(A story in 128 words)
It's funny isn't it?
How in a book or a story or a Hollywood movie, the brash bastard punk anti-hero cunt has got to have some fallibility. Some weaker side. Some critical flaw. Some reason for the chicks to love him. Something to humanise.
Yet, if I'd ever dared to have ever cared enough to have ever cried, you bastards would have had me crucified.
Show some weakness if you dare and see what happens to your friends. Watch them transfigure from smiling sweaty flesh pots to creatures of horns and talons that clack, clack, clack over your bones.
Listen posthumously to the explanation that a nail in the head is an ancient remedy for a feeble mind. I'm telling these bastards nothing.
"Yeah, fine thanks. And yourself?"