When Frederich Met Hayden

"...that's what I thought." Frederich said. "It's 2011 now. You've been dead for a while..."

He blinked, quickly doing the math in his head.

"...Sweet baby Jesus..." he breathed, his eyes wide, "I'm old!"

Frederich chuckled.

"Yeah...But things have changed."

"How many things?" he asked, running his hands over his face as thought wrinkles would spontaneously appear. "Has America denounced Marilyn as a worthless attention-seeking whore?"

"...Not quite."

He swore.

"Goddammit--does...does anyone know who I am?"

"They...might, I guess..."

He frowned sadly.

"...No one even remembers that I existed, huh?"

Frederich shrugged.

"That's how life is..."

He scowled.

"No. That's how Marilyn Monroe is."

He rolled his eyes.

"Of course."

"Oh, you don't believe me?" he asked venomously.

"You lecture me about life, but you're bitter about it yourself."

He glared at Frederich.

"You don't even know what you're talking about."

"Then do explain how you're not bitter."

"...What if I am bitter?" he asked, looking away. "I lost everything, and for what? Don't I deserve to be bitter about this--about dying so stupidly? And you," he said, shoving Frederich in the chest, "What gives you the right to treat life so lightly?! 'Oh, it's no fun, so I'll cop out.' It's disgusting--you don't even know what you have!!"

"I have nothing. Not like you did." He said quietly. "You're the one who doesn't understand..."

He laughed.

"Oh, but you're wrong! You know who has nothing now?" He pointed to himself. "This guy. This guy's got nothing, because he threw it away--what you have left is a chance, kiddo!! A chance to do anything, to make anything of yourself...why wouldn't you use it? Why would you be so stupid as to throw it away and become...me?" His voice became very quiet. "...A nothing..."

Frederich looked down.

"...I have my reasons."

He smiled bitterly.

"You honestly want to spend the rest of existence with the likes of me, cursing Marilyn Monroe's tits?"

"...I won't have any regrets." He said stubbornly.

"Give it a few days," he said, his mouth a straight line. "You'll figure out why you're trapped, and hate yourself for it."