Good Times

They said he’d never make it.

They said he’d have to do it all by himself.

Fuck ’em. All of ’em.

If only they could see him now. Well, maybe not right at this moment, but just in general. He was Alex Fucking Karev and he was graduating from college next week. Not only was he graduating from college, he was on his way to med school. And they’d said he couldn’t do it. No, not Alex Karev. He’d never amount to anything. That’s what they’d said.

They said he wasn’t disciplined enough. They said all he thought about was girls and drinking. He laughed at that. If only they knew. But, yeah, the drinking was good. It didn’t stop him from making it though.

He knew they wouldn’t come. He knew there wasn’t going to be anyone in the crowd to cheer when his name was called. He didn’t care. Fuck ’em, right? He didn’t need them. Not one of them.

If they didn’t come, they sure as fuck had better not come to him when he was a rich and famous surgeon. He would be, you know. Rich and famous. Oh yeah, people would come from all around to have Alex Karev operate on them.

Why couldn’t they just be happy for him? Why couldn’t they be proud? The whoring around and the drinking weren’t the reason. They’d treated him this way all his life. Always. When he graduated Cum Laude from high school, they said he’d cheated his way through school. They never showed any pride in the fact that he always brought home good grades. They never said thank you when he gave them his paychecks. How many high school kids worked full time and gave all of the money to his family? How many? Not many at all.

Fuck ’em.

In junior high, they made him quit drama because he asked them to come to a play. In grade school, they wouldn’t let him join Scouts because they didn’t want to mess with having to take him to meetings.

Damn it. Why the hell didn’t they at least let him believe in Santa when he was little? Just a stocking wtih some fruit would have been nice. How many fights did he get into at school because kids teased him for not getting presents from Santa? Not just from Santa. He didn’t get presents at all.

Fuck ’em. He didn’t need them.

With a sigh, Alex rolled over and let his other cheek rest against the cool ground. Laying down on the grass had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he just didn’t feel like getting back up. He really needed to cut back on the booze. Who slept on wet grass? Pathetic, drunken college students, that’s who.

He really hoped they’d surprise him and show up for graduation.

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