#38. Sympathy for the Devil Chapter 2. Zia's Poker Night
⏮︎ First ⏪︎ Ch. Start ⏴ Prev Next ⏵ Next Ch. ⏩︎ Latest ⏭︎
Ch 2.22 *
#38 *
Oct. 27, 2019
- Chloe: "So why didn't you just say you're a genius?" Zia: "You'd treat me differently." Chloe: "No, I wouldn't." Zia: "Yes, you would. Everyone who knows does. They always do."
- Zia: "Do you know what it's like seeing a thousand answers to a thousand questions every day, more than you'll ever have the time or energy to implement? And then seeing how everyone looks at you if you try, or if they think they know what it means to see what you see?" "It's better to use those smarts to be a grade-A buffoon all the time. Nobody expects anything of the fool. If you're going to get attention anyway, it's safer to get it by making people laugh. It keeps them at a distance."
- Zia: "But distance gets — lonely." "So tell me what you would do: let everyone think you're a fool — and be lonely — or gently introduce the truth via a silly social event to someone you trust — like your roommate — and hope that she'll still be the same friend even after she knows who you really are?"
- Chloe: "This night was all about — " Zia: "Yep." Chloe: "That's — I can't even — I — " Zia: "So which am I? Genius or fool?" Chloe: "I — oh, wow."
- Chloe looks away, perplexed. Zia looks down sadly.
- Chloe (hugs Zia): "Zia, I propose we watch stupid Will Ferrell movies while eating a quart of cookie-dough ice cream, then get drunk and laugh like idiots while throwing marshmallows at the TV." Zia: "You have no idea how much that means to me." End: "End"
Characters: Chloe, End, Zia
Zia's life isn't as easy or as carefree as it looks.
This is the final comic for Chapter 2, "Zia's Poker Night." It's been a long, strange story, and I'll bet it didn't end where any of you expected! Next week, we start up a month of goofy, fun fillers, Reader Mail Month! If there's a question you've been dying to ask about Day Two, you still have a few more days to send it in and possibly get it answered by Chloe and Zia themselves!
— Inker