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[ lays back on a therapist's couch while smoking a cigarette; ]
& see thierry SUCKS. as a person. thierry sucks in a lot of ways,
he's not the worst person ever & a very wide degree from being THE worst, you know? he honestly tries to be a decent person where it counts; backpedaling when he does something stupid, trying to have an open mind about things he doesn't understand or doesn't like, tries to help the people he cares about when possible, minds his manners for the most part, isn't violent with others unless needing to defend himself or rosemary OR having a bit of fatal fun with her ( with consent of course ), & he genuinely gets a little bit better as a person the longer he spends with rosemary.
but then you've got his more apathetic nature twisting interactions with others into a fuckfest, an excuse to antagonize & bully people ( albeit in a " i never moved on from 6th grade " ) type of way mostly, practicing cruelty just a step behind kicking babies, occasionally standing behind the stupid things he does & giving shitty, stubborn defenses if he doesn't try standing behind his wife to hide, The Entirety of The Stanley Parable & His Behaviors There, such & such- FULL WELL KNOWING this is the shit he's going to hate himself for later! knowing full well people don't like when he acts like a jackass!
& he's not go rhyme or reason for acting like that! the fuckhead neuron kicked in !!!!!! & he only got a bit better with age because rosemary's presence humbled him, BUT ONLY A LITTLE BIT! & HE NEEDED SOMEONE ELSE TO GUIDE HIM TO DO THAT! THIS 60 SOMETHING YEAR OLD MAN
& granted. he's completely isolated & echoing his own thoughts in a chamber of his own design otherwise. & when you are listening to yourself on loop for god knows how long with nobody else's input beyond what you assume to be societal norm, nothing's going to get done, right? so it's not ALL on him necessarily.
necessarily.
development's naturally stunted for the shut-in who's BEEN shut-in for honest to god probably all of his life.
Another day, another trip to their Boss’s Office to be chastised for all they’ve purportedly done wrong. The threat of being fired doesn’t bother Employee #432. At this point, they’d welcome it! Still, these meetings are always a chore…
Tuning the yelling out, they let their eyes drift over the room’s decor. Perhaps they’ll “borrow” a book sometime. Might be nice to vary the painful monotony of endless workplace life. What they wouldn’t give to listen to some music!
Now 432’s gaze falls on the piano, tucked in the corner of the room. It’s a lovely piano, with a smooth black paint job and glossy keys. A beautiful instrument like that must make wonderful music, but… Gosh, they don’t think they’ve seen anyone touch that thing, in, well, ever! Does the Boss even know how to play? They doubt it. To have such a lovely object and never let it fulfill its purpose—what nonsense! How sad for the piano to be capable of so much, yet denied completion of the very task it’s made for! Unbearable.
Me too, piano, thinks 432. Me too.
The only way, they think, to resolve this tragedy, was if the piano could achieve greatness in some other way. If only there were people out there who saw the piano and met its unrealized potential with recognition—who admired it in spite of forced shortcomings. Yes, 432 is sure of it! That would give the piano meaning. But how to do it? Hmm. Maybe, 432 decides, if there was to be some sort of competition: a chance for all the best minor locations of this office prison to prove their worth. Surely, the piano would reign supreme. Surely, it would have its time to shine.
432 pulls their eyes away from the piano, looking back at their Boss’s reddened face, and then at his desk.
(There’s a pencil on it. They imagine what it would feel like in the palm of their hand.)
Surely, surely one day, a melody will echo down these looping halls, intertwined with a sharpener’s whir and a tick-tick-tick. They can almost hear it, if they try…