. They’re loud, but they say nothing clearly other than “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Time seems to slow down and the noise of the crowd fades. He hears one voice, the voice of his father, loud above the din, saying the same thing over and over. “Don’t you dare get suspended, boy. I’ll make your life a living hell.” WHAM!!! Another punch from Dylan nearly breaks Casey’s nose. Casey staggers back and looks around, dazed, trying to figure out why his supposed friend would be punching him about the head and face in front of everyone they know and why those people would be urging him to fight. To brawl. To throw the fuck down and prove he’s a man.

“Fuck you simple motherfuckers,” Casey thinks, because he doesn’t care about their worthless opinions. They don’t matter. Only Meghan matters. And Dylan’s punches are nothing compared to the furious rage he would face were he to be suspended, which would surely happen if he threw a punch. WHAM! Another fist of fury hits him in the face. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Casey knows it could be worse. Dylan could be 40 and have 100 pounds on him, so he decides not to fight back. It doesn’t even matter.

WHAM! WHAM! Casey’s bored with Dylan’s assault and looks over at Meghan. Her eyes are moist and red. She looks at him, pleadingly. ”Do something!” she seems to say. “Do anything!”

Casey doesn’t even throw a punch. He thinks it’s the lesser of two evils, but no one else will ever know the truth. He’ll be labeled a coward until he dies. Meghan will forever see him as battered and bloody and ineffectual. A mouse. She will pity him, and you can’t love someone you pity. You can only pity them. But Casey doesn’t know this. All he knows is he gets to come to school tomorrow. His face may be bloody and his pride may be gone and his love may be lost, but he gets to come to school tomorrow.

And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative. At least to Casey. At least right now, as he settles into his desk for Homeroom announcements.



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Submitted by tim spitz at 2013-06-29 15:16:52 EDT (#)

Take it now.
Payback later!

Submitted by RoadSong at 2013-06-12 20:01:25 EDT (#)
Rating: 2


Submitted by monkeyswithguns at 2013-06-07 20:41:29 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

I can definitely relate to that shit. Though it wasn't so much the wish to come back to school as the fear of catching a worse ass-whipping for getting suspended, Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Submitted by VelvetElvis at 2013-06-04 02:44:07 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

This story is a great opening scene for a super hero movie:

....as he settles into his desk for Homeroom announcements...thinking, planning.

----

Then, during college, Casey invents microbots that inhabit his body/DNA, turning him into an Iron Man super computer without exterior armor, and he gets more pussy than 10,000 men could handle, besides being a billionaire.

The End

(Tom pitches my idea to Hollywood exec, and two years from now he has the #1 summer blockbuster and more pussy than I could handle.)

The Beginning

Submitted by Perk "Grownman Perkiness" man at 2013-06-04 00:04:27 EDT (#)

Oh, in my bottom reviews switch, Dylan with Casey. I just got it messed up in my head when I was writing you that long winded review.

Submitted by Perk "Grownman Perkiness" man at 2013-06-03 23:58:28 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

(Add on to previous comment, bud)


But the trick to this story was this... I felt bad for Dylan, but when he didn't fight back, when he wouldn't fight for his "love" or "respect" or "dignity" from a fake friend (this is dear to my heart because I had situations like this growing up,and I didn't get respect until I stopped playing nice and put motherfuckers heads in the dirt, or locker's so to speak starting Sophmore year of high school, people don't like people they don't "respect" either), I realized he was weak, and I guess you know he's going to keep taking abuse from his father... until he either kills himself, runs away, or shoots up the school and everyone, which is plausible now that he lost his "only friend"... (You should expand on Dylan's situation after the fight, the next week of the school like a part 2 or something), but I get what you're trying to say... if the kid did shoot up the school or his dad etc.. is he justified? I say, "No".. why? simple... if you can't fight back, or even try and fight back... you kind of deserve what is happening in a fucked up way... (I was a jock), no one likes to look after a kid or a person that can't protect themselves, those people usually when given power or psychos in real life, and a burden... as my mom told me one time...

Mom: "Perkman, you need to always pay your own way when you go out, buy your own drinks, bring stuff, take care of yourself, no one likes to deal with a burden...(as she pointed at my fat 330lb oldest brother, eating food, miserable, hateful, gluttonous, non educated (at the time, I helped get him back into school) ass...)

Society takes care of it's self... Good writing Tom... you're starting to get that "Hollywood" twinkle in your step. I told you, you're writing style is reminiscent of a book, or a story which is fine. You want to make it in Hollywood you have to study 1 single camera lens scripts, 3 lens camera scripts and learn how to write for scenes and dialogue... haha sorry for the long analyst... but someone said that you were writing a lot of "nothing" that doesn't matter. But just letting that person know, and all the doubters know that this had something profound to say.. and I dig it.

(FYI- The fact that I can analyse this and get all these theories on the writer, or pinpoint things that can be discussed means you're getting the spark. You're showing something, and getting your views across.. now just learn the Hollywood format for movies, T.V., films (by genre), etc... and your on your way. I was dead serious when I told you if I was able to "get on" I'd help. I will but give me at least 3 months haha (after I figure out if I got the big job, under the big exec))

Submitted by Perk "Grownman Perkiness" man at 2013-06-03 23:58:00 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

I liked this. I don't want to be a critic... so I won't be...(I'm a fellow writer). Keep on plugging away bud... you're starting to say something here in your writing, critiquing society, and I understand it.

The boy is already beaten down, his father hates him due to his on insecurity of probably being beaten, belittled, marginalized by his own father, he is a coward and beats his own "son" for a girl, which is the direct parallel that Dylan's find himself in, someone is beating him because of the "love" of a girl like his own father beats him. Though both these entities that have beaten him down should be comforting him, or helping him, or shielding him. Both the entities beat him because they don't respect him, he isn't worthy of love, and you're statement in this is asserting basically, "That it is fucked up that you must earn love, but no one truly loves or likes a burden, someone that won't stick up for themselves.... and why is this? at least in American society were taught to be self sufficient, strong, John Wayne.. so seeing someone taking a beating without fighting back you lose respect of your peers, and it is true.

If you don't fight back, or fight for something... you are worthless, America is all about people being "worth" something. The screwed up part is Dylan was in a catch-22, if he fought back he would probably have been beaten bad enough to go to the Emergency room by his weak, emotional wreck of a lackluster father, and aloof mother that allows the abuse... the humilation and beating from his friend Casey was better than the alternative...the problem is that after this beating he lost the one thing he cherished and loved... his best friend, only friend, and "true love" Meghan... Meghan probably cared about him too, and was on the fence if she could ever "love him" as her lover... but when he couldn't muster courage to fight back... to fight for his respect, or even there love to an extent.. she could never be with him, or love him. She pitied him.. and pity is one of the most condescending and fucked up emotion people can have. Because you don't help someone you pity, you feel bad for them... and if they cross you... you put them down like the pathetic dog they are... some call it social Darwinism...

Your story is... "Well isn't that just fucked up?" we'll it is... but never fight for someone who cannot fight or defend themselves... why you ask? simple....

"It's not the size of the dog, but the fight in the dog that wins".... there is reason scumbag people put down fighting dogs that lose, or lay down.. simple.. they did it once, they'll do it again, and when you need them.. you can't count on them.. the worst thing is to count on someone in a real life situation that cannot be "counted on"... it fucks you up, so as a safety percaution all the little trials, tribulations, and problems in life are there for a reason.


Submitted by grÜeMaster emeritus and uberlord supreme at 2013-06-03 05:37:58 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Submitted by Redskieslookfake at 2013-06-03 04:54:50 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Nice.

Submitted by redskieslookfake at 2013-06-03 04:54:50 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Nice.


This is the darkest day in the history of Springfield. If anybody
wants me I'll be in the shower.

-- Homer Simpson
Lemon of Troy