The Simpsons: Bart

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***

- Don't you have a head on your shoulders?! - Holding the baggie in his tightly clenched fists, Coach Engle shouted.

- I didn't... It's not what you think it is... It's... - In addition to my tongue starting to slur, my eyes darted from side to side. I'd never been so ashamed in my life, and frankly, I'd rather be caught by the police and go to the bunkhouse than raise my head and face my former coach.

- Bart, don't you realise the danger of this?! - but Coach Engle himself lifted my head up by force.

- I do. It's really not what you think. I've only got a month's work to do.

- Owe who? Bart, did you borrow money from the dealer?!

- No, I just--

Finally, after being caught by the trainer, I realised I had no choice but to explain everything in detail. So I told him how I got into this mess...

The more I talked, the funnier I thought it was. I guess there's only one such fool who would fall for such a frontal provocation.

* Punch *

Coach wasn't amused, however. His face grew angrier and angrier until it reached a state where the anger descended to fists.

- What are you doing, Coach? - one of which flew right into my face.

- I'm what? What are you doing, Bart?! - literally roared at me like a beast. Because of his rather large size, it really got scary. - What are you doing?! Where's your uniform?! Where'd you get that belly?! Do you realise that with a criminal record, you'll have no chance in sports?!

Up until the last question, I could only accept Coach Engle's claims as truth, because they were. However, when it came to returning to wrestling....

- I've got nothing to go on without a criminal record. - for the first time all day, I had the strength to face a coach with no less of a temperament. - My career is over! All because I fucked up as a boyfriend! What the fuck do I need a career like that for?!

- B-Bart, calm down-

- You know it was all a load of bollocks, don't you?! Well, here's a news flash. People love to double, if not triple, the bullshit.

- Bart, you have family and friends, po-

- Fucking funny! Ha-ha-ha-ha! - As if trying to hold back more screaming or tears, I did laugh. Though sincerely not finding anything funny about that.... - They are among that number of people! Among those who only multiply everything! The ones I need to justify and apologise to! And I don't want to! I'm tired! I'm fucked up! I haven't done anything wrong! Nothing that I deserve any of this!!! - with that last scream, I nearly tore my throat out. At least I felt the tart fluttering afterwards.

- Bart, I didn't know it was so hard for you. But you're a man, and you have to--

- Then stay out of it. - After releasing my stress, this time I responded calmly. - If I don't care if I end up in the slammer for possession. What do you care?

- What do you mean, what business?! - Engle was genuinely surprised. I'm your coach! Of course you are.

- Former. You're my former coach, Mr Engle. Take a lesson from my family and just don't waste your time on me.

- ... - the coach's bushy eyebrows lowered and his gaze trembled. He didn't utter any words, however.

- That's it for this. Shall I go?

- Uh-huh... - And even the chance I unknowingly gave him for myself, he didn't take it.

.....

Having seemingly burned all the bridges that connected me to a better past, I continued to slowly rot away. I skipped school quietly, because the teachers and the principal opposite were only happy about my absence, what to say about my classmates....

I even stopped showing up at home. I started hanging out and sleeping in a brothel with the guy who got me involved. The constant smell of piss and rot was disconcerting at first, but you get used to it.

- Aah!

There are exceptions to everything, though. For example, some drug addicts are harder to get used to. There are the peaceful ones who just lie down in a corner and disappear into their fantasy world, devoid of trouble. Then there are those who have much more vivid reactions. Some of them yell like crazy. There's been a few instances where knives have been pulled. A couple of times someone's been foaming at the mouth. Someone got wet in the trousers. One time I witnessed a rape, I think? Anyway, the other bloke didn't react.

It's a bit of a dive. But there's food and a heated corner with a mattress. What more could you ask for?

Isn't it strange that despite all of the above, I'm still much more comfortable inside the brothel than outside. I'm more comfortable with coked-up people than I am with regular people outside.

And so the month of my probation came to an end. I haven't stopped delivering substances.

.....

I guess the next big thing happened another week or two later? Life really is like a calendar where every page is equally grey.

Anyway, during one home delivery, in a pretty shitty neighbourhood in Springfield, I met up with....

- Gina? - The girl I escaped from juvie with.

- Mama's boy? - with her usual angry look, brushed a pink strand out of her eyes.

Our escape took place during a dance between the boys' and girls' colonies. And yes, 'our' was solely because I was chained to Gina.

- Look, I actually had two weeks to get out.

- Why'd you have to get out at all? I heard your dad was working security. - He was. A day. At the end of which I got a big slap on the wrist.

- Haa. Look, I don't have time for this. Get your neighbour or your boyfriend, I'll deliver. - Not wanting to mess with a rabid woman, I got down to business.

- Who? I live alone. - From the way the place is decorated, it looks like there's at least four people in there. One person can't make that much mess. I know, I've tried. - Wait, delivery? What are you, a drug mule?!

- Shh!

- You? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

- Look, I could walk away.

- Are you sure? - Gina laughed at me, then unbuttoned her denim jacket, revealing a nice big chest....

.....

What did I say about the rabies connection?

- Haa... Sex under marijuana* is nothing compared to that. - Gina said with a satisfied face as she took a puff from her second cigarette.

What can I say, after breaking up with Terry, all I had was a hand.

- I take it I can't count on money? - As I put on my jeans, I couldn't see any wrapping, notes, or any other evidence of pre-prepared money.

- Ha-ha-ha, after I gave it to you, I have to pay you back? It was good, but don't overestimate yourself! Ha ha ha ha ha!

Even though the usual delivery suddenly turned into sex. I'm much more impressed by meeting someone who knows me, under these circumstances.

- Hoo... What are you standing there for? You're counting on a second time? I'll see you on the next delivery.

- Do you give it to everyone who brings it?

- Huh? Do you want to die?! - just like years ago, Gina goes from relaxed to aggressive to pulling a switchblade out from under her pillow in a second. - I only give to the good-looking ones.

- Thank you?

- You're welcome. - putting the knife back under the pillow, Gina went back to her schmaltz. - What are you doing up? Any other questions?

- How long have you been out?

- Three days ago on parole.

- And you're already breaking it?!

- Who cares, Bart? Although mama's boys wouldn't understand. - Gina's an orphan. When we escaped, she made several references to her cool parents, which, as her tears after we were freed from our shackles proved, were lies. - I'm nineteen, Bart, and I've spent half my life in prison. I'm going back there one way or another, so why delay?

Whether it was Gina's calm voice or the complexity of what she was saying, I swallowed my tongue. I didn't even have a thought. All I could think of was:

- Well, goodbye, then.

.....

Ever since that sudden meeting, I'd asked that Gina's orders be passed exclusively to me. I guess I just wanted sex without commitment, but with someone with whom I could exchange at least a few words before and after....

- You guys have one courier? Haa. It's worth a one-star rating on the net...

Not to say that our conversations consist of endorsements and other sweet things found in films. Moreover, often our conversations made us both want to kill each other, but.....

- Can you believe the old bitch kicked me out of work for slapping the hand of a kid trying to steal candy?

- How old was he?

- Twelve. And she used a stapler. Ha-ha-ha.

Our dialogue felt alive and real. It made me feel alive too, little by little.

- I've been wondering for a long time. Why do you have a sabre-toothed tiger there?

- So people don't think they can stick it in me without repercussions. - knowing that Gina kept a knife under her pillow, I decided not to comment further. - Oh, and plus, I'm not much of a yeller, and so Diego performs that function for me, so to speak! Ha-ha-ha-ha!

Naturally, Gina never paid for the merchandise. In fact, I bought it for her. Could it be considered that I was renting a prostitute in a complicated way? I'm more inclined to think of her from a psychiatrist's perspective.....

- I was once told by a prison therapist that all my anger and inadequate reactions come from not receiving enough love as a child.... Maybe she was right. It's a shame I bit her ear off.

- How did you even get paroled?!

- I don't know. Maybe she's a judge's wife, or maybe she was trying to brainwash someone important.

Sometimes we talked about personal stuff, but most of it was nothing. I was more than okay with it, even though I knew one day she'd say something terrible...

- ...Bart, why haven't you ever inhaled? If you're afraid I paid for it with my body, so you don't have the right to praise the high, don't worry, I didn't do the transaction without a high.

It was only a matter of time before Gina offered me a drag..... With any other person, I would have declined without a second thought.... But by this day, Gina was the only person I could even remotely call close.... So I--

- Hoo. Kghaa! Kghaa! - tried pot for the first time.