Humor

…Someday I hope someone living understands my sense of humor.

In the meantime, my family had stopped vomiting and I’m grateful. Have a lovely week, all.

… …

Lem wants to talk about why Lacey wrote about social class. It sort of bothered him. And as much as he loves her he still can’t figure it out.

*Michael laughs*

“Why did you write it?!” he asks Lacey. “Wait, let me guess. You wanted mercy?”

“Mercy from who?” asks Lacey.

This isn’t going as well as he expected.

“Ok. So you wanted mercy from your haters?”

“In what way?”

He smiles. “From people who aren’t as blessed as you.”

“Yes. In a way.”

He covers his mouth and grows enraged. He restrains himself.

Silence.

“Okay, so why did you do it?” he asks suspiciously.

“Because I thought it was a very funny joke.” says Lacey.

He’s speechless.

“What was the joke?” asks Michael.

“All of it.” says Lacey.

“What’s all of it?” asks Lem.

Michael grows increasingly uncomfortable and darts off. He seems concerned about Lacey.

“You. Me. Them. Everyone but God who isn’t truly innocent or a child. Everyone is guilty or if they aren’t then why? Why are they free from responsibility for what a shit show-“

*Michael laughs*

everything is today? Why are they so righteous? What great deed have they done to redeem themselves? What? Working hard? Doesn’t cut it. The only thing that saves you is genuine innocence-“

*Michael laughs again*

“like the kind a child has or purity of heart. And very few people are that pure. I wrote that hit piece to piss people off. I wanted to make people lose their peace and it worked. Beautifully. And that’s incredibly depressing. …Because I carefully worded it to make just the right sort of people angry in just the right sort of way. To find out who was ‘guilty.’ You know I wanted to be a criminal prosecutor. For years.”

Lem looks uncomfortable.

“I love finding out people’s true intentions. I find people fascinating. And I was curious to see how they’d all respond.” says Lacey.

Lem tries to interrupt her. “Sort of like how F. Scott Fitzgerald called that woman a silly bitch and got punched by her husband?” he asks.

“Yes!” says Lacey.

Lem looks disturbed. Fascinated by Lacey but disturbed.

“Why do you want to piss people off?” he asks.

“Because they lie. And the way they became angry revealed their truths. The pretenses were gone.”

“And so you believed them more readily?” asks Lem.

“Yes. I was tired of hearing lies. I also was very tired of being misunderstood and being attacked.”

“You were attacked.” says Michael. He turns to Lem. “Why is that so hard for you to understand? Weren’t you attacked? Hasn’t Lacey paid enough attention to that? Or should she give you more sex, attention and unrequited, unconditional love to find out what the point of this conversation even was? Because she’s trying her hardest. Doesn’t that count? Or no? What counts with you? I’m curious. Because I have feelings too. And it’s not fun for me to watch you be so loved. I’d like that love. Or can’t I have it? And why?”

“This did not go well.” says Bobby Sr..

“Lem, she’s been suicidal since childhood. She has very little to lose by being brutally honest at certain times. And I doubt she gravitates toward certain aspects of living. She’s probably very angry for good reason. I’m sorry.” Bobby says. “And yes, I mean you and Jack too. Why wouldn’t I?!”

“Her fears aren’t crazy, Lem.” says Saoirse.

“You’re welcome. Anything else you’d like to ask?” says Michael to Lem.

“Why did you do it?!” Lem asks Lacey.

“What are you looking for when you ask questions like this?” she asks.

“My heart broke when you went off with someone else. I didn’t see that as being in your character-“ says Lem.

“It’s not. I don’t think.” says Lacey.

“She’s not lying.” says Michael.

“You’re a more complicated person than I ever imagined you would be.” says Lem.

“Thanks?” says Lacey, hurt.

“You know I mean that as a compliment right?” asks Lem.

“No. I know you mean it as both a huge insult and a compliment. Lem…I’m the boring housewife who couldn’t compete with Jack’s dick on the side and trinket runs for the Kremlin. If I’m not boring or that’s not what you meant how much respect do you think I have for the words you left behind for me to find…fascinating? They’re asinine, misogynistic, embarrassing bullshit words that make me want shoot you out of sympathy for your massive stupidity…or what? I’m supposed to say thank you?”

Silence.

“Should they have shot you in head in the same place as Jack like your matching swim trunks? Matching bullet holes!” *huge fake smile*

“Then your life could have actually ended. Yay!! *she claps her hands like a seal* No more sad faces! Awww! Poor Lemmy! Aww. He had true love for decades…and a room in the White House? Or what? And then when his prized (eventually stolen) peach got shot…he fell apart like a silly, useless bitch? And shot kids full of cocaine and heroin? To be cool? That’s why I fucked someone else. Because you look eventually looked like a cheap, crackhead hoe Jack found on sale at Brooks Brothers that the family used out of poverty.” She smiles. “And if that’s not who you are, fine.” She smiles. “Aww! I’m open-minded. Are you? No? Hmm. That’s interesting…”

“You’re just a jealous straight lady!” says Joe Jr. to Lacey like a ‘retarded person’ in imitation of a photo of Lem and his sister seemingly mocking someone.

“Fool!” says an irritated Katharine Hepburn about Lem. “Now Lacey looks like a dumb, angry bitch. And she’s not. Far from it.”

“No. She looks like a friend of mine.” says Joe Jr..

“Lem. I don’t hate you. But I’m not someone to take advantage of. I’ll either bleed a bloody, tragic death as a true victim or I’ll be-“

“Please!” says a masculine faced female moviestar in the Illuminati who wants to steal Lacey’s femininity demonically to get laid, have power and be admired. As in, please die. She thinks it’s hilarious to joke about Lacey’s death.

“Or I’ll make you regret it. It’s just the way I’m made. It’s intinctual.”

“What would you do as my punishment for hurting those kids if you died and found out this was and is real?” asks Lem.

“I’d make you cut off your own head in a mirror watching yourself with a sharp knife. And then when you came back from death to death…I’d make you write jokes about that death truly appropriate for small children. And then if you couldn’t write one you’d starve to death until you could. And that cycle would keep repeating until you could fully humble yourself before God. And if that was wrong…as in in error of scripture…I’d just let God handle it. I don’t want to be cruel or heartless.” says Lacey.

“I could do better.” says Elliott Roosevelt. “Just…all of you…keep that in mind.”

“We like to keep it in the fam man!” says Louis jokingly. “Gosh, Lem! I’m glad I didn’t get shot and let you watch the vulnerable, mentally-ill children I left behind.”

“She’s living. We’re just dead.” says someone fatherly.

“I break that curse over you!” says a possibly foolish Christian.

“I doubt that’s a curse.”

“Even if they psychologically handled me by talking me into doing drugs using kids?” asked Lem.

“Yes. You should have just shot yourself in the face before you surrendered and hurt a child.” says Lacey. “Or you should have cut them all off as a family.”

“Dammit.” says a black man who agrees with Lacey.

“You’re right.” says Lem. “And none of this is why I asked you why you wrote that post about social class. Is this really why you weren’t stuck on me?”

“It’s part of it. I’ve told you this before.”

“Even if there’s an excuse. I’m still enraged.” they both say.

Michael smiles. “Lacey is going to go now. She’s very upset. And I am too. We both love you, Lem. We both do. In very different ways. She’s in love. I love you as a person. Truly. It doesn’t have to end like this. But I think you’ve mishandled her tender heart. Be careful with your jealous assumptions about her. God does care.”