The stands
of the Cantown Memorial Arena are packed front to back with
audience members from every kingdom. Presently the crowd is going
nuts, enthralled by Jake English’s skillful posing and mollified by
the deeply theatrical stage dive that Dirk has just taken onto the
mat. Dirk, in fact, has unquestioningly eaten shit. His shit eating
was so brutal that no one, except maybe Jake, cares that he’s
taking a phone call in the middle of a live broadcast. And no one
should, really. The broadcast has been going for three hours
already.
Dave takes a seat on the couch, right in Karkat’s butt groove.
He observes his battered ecto-father, who is lying inside a wreath
of busted robot limbs like a piece of absolute garbage.
DAVE: bro im watching you on the tube and i gotta
say
DAVE: while the beatdown you just received was as
thorough as it was humiliating im afraid as usual the solution to
this problem should probably not involve your decapitation
DAVE: you fucking drama queen
DIRK: Damn.
DIRK: Are you sure?
DAVE: yeah
DAVE: jake just kicked your ass
DAVE: thats really all there is to say on the
matter
DIRK: You’re probably right.
DIRK: But still not entirely sure we should be so
quick to rule out my beheading as a catchall solution to any given
problem.
DIRK: It really could save us all a lot of trouble
in the future. Especially me.
DAVE: its really amazing how this meme we have
going here continues to be exactly as funny as the day it was
established
DIRK: Isn’t it always though?
DAVE: yeah
DAVE: by the way
DAVE: how DID you get your ass kicked so bad
DAVE: jake sucks and his raps are fucking awful
DAVE: please tell me this garbage show is as rigged
as it looks
On the TV, Dirk makes an elegant hand sign
that once might have represented solidarity with some ancient
coastal rap group but now has been utterly divorced from its
cultural context here on Earth C. The camera pans away from him and
over the crowd. It zooms in on a young crocodile wearing an
oversized T-shirt with Jake’s highly marketable ass plastered over
it and the phrase “Tally ho” written in big bubble letters.
DIRK: Dave, there’s such a thing as
showmanship.
DIRK: I’m sure I don’t need to explain this to you,
of all people.
DAVE: ok cool its fake just making sure
DIRK: Sigh.
DIRK: We really don’t like to use that word.
DAVE: lmao ok
DIRK: Holding back a little to achieve certain
results doesn’t necessarily mean you’re participating in a farce or
rigging the event.
DIRK: We do this all the time. We hold back our
thoughts, our true feelings, our full potential. We disguise how
much we know about what and when, for many purposes. To ease
relations, to let others behave naturally and make up their minds
without undue intervention. To wait for the right moments to show
our hands, to pick our battles.
DIRK: In life, there are many reasons to show
restraint, which would never be regarded as an attempt to rig
reality.
DAVE: oof
DAVE: my dog you are full of some SHIT today arent
you
DIRK: Absolutely.
DIRK: And when it comes to theater, there are just
as many reasons for restraint. To build tension. To set the stage.
To give the people someone to root against.
DAVE: is that what youre doing now
DAVE: making people root against you
DIRK: What, by losing a round? No, man. That’s just
standard pacing stuff when it comes to battlecraft.
DAVE: no i mean by holding up the whole fight by
talking to me
DAVE: i can see you on tv
DAVE: theyre booing you dude
The crowd has indeed finally exhausted both
its patience and its thirst for the ceaseless ogling of Jake’s
impressive glutes. The camera swings around to focus on Dirk, who,
since landing on his self-admittedly second-rate ass, has not moved
except to make arcane, rap-related hand gestures.
The excitable salamander manning the camera switches to a
fish-eye lens for some unfathomable reason, giving the whole
exchange an air of demented absurdity. Dirk’s sunglasses distort
and stretch to dominate the entire screen.
DIRK: Oh.
DIRK: Then yes, I guess that is what I’m doing.
JAKE: Dirk are you going to be much longer with
your telephone call?
JAKE: The crowd is getting feisty... you didnt get
too badly winded from our last scrum did you dirk?
DIRK: Haha, no Jake. I’m fine. I’ll just be a
minute.
JAKE: What about the agitated rabble? Theyre
starting to throw things.
DIRK: I don’t know. Do a dance or something. Sing a
song.
DIRK: They love anything you do.
JAKE: Ummm.
JAKE: Ok sounds stupid but ill try.
Jake tips an imaginary hat toward center stage
and begins doing the Charleston. Dave is subjected to an entire
fish-eye lensful of Jake’s booty shorts flexing and constricting
against his tanned thighs.
Just as Dirk predicted, the crowd immediately loses its shit,
except for a single carapacian in the front row, who continues to
glower at Dirk with an expression of absolute and total
contempt.
DAVE: why do you want people to hate you so
much
DAVE: its fucked up
DIRK: You’re reading way too much into it.
DIRK: If I wanted another round of embarrassingly
indulgent and mutually masturbatory psychoanalysis, I would have
called my daughter instead.
DAVE: hm
DAVE: do i need to point out how fucking weird what
you just said was or can that start going without saying at this
point
DIRK: I think it can go without saying.
DAVE: nice
DIRK: The point is, playing myself up as a villain
figure in this hacky rap pageant has nothing to do with getting
people to dislike me. Besides, everyone loves a good villain. When
they boo, they don’t really mean it.
DIRK: I think you’d be surprised by how popular I
actually am.
DAVE: i dunno man
Something flies out of the audience and smacks
Dirk in the side of the head before flopping out of view of the
camera. He doesn’t react, or make a facial expression at all.
DAVE: did...
DAVE: did someone just throw a diaper at you
DIRK: There’s gonna be some diapers, yeah.
DAVE: sounds bad
DIRK: The point is, this is much less about me, and
more about providing a foil for Jake’s heroism and charisma.
DIRK: It’s very important that his popularity
continues to be cultivated, to maximize his political capital.
DAVE: political capital
DAVE: what the fuck are...
DAVE: ok how long have you known about the jane
thing
DAVE: i mean is this something you have been
planning for like
DAVE: a long time or
DIRK: Planning is such an intense word.
DAVE: god damn it
DIRK: Look, let’s just say there have been some
conversations.
DIRK: Does that meet with your approval?
DAVE: jane is a shitty candidate dude
DAVE: shes going to be so shitty
DIRK: I thought you’d feel that way.
DIRK: I respectfully disagree.
DAVE: i get shes a good friend of yours and all but
even you have to admit how far up her own ass she is
DIRK: Of course. I consider it to be among her best
qualifications for the job.
DAVE: christ
DAVE: ok if nothing else have you at least taken
into account the DEVASTATION to the economy this will cause???
DIRK: You know perfectly well how much we differ on
fiscal policy.
DIRK: Maybe this isn’t the best time for one of our
epic debates on the subject?
DAVE: yeah what was i thinking
DAVE: wasting the time of the dude currently
holding up a televised rap contest so bad hes gettin diapers thrown
at him
DIRK: Dave, I think if you search your soul, you’ll
come to the same conclusion I have. Jane is just what this planet
needs.
DIRK: We’ve all had our fun here, but it’s easy to
overlook the fact that civilization on Earth C is hardly a
sustainable proposition.
DIRK: Just beneath the surface, it’s quite a
dangerous and unstable place.
DAVE: i know that
DAVE: which is why actually i think it would be
cool to have a president that is good instead of bad
DIRK: He’s not as great as you think.
DAVE: what
DAVE: who
DAVE: obama??
DAVE: how dare you
DIRK: No, fool.
DIRK: Karkat.
DAVE: oh
DIRK: I think your heart is in the right place, but
the dude is a complete amateur.
DIRK: He’ll get eaten alive. I also have a hard
time imagining he even wants the job.
DIRK: Really, it’s an awful idea for him to even
run. Think about how much it’s going to inflame the interspecies
tensions on this planet. Is that what you want?
DIRK: I’m happy for both of you, really. It’s nice
that you encourage and support each other in this way. But you’re
sending him on a fool’s errand which can only end badly.
Dave opens his mouth to argue, but something
else occurs to him.
DAVE: wait
DAVE: how do you even know hes entering the
race
DAVE: we like just decided this
DIRK: A competent political operative has his
ways.
DIRK: Besides, it was always pretty obvious to me
you’d react this way the moment the announcement was made.
DAVE: ok thats kinda creepy i guess but it doesnt
change anything
DAVE: hes running for president and hes going to
fuckin win end of story
DIRK: Fair enough.
DAVE: though now im wondering
DAVE: since you and jane have been planning this
for a while how many key endorsements have you locked up
DAVE: cause if youve already got jake on your side
then i guess we might as well just fucking quit
DIRK: I wouldn’t worry about that.
DIRK: He and I don’t quite have the rapport we once
did.
DIRK: He’s “over me” and doesn’t spare
opportunities to make ostentatious demonstration of this claim.
DAVE: um
DIRK: Basically he doesn’t like being told what to
do. Especially not by me.
DIRK: So it’s fair to say as of now, he’s still
fully in play.
DIRK: Not that I should be encouraging you,
really.
DAVE: you are one doubletalking son of a bitch you
know that
DAVE: i cant tell if you dont want us to run or are
reverse psychology mindfucking us into running
DIRK: Does it matter?
DAVE: i guess not
DAVE: not like i can just stand around and wait for
president crocker to like
DAVE: write fucking grammar laws into the
constitution
DIRK: Good.
DIRK: That’s a heroic attitude to have, which I’m
pleased to hear. Even if your plan is stupid, which it is, and even
if Karkat would be an atrocious president, which he would.
DAVE: nuh uh
DIRK: Sorry to cut this short, but diapers are
starting to come down pretty hard right now, and some of them
haven’t even had their babies removed.
DAVE: what
DIRK: That was a joke.
DIRK: Goodbye, Dave.
Dirk hangs up the phone and wipes off his
face. The mood in Cantown Memorial Arena is tense, snapping and
popping from the dual cooling and heating of the audience’s
expectations and tempers. An uneven silence begins to fall over the
stadium as Dirk hops to his feet. Jake can’t help but watch the
motion, raking his eyes over the muscles shifting beneath the skin
of Dirk’s neck and arms.
There is something implacably magnificent about Dirk Strider,
Jake thinks, untamed like a wild game beast of incredible size and
strength. Of course, their history together is never far from
Jake’s mind, however many years it’s been since their last tussle
of an amorous nature. The old dramas and triumphs in the days of
Sburb. Dirk’s companionship has been taxing to the heart, to say
the least, and yet he’s taught Jake so much—about combat,
philosophy, life, love.
But sometimes, despite their checkered and problematic past,
Jakes wishes that he could seize Dirk by the proverbial horns and
wrest him bodily into becoming a much more agreeable fellow. Then
again, who would Dirk be if he weren’t so contentious and
imperious? Certainly not someone to inspire such wistful
lollygagging, Jake cannot help but observe.
DIRK: Sorry for the momentary diversion, Jake. Now
where were we?
JAKE: Momentary??? Gadzooks man you were on the
phone for half a friggin hour!
JAKE: I know you like to get the crowd all hot and
bothered but we are supposed to be professionals here!
DIRK: You’re right, my bad. Won’t happen again.
DIRK: How about you kick off the next round?
DIRK: I bet this crowd will settle its shit right
down the moment you drop the latest rhymes you’ve been tinkering
with.
DIRK: You know the ones.
JAKE: Gasp.
JAKE: You dont mean...
DIRK: Oh. But I DO.
Jake’s face lights up. He composes himself,
adjusting a bow tie, although he is not wearing one, and making a
vague gesture like he’s twirling one end of that mustache Dirk has
not yet let him grow. Dirk lets him go with a gentle smile, like
the sort you’d give to a dog for performing a trick adequately.
Jake responds to the signal like an Olympic athlete hearing the
starter pistol. He was born for this.
JAKE: Tally ho its me, jake mcgee!
JAKE: Popping my pistols off, two shots and a
kiss
JAKE: My aim is tops, i never miss
JAKE: One shot to the heart and the other to your
lips
JAKE: Im heedless
JAKE: You cant impede this
JAKE: While these cads are all hat and very little
cattle
JAKE: Cattle so weak one fears they might be
feedless!
JAKE: As i prattle and digress you try to make your
egress
JAKE: In the middle of the battle, but surely ye
jest?
JAKE: FIDDLE FADDLE!
JAKE: My rhymes are known to bring the rattle
JAKE: I rattle those bones right down to the
bit
JAKE: Im a mellifluous old chap who knows how to
take a hit
JAKE: Im the tip...
JAKE: Tip top of the morning!
JAKE: A rip roaring halt to your snoring
JAKE: Like pouring butter on bacon
JAKE: Their hunger awakens!
JAKE: All the rascally scalawags
JAKE: And dastardly jackanapes
JAKE: Always ask of me, mate what is shaking?
JAKE: With golden gas pipes such as jake-eng’s
JAKE: Im dodging their shade and ducking their
jape-slings
JAKE: While my rump stokes a thirst that my rhymes
have been slaking!
The crowd, as Dirk rightly predicted, has
settled its shit right down. This is not due to any accidental
brilliance on the part of Jake English, but rather due to an
abashed but loyal brand of pity, the kind a devoted fan cannot help
but feel when they see a beloved celebrity make an ass out of
themselves during a live broadcast they have waited two and a half
years in line to buy a ticket for.
Dirk’s phone begins going off again.
JAKE: When the splendid lads and ladies ask me “how
do you do?” i -
DIRK: Whoops. Jake, sorry to cut you off...
DIRK: Looks like I’m getting another call. Really
need to take this one.
DIRK: Gonna have to wrap this battle up sooner than
scheduled.
With a casual flick of his wrist, Dirk snaps
out a bright red tranquilizer handgun and shoots Jake in the neck.
Jake’s glasses crack when he hits the mat. A chorus of boos rises
up from the crowd like groundwater. Dirk artfully dodges a bucket
of obscene troll fluid to field yet another very important personal
call.
DIRK: Yo Rose, what’s up?