Work Text:
Threnody For A Nerd
"What a shitload of fuck!" the gruffy voice of a furious, jobless, lanky, sickly-pale basement dweller snapped at the faintly flickering screen of an analogue television. An irritating 8-bit chiptune threw knives from the speakers of the television into his ears. The cellar occupant white-knuckled the controller of a Nintendo 64, the C-stick clicking as it hit the borders holding the stick in place. A low-polygonal representation of DC's Superman jittered about the screen. The nerd, by his lonesome, groaned and growled as he fought with the game to accomplish the basic task of moving. The video game wasn't interested in co-operating. The nerd turned to a camera standing to his left.
"This game isn't just bad—it's fucking horrible! I'm not even joking around, this game is FUCKING HORSE SHIT!" he snapped. "What the fuck were they fuckin' thinking!? How do you fuck up the simple task of moving in a straight line this fucking bad!?" he huffed. "Enough of this shit..." He threw the N64 controller to the ground, stomping to the console across the room and ripping the cartridge from the machine. "I might as well be holding a piece of shit in my hand right now!" he remarked. He whipped the plastic cartridge across the room. It crashed against the wall, shattering and casting bits of plastic and internal components across the room.
As he turned back to the camera, he came to find it worn and decayed. The case was coming apart, held together by duct tape.
"Shit the fuck?" he thought aloud. He stepped up to the camera, inspecting it. Covered in dust, the lens and screen were cracked. Pressing the power button, nothing happened. "Oh, what a shitload of fuck... What the fuck happened to the fuckin' camera!?" As he fiddled with the camera, a tall man in a beige coat and white, button-up dress shirt stepped into the room. His head was composed of an impressively large ball of bull manure.
"Bullshit Man...?" the Nerd muttered.
"Y'know what's buuuuuuuuuullshit?" he asked, flies swarming his fecal head. The Nerd stared confusedly. "Time."
"What?" the Nerd inquired. The somber strumming of a guitar echoed from behind him. Whipping around, a man in a leather jacket with an electric guitar stood in his basement. The room was utterly dilapidated: Dust covered every inch of the room, several shelves had collapsed. The window on the far end of the room had shattered, dirt from the surface piling through the empty frame.
"We're not going back to the past, anymore, Nerd," Guitar Guy whispered to the tune of his guitar.
"What the fuck's going on!?"
"We'd all rather have a buffalo take a diarrhea dump in our ears, Nerd," Guitar Guy began. "But it's time to move on... The shitty games don't suck ass... not anymore. It's over."
"You gotta be pulling my balls... I've gone completely insane!"
"Yeah, you have. Not in the way you think, though," Guitar Guy replied. The Nerd ignored him, lumbering back to his couch and grabbing the Nintendo 64 controller. Glancing at his hands, he came to find them wrinkled, the hair on his arms now disheveled and gray. His gaze quickly met the television. The screen was cracked, the analogue antennae broken and bent. In the reflection, his eyes met his own. His face was worn, skin blemished and sagging, eyes bloodshot and desaturated.
"Wh-... What..." The words wobbled from his mouth, his voice weak and quivering. Guitar Guy sat on the couch beside him.
"Time to go, Nerd." The Nerd stared. His hands trembled. He didn't understand.
"What are you... What..." he stammered. He shot a glare at Guitar Guy, only to find an old, mummified corpse in a decayed leather coat. The Nerd's eyes turned back to the television. He couldn't look away until he slid off the couch. Falling to his knees, he flopped onto the floor and curled into a ball. "ASS! BITCH! FUCK! FART! CUNT! SHIT! WHAT A SHITLOAD OF FUCKING BULLSHIT! THIS TIME SHIT BLAZES MY FUCKING BALLS!!!"
The Nerd screamed as he rotted away. Contempt was all he could feel. Hatred. How could this happen!? He wondered.
He had been abandoned. Everyone else was gone. Shit Pickle had spoiled and molded. Guitar Guy expired, decaying to dust. Bullshit Man melted like diarrhea in the hot sun. Spider Man suffered severe alcohol withdraw and underwent liver failure. Bugs Bunny died of dysentery.
The Nerd was the only one left. Not for long, however. Soon, there would be nobody.
Though he would rather suck diarrhea shit from an asshole fountain, he had no choice but to acknowledge the endless forward march of time. No choice but to acknowledge the inevitability of his approaching death.
There would be no going back to the past.
Not anymore.
Game over, ya fuck.