July 14, 2014 by William K. Wolfrum
“Fuck you, Jughead! I watched Veronica die. I was there. And I watched her die. I watched her overdose and choke to death. I could have saved her. But I didn’t.”
Jughead staggered back. He looked shocked and hurt and confused. And I did not give a shit.
“Now it’s your turn, motherfucker,” I said, lunging at him.
Some explanation is in order. I was just a kid, man. Just a red-headed kid from Riverdale. From the outside, we were the perfect town. On the inside, so much darker. Take, Moose for example. By the way, did you know his name was Marmaduke Merton Matowski Mason? Seriously. What the fuck is up with that? Anyway, Moose is an All-City football star and everyone thinks he’s kinda slow but cool. In reality, he guzzles steroids like Tic-Tacs and goes up into the hills to slaughter helpless animals. dude is messed up. Seriously, someone needs to do something about him.
So, anyway, I’m Archie Andrews. And I was just a normal kid. Until Mr. Weatherbee decided to take me down. Well, decided to try and take me down. Because I learned something about myself. I don’t lose. Ever.
I was selling high-grade heroin out of the back of Reggie’s van. I had just sold a bag to two 11-year-olds I really didn’t give a fuck anymore. Reggie was blowing up my cell phone, but fuck him, with his hands all over Veronica, don’t think I didn’t see that.
Listen, I could have let Weatherbee suspend me for three days, all right? But that’s permanent record, shit. And I’m no one’s bitch. Especially not Weatherbee’s.
“Weatherbee’s dead,” I told Betty. She didn’t look shocked.
“Nothing you do surprises me anymore,” she said. “You’re a monster.”
Betty was right, but fuck her anyway. I had given her the best few weeks of my life. And when things get tough, she turns on me. Well, not this time.
“Listen, bit …,” I started, but was knocked back by Moose. My beautiful, loyal Moose. My beautiful, loyal, wrecked on steroids Moose. Who was now calling the police on me, his Archie. Fuck that. I grabbed the baby and ran.
My grip tightened as I saw the life drain from Jughead’s eyes. The final witness was dead. I was free. I took the briefcase with the $25 million inside. Vegas, bitchez.
I’m Archie Andrews. And I did it all for me.