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<h1>Chapter 34</h1>
<div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm line-caption line-copy pad-x-0 pad-x-lg pad-b-lg">
<p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm">S</span>peaking of
giving it everything you got, here comes Jake McGee, about to pop
his pistols off in front of a whole crowd of Karkats progressively
prismatic proletarian partisans.</p>
<p class="dirk">Okay, lets strike that bit of alliteration from
the record. I dont know what came over me. I probably just made
the mistake of getting too close to the gaping black hole that
radiates pure asininity from the space between Jakes ears. His
event horizon of buffoonery has the dual effect of making
everything around him slightly lamer while sucking unsuspecting
victims into wanton sexual indiscretions, which, if youre very
lucky, youll be too drunk to even remember. But, well, look at
him: how can you <em>not</em> fuck this guy? I mean, Im never
going to fuck him again, but I bet theres a good chance that
<em>you</em> want to. Dont even try to say you dont, cause no
ones buying it. After all, thats what this entire election is
about to boil down to—decisions made based on the primal
fuckability of the dumbest asshole on Earth.</p>
<p class="dirk">The crowd is all in a tizzy waiting for Jake to
sashay his famous ass back up to the podium. It was quite
melodramatic, that little assassination fakeout I staged. It might
have even inadvertently jumped the Vantas campaign in the polls. Of
course, Id never do something so stupid as turn Karkat Vantas into
a martyr. God, could you imagine? The last time some incompetent
asshole with his blood color bumbled his way into a tragically
symbolic death, the entire troll race spent half a millennium
stroking themselves off to it until they were convinced hearing the
word “fuck” could trigger spontaneous enlightenment. No thanks.
Jakes going to put an end to Karkats political career with the
level of gravitas it deserves—all the pomp and circumstance of a
wet fart.</p>
<p class="dirk">Here comes the man of the hour. He stops at the
base of the stage. Adjusts his bow tie. Rolls the hemline on his
shorts up another notch to show off the top quarters of his finely
tuned and greased vastus lateralis muscles. He slides the
endorsement speech Dave has so considerately prepared for him out
of his front pocket. I let him read it over one more time even
though theres nothing in the universe that could possibly matter
less.</p>
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
<p class="dave">DAVE: yo</p>
<p class="dave">DAVE: sure you still want to do this</p>
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH. ITS NOT TOO LATE TO CALL IT
OFF.</p>
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: BY WHICH I MEAN THIS ENTIRE FUCKING
COMEDY OF ERRORS THAT DAVE PREPOSTEROUSLY INSISTS ON CALLING A
“CAMPAIGN.”</p>
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: OR HOW ABOUT THE ELECTION ITSELF? WE CAN
PUT THE KIBOSH ON THAT TOO IF YOU WANT.</p>
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: IF YOURE FEELING UNCOMFORTABLE JAKE,
JUST SAY THE WORD. WELL STICK A PRONGSHOVEL IN THE WHOLE DEAL AND
GO HOME.</p>
</div>
<p class="no-indent dirk">Dave elbows him.</p>
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: OR. YOU KNOW. JUST YOUR SPEECH.</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Dont be daffy chaps. If i were the sort of
man to balk at a bit of hot potato in the evening i wouldnt be
where i am today!</p>
</div>
<p class="no-indent dirk">Dave and Karkat exchange a <em>look</em>.
They dont stop him, though, because a plan is a plan. Jake spins
on his heel and goes swaggering up toward the podium, grinning
cheek to cheek at the familiar sound of a crowd chanting his name.
He sets his speech down and smooths out the paper only to find his
hands swamped with sweat.</p>
<p class="dirk">Whats that, Jake? You didnt notice your hands
were sweating until now? Not surprising considering how overtaxed
your precious few neurons are at any given time.</p>
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
<p class="jake">JAKE: I... I... er hallo folks dandy weather were
having here isnt it.</p>
</div>
<p class="no-indent dirk">Jakes hands are so sweaty theyve
smeared the words in the speech beyond recognition. He begins to
panic.</p>
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
<p class="jake">JAKE: Er... thank you... everyone for coming out on
this benjo of a day to um...</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Do whatever it is that weve all congregated
to do!</p>
</div>
<p class="no-indent dirk">At the bottom of the stage, Karkat and
Dave put their heads together in adorably platonic conspiratorial
kinship. Karkat whispers directly into the shell of Daves ear. I
dont even have to direct him to do that, its just his natural
inclination to practically stick his tongue straight to the center
of Daves skull, while practicing a bit of perfectly harmless,
nonsexual, intimate close-talking. Jesus, if I have to watch one
more minute of this beta-bitch calamity Im going to fucking
dissipate on an atomic level.</p>
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: (WHAT IS HE DOING? I SAW HIM REREAD THE
SPEECH.)</p>
<p class="dave">DAVE: (yeah)</p>
<p class="dave">DAVE: (idk he does this public speaking shit every
day maybe this is just how he warms a crowd up)</p>
<p class="dave">DAVE: (lets give him a... hm)</p>
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: (DAVE?)</p>
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: (ARE YOU OK.)</p>
<p class="dave">DAVE: (oh im fine)</p>
<p class="dave">DAVE: (for a moment something felt... off?)</p>
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: (AGAIN???)</p>
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: (WHAT, IS THE ASSASSIN GOING TO TAKE HIM
OUT AFTER ALL???)</p>
<p class="dave">DAVE: (no its not that)</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Its wonderful to see such a jammy cornucopia
of supporters!</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: By golly the lot of you sure are enthusiastic
about that karkat chap.</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Which means that we potentially have a few
things in common since ive come here to...</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: To... to...</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Ive come to...</p>
</div>
<p class="no-indent dirk">Jake tugs at collar. It feels tight,
suddenly. Hes dripping buckets down under his suspenders. Dark
patches are starting to form on his dress shirt.</p>
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
<p class="jake">JAKE: Rather that is to say,</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: In delicate times such as these,</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Even though usually its a toffer of a bad
idea to talk politics in public,</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Today we have all most certainly gathered
here,</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: T-to have what is definitely a political
conversation.</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Y-yes that d-does seem to... be the lay of
the land.</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Th-that ive come here to... tell you all
about my political opinions...</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Which I will get to um shortly and with er
minimal... verbal bricabrac...</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: B-because I—</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: I...</p>
</div>
<p class="no-indent dirk">Hes trembling so hard he begins to worry
that the crowd can hear it, like the sound of somebody shaking a
soda can filled with coins. He goes pale as the depravity of what
hes about to do hits him like an eighteen-wheeler.</p>
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
<p class="jake">JAKE: Ive... made a terrible mistake.</p>
</div>
<p class="no-indent dirk">Hey, Jake. Dont undersell yourself here.
Youve made <em>several</em> terrible mistakes, especially as of
late. One might even say that youve made a <em>shit ton</em> of
them, and thats just this fucking week. Or, if youd prefer, a
rusted jalopy stuffed to the whirlygigs with gum feculence, or
whatever inept combination of archaic word garbage will help
underline the sheer level of personal failure youve managed to
achieve.</p>
<p class="dirk">Why dont you have a good, long think about that,
Jake.</p>
<p class="dirk"><em>Is this really the time for a good, long
think?</em> Jake muses to himself, actually putting a finger to his
chin like some public domain clip art picture of a befuddled guy.
If the crowd is confused by his rapid-cycle mood changes, they
dont show it. Jakes got a bit of a day-drinking problem, which
has been slavishly documented in the global tabloids. Thats how
you avoid responsibility, isnt it, Jake? You can fool your fans,
but not yourself. The truth is that theres a canniness to the act.
Its partially <em>cultivated</em>. Youre stupid, but youre not
nearly as stupid as you pretend to be.</p>
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
<p class="jake">JAKE: What in the devil was i thinking coming
here?</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Why did I...?</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: I came here to...</p>
</div>
<p class="no-indent dirk">... slide the biggest knife any
motherfucker ever wielded directly into your friend Jane Crockers
back?</p>
<p class="dirk">She loves you, Jake, more than anything, and you
toyed with her heart. And you would have guiltlessly toyed with her
“kettle drums” too had it not been for a bit of <em>divine
intervention</em>, lets decide to call it.</p>
<p class="dirk">But wait, youre thinking. Wasnt Jane merely
executing a cold-blooded maneuver to rein you into the stable of
her campaign using her body? How are you the bad guy here?</p>
<p class="dirk">Thats true, she was trying to do that. But come
on—she is <em>ever so much</em> less experienced than you in these
matters, Jake, and without certain invisible guardrails in place to
prevent it, she would have thrown herself at you again and again
with wide-eyed, girlish wonder.</p>
<p class="dirk">Or at least, thats what you like to believe. That
people cant resist you. That you have no responsibility for their
feelings. That everyone uses <em>you</em>. That <em>youre</em> the
victim. Yes, its <em>so unfair</em> that anyone in this universe
or the last has ever had a single expectation of Jake English. Why
should anyone respect your personal autonomy when youre
practically begging to be taken advantage of?</p>
<p class="dirk">So tell me, Jake: which one of us is
<em>really</em> the bad guy here?</p>
<p class="dirk">Jake begins to tear up. He wipes his eyes with what
he thinks is a subtle and manful feint, but everyone in the crowd
sees whats up. Hes trembling, feeling small and naked and raw,
like new flesh after a scabs been pulled away.</p>
<p class="dirk">Hes scared. Hes <em>been</em> scared. Hes been
running from this feeling his entire life, all because he was so
pants-shittingly terrified of being in love with Dirk Strider. And
why wouldnt he be afraid? He knows what will happen when he
finally admits it. Knows deep down that to truly love Dirk would be
to submit to him. Thats a scary thought. It takes a certain degree
of mental fortitude to admit that you love someone so intensely it
could subsume your entire personality.</p>
<p class="dirk">But Jake can see now that its simply how things
were meant to be. There are leaders in this world, and there are
followers, which is a fact that has absolutely nothing to do with
the position one prefers in the bedroom. Jake cant believe hes
wasted years denying something so elemental to his nature that it
might as well be on the periodic fucking table.</p>
<p class="dirk">He braces his shaking hands on the podium and tries
to catch his breath. His mouth is filling with saliva, much like it
does when hes about to throw up. Or when hes desperately,
devastatingly aroused. Jake, are you <em>aroused</em> in public,
thinking about your ex? And in such tight shorts.</p>
<p class="dirk">Sorry, Im overdoing it. That should be enough.
Dudes about to pop off. The words erupt from his mouth like a
tragic, Dirkthirsty Vesuvius:</p>
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
<p class="jake">JAKE: <em>I love dirk!</em></p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: <em>IM IN *LOVE* WITH DIRK!!!</em></p>
</div>
<p class="no-indent dirk">And to love Dirk is to obey him.</p>
<p class="dirk">What would Dirk want him to do in this situation?
Definitely not sell out his good and dear friend Jane for a
loudmouthed pipsqueak who noisily transcends failure even as he
redefines it. Do good by her, Jake. Do good by <em>me</em>.</p>
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
<p class="dave">DAVE: (oh jesus fucking christ)</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Boy howdy...</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Umm.</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Sorry about the hiccup there folks.</p>
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: (HICCUP???)</p>
<p class="dave">DAVE: (smfh)</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: Ive been dealing with some personal issues as
of late and was momentarily distracted.</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: But nevermind that. I know what youve all
come here today to hear.</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: There has been quite a ruckus in the press
these last few weeks concerning the subject of the election and
more importantly where i stand on the candidates.</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: So today id like to set the record
straight,</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: On that matter,</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: As well as all other matters.</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: You see</p>
<p class="jake">JAKE: *takes a deep breath*</p>
<p class="dave">DAVE: (oh no)</p>
<p class="dave">DAVE: (is he about to do what i think he is)</p>
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: (WHAT??)</p>
<p class="karkat">KARKAT: (WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING???)</p>
</div>
<p class="no-indent dirk">Karkat whips his head around and sees
Dave bolt toward the stage, his palm outstretched to stop Jake from
doing what he thinks hes doing. Hes fast, but not fast
enough.</p>
<p class="dirk">Jake opens his big, dumb mouth to make the only
important contribution to the plot he ever has or ever will make in
his whole sad, pointless joke of a life.</p>
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
<p class="jake">JAKE: I—</p>
</div>
<p class="no-indent dirk">Having said that, its not like were
going to sit around and listen to any more words come out of his
mouth than we strictly need to. Christ Almighty, what are we,
masochists? Nah, thats enough of that. Lets see what Johns up
to.</p>
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