MONDAY
“Getcho’ money up, na-CHO funny up!!” I roared as I threw an improvised projectile. The Bag of nachos majestically flew through the class…
“AAH-!”
Hoho, fucking BULLSEYE! RIght in his unsuspecting face, holy shit!
“Duuuuuuude, what the fuck?” laughed Milo as the bag flopped uselessly to the floor.
“‘Sup, bro? NaCHO lucky day or something?” Aw c’mon, with jokes like these, I’m just begging for a tomato in the face!
M seemed to perk up at yours truly! “Ayoooo— what’re you doing so early here, man?” Asked my really cool and really awesome brother-from-another-mother!
“Well, my dad’s gotten into his biweekly phases of being really bossy and wanted to do a meet-up with his pioneers really early in the morning. And since he’s my only ride to school, I had to get prepped up and early, too.”
“Ohhh, okok…” He gave me one of those smiles that said, ‘I DO want to understand you just said, but I didn’t, so I’m going to pretend otherwise…’
He also gave me THIS smooth topic transitioner: “Are you gonna open that bag or are you gonna hit me again?”
“Oh SHIT, for sure, for sure. You’re not supposed to eat prompts, but okey-dokey!” I pinch the seam, do a dramatic tear—
“Heeey, love~!” Said a syrupy voice at the door… Here comes the human leech… Oh, my bad, his ‘One true love,’ eugh…
Instead of violently barfing from all the cringe and sugariness this fucking minx produced, Milo not only matched her freak, but also surpassed it. “Raaaay~~!” Awwww, for fuck’s sake, of COURSE he does the puppy-voice…
As Raymond made the world’s funniest jokes with Milo, I was literally left holding the bag.
“I’ll just… give you some at break…”
I push through the front door. Not even a second in, Mom’s ultra instincts lock in on me.
“Hey, kiddo.”
'“Hey.”
“How was school?”
“It was alright.”
I take off my shoes, and I INSTANTLY rush for the stairs; otherwise—
“Hey, David?” Mom’s voice rises up and stops me in my tracks.
Dammiiiiit… “Yea, Mom?”
“You have a barber at 1:00 tomorrow. “She says.
I stop on the landing, then take a really deep breath, and then I turn my head to her. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going.” I may have said that with more lifelessness than necessary, but C’MOOON, man! On my day when I finish school early? Hell naw, that is SOME capital-grade BULLSHIT!!
And she even made the appointment without my consent or knowledge, fucking classic…
As I narrate this experience in my head, like I’m some nut, a loud *thunk* of a cabinet closing. Mom appeared at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banister with that look, the one that says, ‘Choose your battles carefully.’ “Your hair’s in your eyes.”
“Wha—” I could NOT believe her. “No, it’s not! It doesn’t even cover my forehead.”
“It’s wild, unkept and I hate how it looks.” She promptly said it, but just as the other times she deployed this tactic, it was still the biggest heap of shit served to me.
I really wanted to say in her face, “You hate everything.”
But I don’t.
I don’t because I’m a fucking idiot who feels bad afterwards and one that actually cares about being a good son. “Look, this quote-unquote ‘wild and unkempt’ is just the right look for me. It makes me who I am!”
*Clack—* something else in the kitchen slammed, then Dad slid into view with a cooking apron like he’s on Masterchef.
“You’re lots of things, David, but a hobo?” He said it with a smile and shook his head. “If you want to act like one, you’ll have to be homeless.”
Mmm, double-teaming and ultimates, my favorite… “Hey, Dad.”
“Yasso.” If anyone can get me out of the shit, it’s him. “Are you absolutely sure that you can’t find room in your heart not to send me to the barber?”
…
“David, I looked far and wide for you, but you’re outta luck, unfortunately.” He said, in mock-somber.
Uuuugh, FUCK!
Welp, time to fake it, then.
“Too bad, I guess. I’ve got plans, and Zeke’s time will be wasted, all cause’ you don’t wanna listen to me.”
“WHOA, back it up!” Said Dad, as he rushed toward the staircase. “Is it with a girl?”
Hmmmm…
“He’s obviously lying, Adri—”
“Put a sock in it.”
…
“It’s with Milo and some of his friends…” I said the most believable and most safe thing I could think of. Actually, let’s see if I can make that a reality!
I pop in my phone, and my fingers fire up the messages in two seconds.
You: ey milo bear
You: wanna hang out tomorrow?
You: got smth special to show u ;)))
Granted, I had jack shit in store, but that’s FUTURE Dave’s problem!
“There, see?” I show them the messages and PRAY that they don’t discover when I wrote them just now.
Uh-oh, Mom just folded her arms, she’s NOT buying it! “Where?”
“At the cafe,” I say. “The one next to school.”
“Which cafe? And who is coming with you and him?”
“Oh my God…” I grind my teeth. “Th-the one that’s two steps away! I don’t know its name, just that it’s really close. And as for who’s coming, I dunno. I dunno! I’ll figure it out by tomorrow.”
Mom said something in rebuttal, but I saw three dots appear under Milo’s name!
…
Holy shit, actually?!
…
They vanish.
Cool…
Once more, Mom’s instincts catch how my crescent smile turned upside-down, and then she hits me with this banger of a line. “Call him. I want to hear it straight from him that you’re going out.”
“Yeah, I’m not doing that.” My brain told me to say, ‘I would rather chew shit,’ but that’s not a thoughtful thing to say to your loved ones, so I keep it in me.
Dad’s voice came in a lot more serious than before. “We’re not rearranging for a pretend plan with a boy who forgets you exist when a girl walks in.”
Ahhhh, that’s just… ahh, right in the heart, shit… Thanks, coach.
*Bzzzz*
I did not dare DREAM!!
“Look, believe what you want about my best friend, say that he’s profiting and all that, but at the end of the day—!”
Milfo: ahhhh hell yeah
Milfo: sry pooky but Ray alr called it.
Milfo: raincheck for thursday?
Milfo: what’s up lol
…
You: all good, have fun
Delete tha’.
You: need to drop in
Nah, that’s just desperate…
…
You: Okok have fun
Mom watched my thumbs like… like… I dunno, with a lot of attention… “Well?”
*Siiiiiiiii…*
“Yeah, uhh… something came up and…”
…
“…Guess I’ll make it to that appointment, after all.” I said in complete and utter defeat.
Mom exhaled so hard that I thought she’d blow me away. “Thank you.”
Dad also did a joyful towel pop. “Attaboy!”
Well said, pops. Well said…
“…so when everything starts feeling like it’s copy-paste, that’s just your brain doing pattern recognition. Like, you feel like loops are prison… but they’re not. It’s just rhythm. You, me, everybody needs rhythm in their lives so that they don’t drown.”
“Uh-huuuh…”
“And you’re so fixed on high-school that you just keep missing the bigger picture. In a decade from now, all this will be a blur and nothing will matter. Hell, nothing really matters at the end of the day, but if you zone in on this stuff so much, you’ll just be miserable about it.”
Okay, that’s a really shrewd way of seeing things. I don’t want my entire life to be one giant blur…
“We’re not supposed to slay our demon. We’re supposed to live above them. You don’t swim an ocean by fluttering like a retard, no. You just learn to float better!”
“Yeah, but… I don’t want to just float; I wanna be a swimmer. I don’t want people to be shocked and awed when they see me busting out my sweet swimming moves; i just… *Sigh,* I want to swim with the others and not get left behind. Is that too much to ask?”
…there’s a little hiss on the line. Michael breathes down on his mike so hard that it’s like he’s defusing a bomb and not just chatting on Discord.
“Just… don’t grade yourself on their stats. You don’t need to be electric every second. Low-battery is still a battery.
From so many quotes from all the self-help books he devours, I just stare at the ceiling and say nothing. All this abstract talk just makes me feel even shittier. Does it actually help? Or is he trying to cope?
Either way, this was a good stopping point for the free TED talk. “Alright man, thanks for your input, appreciate it… do you wanna hop on Roblox? To just mess around, no rank and sweats, of course.” I left him a REALLY juicy bait, just in case I actually manage to convince him to hop on.
…
Silence.
His green circles flickers: “Ah— sorry bro, I should probably take a cold shower and then finish this reading, I’m so close to the end~!” He says giddily. “But next time, for sure.”
…
“Toats…” Not what I wanted to say, but it still works.
“You good?” Asked Michael, trying to see if he did catastrophic damage to me or not.
Well, he didn’t, so I didn’t need to act like he pumped and dumped me: “Yeah, bro, all is well in the universe.” I took a second to think and managed to say, “Better late than never, right?” I’m already nodding at my own screen like a bobblehead.
“Haha, yeah…”
…
“See you, bro.” Before I could say bye as well, the call noise went *blip* and i watched his icon pop outta existence.
“Okay THEN!” I open up Roblox and I hop on a Call of Duty ripoff game and let her RIP!
TUESDAY
“Sooooo…”
Hooo, boy…
Whenever Dad wanted to talk about something ‘serious,’ he always beats around the bush…
“What do you have to do today?”
Oh my God, see????
…I have absolutely no idea what he wants me to say, but I take a shot at it, anyway.
“Go to school?”
“Obviously.” He waits patiently for my follow-up, but I have nothing, and playing 20 questions doesn’t really help me remember.
*Sigh*
“We’re supposed to go to the barber at 1 o’clock.”
“Oh, that? Yeah, I already said I’m going.”
“Just making sure you don’t forget.”
“Kinda hard to do that when we’ve had a whole parade about it.”
Dad exhaled through his nose and gave me a small smile. "Hey, to me it looks like it’s you who’s forgetting who started it.” He says.
…
“I’m proud of you, for… you know. Following through with it.”
I look at the road ahead and say, “Yeah, how could I possibly refuse?”
The silence after those words pressed me so hard that I’m sure my subconscious turned into diamond.
As school stopped turning me into vegetable mush, the last bell shoes every fine man and woman of my generation.
And Raymond.
Anyway, I had some BUSINESS to take care off, real important stuff, more important then friendship or having a social life and that is to make my parents content…
“Alright, later Milo, later Mitch, later second David.”
“Bye.” “Bye David.” “See ya.”
“Aww, where you going, man?” Asked my brother-in-Christ, Emil Emillio himself.
I line it up a bit in my head so it doesn’t sound as lame as it actually is: “Wellllll, I’ve been tasked by Secret Services themselves with a task of utmost importance, to donate my threads to Azerbaijanians who suffer from acute baldness.” I say ALL that shit with a giant shit-eating grin.
Everyone smiles, and Robert laughs. JUST like that, Valhalla washes over me!
“Oh, so you’re cutting your hair?”
With those seven words spewed by Ray, I crash back down to earth…
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Then just say it, next time.” Raymond’s words make everybody’s smile drop to the ground.
How could God, in his omnipotence and coolness, create such an ugly, purple-headed, UGLY hellspawn? Also, did I mention she’s ugly?
*BZZT*
Oh my Lord, thank you for the random weather notification! “Okay guys, I really need to go now; it looks like—”
Dad: Can you move it, move it and say goodbye to your friends?
“What the fuck?” I said, a little too loud and bewildered, which prompts Mitch to look up at my phone and read the text.
His eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth lifted. “‘Can you move it, move it?’ Duuuuude… Does your dad actually speak like that?”
“Awww, that’s so cute~!” The hellspawn also chimmed in.
“Uuumm…” I didn’t really wanna answer that, so instead, I went to search for him and the place he’s sulking in.
*HONK HOOONK*
Everyone on the curb turned their head, all at once, like some sort of hive-minded entity took hold of them…
*BZZT*
Dad: I’m literally parked in the BUS LANE!!!
And JUST LIKE THAT, the dirt and blindness in my eyes were both cured and cleaned, and I could finally see my father in the family mobile.
It seemed like he came with the red SUV that has its nose yellow. By the grace of Allah, it looks to be Ronnie Mcdonald’s whip…
“Okay y’all, stay hydrated…” I start power-waking towards the car and trying my best not to hear the laughs and chortles from behind…
*clack* “Hey, dad…” Would it be rude to ask why I couldn’t just order an Uber and why he has to chaperone me?
“Yo! How was school?”
If only I could exhale with my mind…
“Fine."
“Took your sweet ass time, didn’t you?” he said with that dumb smile of his.
“Well, yeah. You didn’t text me you were coming to pick me up, so… yeah…”
“Welp, change is the spice of life, so surprise!” Pretty sure that’s variety, but oh well.
“So you’re getting shaved, too?” I asked as I buckled in.
“More liiiike… watching the kung-fu master at work. Ki-yaw!”
…
*tick-tick-tick-tick…*
“Don’t pout.” He says, without even looking at me. For the record, I wasn’t pouting, just processing the part that an 18-year-old still gets treated like a toddler.
“We’ll be in and out. And you can go back to your boyfriend.”
Holy fucking SHIT!!!!
“Do you like it?” Asked Zeke, as he showed me in the mirror.
In the glass, all I could see was a stranger wearing a David cosplay. “Yeah. Yeah, it looks really clean.” Translation: Did not fuck with it…
“It’s a low taper.” Said Zeke, proud of himself. “Kept the weight up top, just like you wanted.” Said Zeke, who looked like he frequently visits betting houses…
Dad materializes in the mirror over my shoulder and gives his two cents. “Now that’s sharp. I dare say you even look really cool!”
No, I look like a bootleg version of Ken.
“Super clean.” I say again, because there is genuinely nothing good to say about this haircut. At least in my eyes.
“You want a little product to keep in place?” Zeke asks.
In what place, witness protection? “Nah, I’m good, thank you.”
At least I don’t have to pay for… it. But seeing my dad pay almost TRIPLE for something that looks like modern art, in a bad way, is just SO… so… revolting, ugh…
‘Be generous and people will treat you like a king.’ Dad’s sayings are like communism. It looks nice on paper, but when it comes to executing…
I get off the chair and start rubbing my nape. “Nice, nice…”
Dad claps a hand on my shoulder. “You look wiser, too.” Ok, NOW he’s blowing smoke up my ass, holy fuck…
Speaking of smoke…
I look like a youth pastor who vapes in the parking lot.
“What do we say to Zeke?” Said Dad, with a straight face.
I looked at the ceiling for a good second. ‘God? Can you give me an aneurysm? I’d like to just… pass out. Sorry if wishing bad things upon me is sinful, but i am just at my wit’s end…’
As the prayer went unanswered, I murmured like a weak little bitch: “Thank you…” Oh Jesus, small wonder you get treated like a baby…
…As we walk out of Fresh Cuts with a Z at the end, I catch one more glance of myself and the creature on top.
‘Default Character Template.’ Ok, I finally got it out of my system, hopefully.
“Feels lighter, right?” Said Pops, in hopes of making some small talk and setting my mood back to happy.
“Oh yeah, super light.” I respond. “Careful, or I may just float away.” I know Dad’s laughing at my joke, but it sure as shit felt like he was laughing at the hairstyle.
Dad checked his phone and said with so much misplaced happiness, “Your mother says ‘Handsome’ with three exclamation points.” He turns the screen so I can see the proof, like I didn’t take his words at face-value nor that Mom could express so much emotion digitally.
As we cross the streets towards the car, I see some middle-graders with the exact hairstyle. They all laugh as one of them pulls out from their bag a plush of a shark wearing sneakers.
…
*BZZT*
“Huh?” Oops, I blanked too hard. I check up my phone, hoping that it’s not Milo with a rescheduling text…
Dad: Kung-fu masters did it well, followed by a biceps and that red and blue spinning thing.
I look back at Dad, in hopes of trying to figure out what he’s trying to accomplish here.
Then I return to the screen to give him a thumbs-up. But then—
Dad: Want to grab a soda?
Dad: To celebrate you becoming a man.
. . .
You: Sure, why not?
Aw man, this is WAY too fancy for getting a haircut…
The place has white tablecloths and really fancy silverware, and the plants look exotic and vaguely toxic.
“Table for two?” Asked the host
“Yes, thanks.” Said Dad, as he checked his phones for mail.
We get led through a jungle of whispering couples and half-finished wine glasses.
…
Time jumps ahead, and a waiter is already taking my dad’s order.
“Sparkling water,” Dad tells the server without looking up. “Cold".
He flicks me a look. “And you?”
“Uh… soda?”
The waiter blinked and threw me a confused look. “Cola.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Cola’s great."
The waiter looks satisfied then leaves
…
Dad’s phone keeps pinging and pinging. I lean over the table a teeny tiny bit and manage to catch some words: Q4 margin, Deck v7, Liquidate blah-blah-blah… If only he discovered TikTok… that would probably be the last nail in his sanity.
The server returns with a bottle of sparkling water and my cola arrives in a crystal glass with a lemon. How fancy…
Dad glances up, finally, and raises his glass in the air. He smiles as he says out loud: “To becoming a man.”
Jesus Christ…
“Cheers.”
*clink*
WEDNESDAY
“Have a good one!” Says Dad as he leaves me on the curb
“Yep.”
I peel off before the doors and cut across the wet sidewalk to the corner shop with a busted OPEN sign. The wall kids are already planted and seem to just chill around.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Time to show off my people skills!
“Yo, got a light?” I ask the nearest kid.
One of them hands it over without eye contact. No joke, no small talk, just… object transfer.
“Thanks.” I say. Nothing.
I step arounfd the alley edge where the humming wind doesn’t blow that hard, with one earbud in so I don’t get Manslaugher’d
*Ffffhhh…*
…
“Haah…” The small cloud of smoke rises up in the air to become one with the actual clouds or die trying.
I go back to the group and hand the lighter back to the kid. “Appreciate it.”
“Mhmm.” He 'says.'
…
Laughter pops from the wall kids. I guess I’ll just scoot over that way… right next to the dumpster, perfect.
There’s a crooked NO LOITERING sign above the dumpster. I look from behind, and once I assess it’s clear, I flip the sign off and say, “Cain’t tell me what to do, biatch.” I put my other earbud in and turn up the volume.
Inside the school, every surface is so polished that I can easily make out my reflection wherever he goes. It’s like he’s in a mirror house from hell…
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I pass by Milo and Raymond, with their fingers linked. I try to approach the two with some joke, but with the calming and sterilizing effects of tobacco, I have no idea what to say.
I abandon the idea and pull out the ol’ and reliable. “Morning.”
“Hey, David.” “Hello.”
They went east and I went west.
Wait, I’m in the same class with M, where the fuck was I even going?
Huuuuuh, home sweet home…
I take off my sneakers and I slide into the living room, straight for the stairs.
“David!” “WHOA, shit…!” Death by falling down the stairs… Not the greatest way to go out, but I’ve read worse. “Oh, hey Dad, sorry, didn’t know you were down here.”
He stepped from the shadows like a ninja. “Oh, no worries, I just got back from work. How was school?”
“Fine.” The classic. The word-saver. The all-time great.
“Come here a sec.” He says, stepping closer and closer to me. “Let me look at you.”
What, another inspection? How much ‘cooler’ and ‘older’ can one person get?
*sniff*
Wait, did he just—
“Why do you smell like smoke?”
UH-OH!!! How the FUCK does he know?! It’s been almost 7 hours since I smoked that shit!!
Alright, CALM THE FUCK DOWN!! He doesn’t actually smell anything; it’s just a test…
Or maybe one of his HUNDREDS of connections passed by and snapped a photo with me and a ciggie in my mouth—
No, no, you’re ‘hitting the fields,’ as Grandpa likes to say. Just play it cool…
And I do! By keeping my chin up and eyes bored. “I don’t smell anything.”
Dad does not like the answer, if the squinting he’s making is any clue to go by.
“It’s strong,” he says. “Like you’re standing in it…”
Oh, FUCK OFFFFFFF!!! It was one cig, ONE!! Fuck’s saaaaake…
Yeah, APPARENTLY, on top of leading the double life of man by day and a ninja by night, he’s also part Bloodhound. Cool, cool, coooool…
“Maybe I just passed someone who was smoking; i dunno what to say, man.”
“Hmmmm…” Alright, we can work with it. All we need to do is land this plane, without crashing it…
“OH waaaaait…!” I say as the realization conveniently dawns on me. “Ok, so! After school me and Milo hang outside for a bit. But this guy, Mitch, also hangs out with us. Guy smokes like a chimney and I get secondhanded.”
Dad’s mouth turns into a thin line. “Mitch.”
“Yeah, Mitch,” I repeat.
“I never heard about a 'Mitch’ before.” He says it in an accusatory tone, but he’s right about that.
“Yeah, I don’t like him. He’s just a groupie that hangs with us.”
“‘Us,’ as in you and Milo or just Milo?”
…
“…Yeah, just him.”
Dad chews it over and it looks like the gears really are turning in his brain. “Alright. Go wash your uniform; I don’t want my house to smell like a bum.” Phew, that was a close one…
“Ok, Dad.” As I go—
“And listen.” Hooo boy, here it comes. “If I ever catch you smoking, I’ll break your teeth.”
“…That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”
He snorts and leads it up with: “Kidding~! Mostly. Seriously, don’t bring that crap into your lungs.”
“Got it.” I say. “No crap in my lungs or clothes. We are crap-free, henceforth.”
“Good men. We’re having dinner at six; don’t be late.” He turned back to the living room to ambush some more people in the dark.
“Yessir, roger sir.” I say, mostly to myself.
…
Once in my room, I bring the collar of my shirt up close.
I don’t smell anything.
THURSDAY
* ptoo—tsshhhhh. *
“Ahhh, is this mint toothpaste laced or what?” I say to mirror David, and not just because I feel in a talkative mood, but genuinely, I feel fine!
Hell, I feel SO fine that I’ll make up a tune! “Ba-da, ba-da-da, boop boop, doo doo doop, hey HEY!” A snap here, a twist of the hips there…
“Goooood morning, family~!” I announce it like I’m a Disney princess. Shit, maybe I did turn into one while sleeping.
“Yasso!” Says Dad, completely infected by my gleefulness. “Someone woke up with a twinkle in their eye.”
“Aw man, this dude’s always cracking jokes. Bring it here, top dawg!” I step up and wrap him up. He’s warm and smells like really expensive perfume, mixed with a ton of Old Spice. Naturally, he squeezes back and it. Is. NOT. Awkward!
“Look at you.” He whispers in my ear, pleased in a way that doesn’t ask anything from me. “What’s the occasion?”
“The toothpaste tasted really minty!” I say into his shirt.
He laughs and says: “I’ll take it!”
“Take two!” I say and go for the dumbest chest bump known to man. I almost knock my dad over, but then he cathes ON and does a boxer shuffle like he’s white Mohamed Ali!
“C’mon, put ‘em up, put ‘em up!!” I do a lil’ shadowboxing as well!
Dad drops into this goofy stance that looks straight up from WWE. “Protect your chin, chump!” He says, patting the air in my face.
I give him a JAB! In slooooooow mooootion. He PERFECTLY sells it with him stumbling and looking hurt, with HIS slow-mo.
“Ohhh, cheap shot!” He hunches back and starts wheezing really hard. It looks like he went from world-renowned boxer to… a fat guy.
But before Dad can mimic a heart attack, we hear Mom coming down the stairs. Her face is… well, definitely not Disney…
“Morning!” we say in stereo, but mom just sits at the table in absolute silence…
…
…
The heat is really on our back, so we follow suit by doing the same and eating our breakfast. Mom’s just staring down at an empty plate, for some unexplainable reason.
“David.” Uh-oh, that can’t be good…
“Y-yes, mother dearest?”
“You didn’t make the bed this morning.”
…
Oh.
That’s it?
That’s the crisis?
That’s why she brought the mood down??
“Nuh-uh!” I rebuke her. “I did do my bed! Right before I brushed my teeth! Just after I showered and shaved.”
“You just threw the blanket over it.” She deadpanned. “I had to make your bed, David. Again.”
…
Dad saw where this was headed, so he lifted a hand up. “Okay, he’s sorry and promises he’ll fix it tomorrow. Now let’s just have a nice breakfast.”
…But it looked like Mom had her ears filled with shit, because she kept going. “I’m not your maid. I don’t have to wrinkle my outfit because you’re too lazy to do anything, yet I do.”
…
“I am NOT going to keep making your bed when you’re thirty! I am not going to pick your clothes for work or, God forbid, for school.”
“What’s that—”
“I always hear how my friend’s sons and daughters get straight 10’s. Those goddamn clerks keep pratling on how they’re sooo proud of them… why can’t I say the same for you? Why do I have to keep telling them ‘congrats’?
Dad tried to put a stop to it once more: “Okay, that’s enough.”
But she doesn’t stop… It’s like she’s possessed. “I’m serious!” She brings it up a notch. “I WANT you to grow up already, David, but it’s like you’re spitting on me! I ask you to do small things, and you half-do them. I ask you again, and suddenly I’m nagging you.
“OKAY, I get it.” I force myself not to yell at her… “I promise I’ll do better, so stop…” ‘being such a massive bitch…’
“What was that?” Aw shit, I didn’t actually say that, did I?
“Aw okay, so you’re just talking to yourself again, aren’t you? You’ll just be with your head in the clouds, and letting the world pass you by…”
“I said enough, Nicole.”
But she just doesn’t. She keeps running her fucking painted lips, just so she can hear herself. "Your cousin sends a photo of his room every morning to his mother. I don’t want that from you; I just wish you could be more grounded. Sometimes, when I look at you…” Her voice started breaking a little. “I am terrified for you. I am terrified for the life you’ll lead… I am terrified that I failed in raising you up…” She full on started tearing up at the table…
…
“You think I enjoy this? I am tired of repeating to you, over and over, the most basic of things. I just want to get it through that thick skull of yours…”
"I think he heard you enough.” Dad’s voice dropped in.
Mom doubles down on her methods of ‘helping’ by saying: “He doesn’t listen unless I say it like this!”
“And how’s that working out?!”
“At least I’m not pretending he’s ‘doing his best’!!”
“I’m not pretending anything—!”
“You always smooth it over!!”
“And you’re fucking crazy for belittling him about a corner.”
“It’s NOT about the bed!!”
“It’s always something in your fucked-up brain…”
“…”
“…!”
I put my earbuds in.
“Sunshine… Sunshine Reggae. Let the good vibes… get ‘a lot stronger.”
I wordlessly pick up my bag and get up from the table.
…
*thunk*
*click*
*brrrrm…*
…
…
“Those fucking bed corners, am I right or am I right?” Says Dad, in hopes of rekindling what we had at breakfast.”
“Yeah.”
But the spark is gone. The twinkle, killed by a cartel, yakuza, Mafiosos and whatever criminal undergrounds left…
. . .
“Hey. Earth to David.” I hear Milo and some snapping of fingers. “Dude, are you pulling some sort of prank on me?”
Blink-blink-blink.
“Milf-hunter?” I say. “The hell are you doing in my car?”
Milo squints at me. “Are you fucking high?” He says it like he’s hoping for it. As if I’m sharing my non-existent Perks with his bitch-ass!
But before I could say just that, I noticed that I’m not in the ‘my’ car but outside of it and in a park. The sun is in ‘leaving soon’ mode.
“Uhhhhh… M? You’re not gonna believe this, but…” I finally look at his cutie-patootie face and muster all my seriousness in the next words flowing out of my mouth: “I just did a JoJo reference!”
In response to doing one of the coolest things ever, he said: “Bro, your entire life is a Jojo reference.”
“No, bro, like… for real. I literally do a hard cut! I was at—”my brain flips through folders, empty-empty-empty… “I was somewhere; something happened, then BAM!! You’re here, I’m here, it’s noon, and just like that my whole day is just… gone.”
Milo leaned back and went into a thinker’s pose. “So you, what, ZA WARUDO it all?”
“More like King Crimson on steroids.” Skipping 7, maybe more, hours does have something to do with drugs… “Holy shit, I just skipped an entire day.
Milo shrugs and smiles at me. “Eh, if only you’d erase yourself.”
“Wow, first up, what a fucking nice guy.” And then I go low in the knees and say: “Second, SOMALIAN SHANK!!” I DIVE IN and go for the his belly and sides, all in rapid-fire!!
“BWAHAHA—FUCK—DUHUHUDE!! STOP!!” Milo, overtaken by joy and laughter, CANNOT resist the power of the Somalian Shank!! For it makes anybody who touches it EXPLODE. “DAVID!! STOAHAHAP!!”
“SUBMIT TO MY AWESOME POWERS!!” I chant while jabbing him with the power and speed of a sewing machine!!
“People!” he wheezes. “There’s—haha—PEOPLE!!”
“OH SHIT!!” I immediately turn this automated battering ram and immediately turn back to face the witnesses.
I also find out that our bromance isn’t exposed to anybody but a swarm of geese.
“C’MERE, you fucking bitch!” Says Milo from behind, and he placed his hands on my throat
I’ve been outplayed!! “NAAAAAAY!”
He hauls my ass backwards, and I almost fall down. He goes even MORE automatic on my ass and just tickle-scratches at my neck, which is kind of harsh, but his methods are really effective!
“NO— TH-THAT’S BULLSHIT!! REEEEF!! DO SOMETHING, REF!!” I squeak and beg, but I am at the mercy of a madman! He laughs in my ear and then proceeds to say: “Say uncle!”
“Oh fuck, uncle…!”
“I can’t hear you, maggot!”
“OH GOD, UNCLE! UNCLE! UNCLE GRANDPA!!”
This motherFUCK cackles and doesn’t STOP, but instead, he doubles down!! He switches sides like a professional rapist, peppering my ribs and tummy.
“FUCK YOU, EMILIOOOOOO!!!!!!”
~ 5 minutes later ~
“Ha—haa—okaaay…” I try my darnest to get up from the ground, but my body is still photosynthesizing… “Truce. I’m—huh—dead.”
Milo managed to stay up on his feet, but only barely, if his hands on his knees and heaving chest count as signs of fatigue.
“You—*huff*—started it.” He tries to straighten up, but it looks like he’s also in need of a breather or twenty. “Bro, you scream—huh-huh—like a little bitch.” He laughs at his own joke.
“Fuuuuck you.”
“Take the L, lil’ bro.”
“How ‘bout YOU take the D, right in the mouth?”
“WHAT WAS THAT?!?” “UNCLE! Uncleuncleuncleeeee…!!”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t diss the master, biatch.”
“Whatever you say, Ray of my life.”
In response, Milo just flips me off.
…
I finally manage to muster some strength in my legs and the both of us manage to crawl our way to the bench…
“By the way, bro-” I finally break the exhausted silence. “—You are so fucking gay!”
“WHAT?!”
“Think about it! You fucking push me to the ground, and I see in your eyes a hunger for booty, MY BOOTY!! And your pent-up homoness doesn’t even ask; instead, it tickles me into submission, and I can’t fight back or SAY no, ‘cuz your rainbow aura leaks and starts merging with mine!!”
“Fuck offff!” He shoos me and the gay thoughts away. “You wish you could go out with me.”
“You wish I WISHED!”
“It's your fantasy, bruh.”
“Kinda hard to make it look fake when IT JUST HAPPENED!!”
“No way you're calling ME gay when you do the same shit!” As Milo yaps me up, a sudden thought hits me like a train.
“AWWWWW, DUDE!!!” I spasm out from the cringeness. “You're dating a Raymond, oh my GOOOOOD!!"
His goofy smile and care-free attitude INSTANTLY disappear! He tries to morph his face into an uncaring one, but it fails. “What? Naaaaah…”
“You so totally are!!” I say while I give him the Phoenix Lawyer finger. “Ray-mond. Ray. Mond… Does HE not have colorful hair? Did you not CONFIDE in me that you want a pink streak? Do you realize that he’s super into laughing at all your jokes, even the ones that are made for toddlers?” Ok, last thing was more of a not-so-fun fact, but it STILL STANDS in the great jury of things! Somehow.
“Also, ever notice the gay guys in Raymond’s class always laugh a lil’ too hard at your jokes?”
Milo can’t help but be silent and stare at me. I’d be shocked if someone painted such a clear picture of me, too!
“That is SO much FUCKING bullshit!’’ Okay, maybe not that shocked…
“Sorry bro, but the evidence is STACKED on you! This bitch is more airtight than that sub that exploded.”
“It’s a heap of shit, is what it is.” He brought his fingers up in my face. “Alright, #1! Half the girls in our high-school have their hair dyed.”
“Yeah, but not in unicorn puke.” I said in a cool matter.
Milo loses his train of thought, as he said: “Unicorn puke is such a vibe though.
“Yeah, for Lisa Frank wannabes…”
“Okay, fuck, whatever, Number 2! You were the one drooling over the pink streak and you were like, ‘Oh man, girls are totally gonna score with us.’”
“Emilio, did you go full retard on me? Or are you ACTUALLY trying the gaslight maneuver?”
“I’m not lying to you, fuckshit! You showed me this reel about some K-Pop stuff, then said you wanted their ‘Neon Destiny’ shtick.
Uh-oh, that does sound vaguely familiar…
“You’re so full of shit…” Can’t let broski know, though…
“Aww, what’s the matter? Is the evidence ‘airtight’?” he says, as he flashes me a shark’s grin.
We glare. We smirk. Then we just laugh it off.
I tap the bench with two fingers to get his attention. “I like how you didn’t fight me on the third allegation.”
He blinks. “Which was…?”
“That all her friends laugh at your stinkiest of jokes.”
Milo looks off at the path riddled with leaves. He chews his cheek, then shrugs. “Okay, fine. Some of the guys do do that. I think they’re… kinda into me?” He says it like he’s admitting to murder or something.
“Ha. Called it.” I rest my case; Milo is a certified boy-lover. I don’t rub it in, though, because I’m cool and nice like that.
Milo ignores what I said and kept in going. “But I dunno why they act like that! I barely hang out with them and they know I’m taken by Ray.”
“You don’t, but I do.”
Milo gives me the side-eye. “Enlighten me, Sherlock.”
“It’s 4D chess against me and your other friends!” I rise from the bench. “Ever since she got in your really good graces, she can’t help but want ALL of your attention. So she tries underhanded WAR tactics to divide ALL your friends and conquer your shlong.”
"That one."
“Believe it. Anyway, just last week, I passed by you and her devout followers. Yada-yada-yada, I crack a joke and nobody laughs. You did, but only a little.”
Milo just looks up at the sky. “I don’t remember, to be honest… Maybe your bit was hella mid?”
“Oh, puh-lease, don’t make excuses for ‘em. I remember Ray gripping her stomach when you did that shitty ‘Got your eyeliner’ joke.”
“Mmm.” Translation: “Yeah, true…”
…
“Look, I’m not telling you to drop her and her boy band.” Though that would be so sweet. “Just don’t forget to shoot us a text from time to time. And when you do, don’t make it seem like it’s the last thing you wanna do…”
…
He stares at me for a good second, then says: “You’re solid, dude. Like… you’re actually the best.”
“Aw shucks.” I say as I grab my cheeks. “You’re making me blush!”
FRIDAY
You: Top of the morning lads.
You: Y’all wanna go to the mall after school?
You: Fries and arcade, my treat.
…
…
After 10 minutes, the bubble with dots pops up. Woah, ok! Houston, we have a solution! Eugh, good shit, he said that to himself, under the sheets.
SD: ya
Mitchells: maybe. got practive 2day, I think. idk.
Milo hearts the ‘my treat’ text, then nothing. Raymond smoothly inserts herself in the DMs by dropping a random cat gif, just to remind us how quirky she can be…
Anyway, beside that, shit looks real smooth!
It kinda sorta looks like yesterday’s talk didn’t go past M’s ears, sweet!
Maybe shit can change for the best…
“Mmmh…” My nose is just gonna peel off at some point…
Dammit, can’t they get a refresher or something in the gym? It always smells like rubber bands and sweat in here.
“Oh-oh! I wanna be keeper!” No one really wants the shitty jobs, but what the hell, SOMEONE needs to make sure we don’t lose!
Amiright lads or amiright lads?
No? Nobody?
*PREEee!*
The enemy team managed to win the coin toss, so I need to be extra careful, otherwise—
OH SHIT, the ball!! I HURL for that bitch, but it was all for naught, cuz the ball managed to go past me…
“Unlucky…” Someone says from the branches.
“Great start, dumbass…”
ONE MINUTE IN AND I’M ALREADY RUINING OUR ATHLETIC CAREERS!!!
My brain tries to convince me that this is all part of an elaborate scheme, the ol’ ‘lull them into a false sense of security.’
Yeah, fine work 007…
My shirt is only like 30% drenched, so CLEARLY I’m not trying yet. That, or I should just quit smoking.
Man, if they ever did a documentary about my gym class, they’d need a parental warning AND one of those splash zone signs…
The next ball comes at me like a heat-seeking missile, and I try to catch it, but my hands instinctively fold in this praying mantis pose. It glances off my fingers and ricochets into poor Jeff who didn’t really wanna play, so he decided to be defensive.
Jeff crumples like a folding chair and spurts a red line…
Everybody gasps…
*PREEEE!* “Hold!” Coach power-walked to the Jeff and managed him like he was landing an airplane… “Pinch it, Jeff! Keep your head forward, not back. Breathe.”
“I’m sorry, dude!” I blurt under my breath…
With watery eyes, Jeff manages to say: “It’s… fine.”
Oh my God, what the hell did I just do…?
I just… I just waned to get through gym class…
…
Coach shoots me a look that’s less mean and more ‘let’s make a different choice.’ “Alright, let’s switch it up, team!”
Don’t have to tell me twice…
…
…
…
What’s the time again?
17:20… Okay…?
Early bird gets… jack shit, apparently. The food court smells like fries and bleach, with a tinge of ass.
…
You: Hey
You: we still going out?
…
Nothing.
I stare at the typing field until I get bored of looking at my reflection.
…
Ah, screw it.
“Hi, i’d like some fries, please”
“Small, regular or large?”
“Regular.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
The cashier taps like ten buttons for one potato in strips. “That’ll be 2 dollars. Cash or card?”
“Card.”
…
“We’ll call you by number.”
“Okay.”
I slide up to an empty booth and flop. My phone says it’s 17:22, meaning not even the slowest IMEI in Fujian has had time to double-check me. I set it face down, like maybe I’ll behave and even LEARN to ignore it.
I scan the food court for alternate amusments. There’s a kid stacking ketchup packets into a Jenga tower. His mom scrolls endlessly on her device. I consider doing the same, but then I remembered that I LITERALLY placed the phone down, just to NOT do that…
What else, what else…
…
Oh, wow…
The mall is… not dead, but like, terminally ill. Everything smells like someone mopped a crime scene with Mountain Dew.
…
“TWENTY-EIGHT!!”
Okay, that HAS to be at least half an hour of waiting time!
17:24
Goddamnit.
*BZZT*
Oh my God, finally.
Milfo: eyo
Milfo: sry it took me so long to write bak
Milfo: caint make it, have some cousin thing on hand.
Milfo: rain check?
. . .
You: yea
. . .
On my way out, I check my messages once more, because I’m a fucking retard, and whaddya know?
Nothin’
I put the phone in my backpack before I smash it…
SATURDAY
*Digital Silence, by Peter McPoland.*
“Di—digital start, digital end, digital birth, digital DEATH…!
This is the answer / TO the question.
This is the sound of… the TRUTH.
This is the answer to the question…
There is nothing you can dooaAAGH!!”
I do this lil’ twirl and Dad’s just behind, watching me like some Peeping Tom. How long was he standing in the MIDDLE of my room?
He lifts an eyebrow and says: “Yo, Mariah Carey, you gonna grace us with your presence at breakfast?”
My ears, cheeks and whatever else turns hot n’ red…
“Y-yeah… I’ll see you downstairs.”
“Thankssss, you’re a sweet!” He says as he leaves my room.
…
I kill the volume and shove my phone in my pocket—
*clank*
—aaaaand i have no pants…
I lean in and try not to spook her. “Hey Grandma!”
Grandma blinks at me. “Danny?”
“It’s David, Grandma.”
“Ohhh, right…” She pats my cheek. “How did you get so handsome?”
Grandpa wheels closer to me and says. “Ey champ! How’s school?”
“Fine.”
He gives me a no-nonsense look. “Not an answer. What’d you eat today?”
“Like… some eggs and bacon?”
“Eat something with less grease and more greens before Sunday. Some cucumbers wouldn’t kill you.”
“Roger-roger.” I sit on the edge of the bed. “Cucumbers it is.”
He grunts in satisfaction and moves on to the crossword jammed up to his untouched pudding cup.
“So Davey…” Grandma whispers and grabs my hands in a scary grip, all bones and translucent skin… “What’s going on with that tall girl who drives you to the movies?”
“Ummmm…” Am I supposed to play along with a person’s dementia? Doesn’t that scramble with their brains even further? Or does that put them in a calmer mood, where they can remember …?
“…Her name’s Ashley. She’s just, like… a friend. Sometimes we get food after track practice.” Why did I feel the need to add that?
“No such thing as ‘just a friend’ at your age.” Grandpa mutters, scrawling EDGE in all caps across tiny blue squares. “You got the hormones! Don’t lie.”
“Yeah, I guess you got me there…”
I pry open his pudding and slide it closer to him. He pretends not to notice it but then eats a spoonful.
Grandma squeezes my hands again. “Ashley’s a nice name,” she says. "Does she go to church? Or is she one of those sluts that doesn’t believe in the Holy Spirit?”
“She sure does believe, Grandma!” I say in an octave higher than it should be… “She sure does…”
*BZZT*
I check my notifications and see that it’s from… Mom.
Mom: Hey, I’m at the front entrance.
“Mom’s outside. ” I tell them.
“Well, what are you telling us for? Bring her in!” Grandpa said.
…
Two minutes later, I come in tow with Mom, who looks really happy to see her parents! “Look at you three!” She steps in and kisses Grandma’s and grandpa’s temples, then squeezes my shoulder…
“How are you all feeling?”
“We’re alright, darling.” Said grandpa as he gave me a devilish look. “David was just telling us about his lady friend.”
Awwwww , nooooo…
Mom is delighted about this new piece of news… “REALLY?!?” She screeched. “First time i heard ANYTHING about this…”
“It’s… not a thing. ” If bullshit got you in, then it can sure as hell get you out… just keep it dry and boring. “She’s just someone I know and she did give me a drive, but there were lots of other people, too.”
“Meh, give it some time and she’ll be it, I can feel it!”
“Y-yeah, totally.”
…
After a little bit, Mom hits all three of us with THIS banger of a suggestion: “Okay, everyone!” She claps her hands. “Let’s do a group photo!”
Before anybody could say anything, Mom was already reaching for her phone and directing us. “Dad, scoot an inch to the right. Mom, put that lock of hair behind your ear. David, show me a smile.”
Yes, master…
My grandparents submit to the dictatorship and mom hooks an arm around my neck and leans in.
“Three, two—”
*Click*
“Again,” she deadpans. “David, stop looking like you’re at a funeral.”
What the fuck does she meeeeean????
“Smile~!”
“All who oppose me… beware.”
“Haha, you tell ‘em Oppenheimer.”
It’s crazy how good video games were back then. It’s crazier still that nobody managed to capture the essence of the Necromancer quite like Diablo 2~~!
Hell, it was such a ‘lightning-in-a-bottle’ that even the boys at Blizzard couldn’t replicate the magic. The wonder of it all. The simplicity which is so out of reach for practically everybody, even themselves…
“I sense… death within this place.”
“‘Course you do, you’re literally surrounded by… 3 shades of it.” I say to my silly-billy of a Necromancer.
I promised myself that I would play, THIS TIME, as a Bone Mage and only with Bone Spear, hence the name, but the urge to build a platoon of boners came in TWICE as powerful, so here we are! Again!!
So yeah, I suppose I’ll choke the screen for the umpteenth time in bones IF Jesus and God both give me a sign. Otherwise, I guess I’ll give the Spear build a run for its money.
But if doesn’t live to the hype…
“White screen, white screen, white screen~~~!!”
Dad pokes his head in and says something, but I was in the middle of something here. “Totally, Pop-Pop, totally.” Much like my Skeletons, I’m also completely brainless and on pilot mode. He’s learned that it’s best to just sigh and back away when playing THIS marvel of a game. I can’t really blame him— I look positively ghastly in this light and, once again, I am completely brainless.
…
“All this for a hammer?”
Slow your roll, bud! This is SUPER important and not just because you can start buying better shit, nay.
THIS!
Is where the Bone Spear Playthrough is, as the kids say, ‘make or break.’ That sounded way better in my head, but oh well!!
…
Alright, for all the marbles, Bone Spear…
…
[Wand of Reanimation +3]
- Adds +3 Skeleton Warrior slots.
“WHOAAAAAAH—!”
“DAVID!!!” Dad SLAMMED the door and almost tore the door of the hinges…
“SORRY, sorry…” I say in a really apologetic manner. “Please don’t hit the breakers, I won’t do anything like that ever again. please forgive me…” If I go to bed, all ‘cause of my monkey brain, i swear on everything that is holy, i’ll perform a lobotomy on myself…
Dad didn’t really look convinced, but he still slithered away into the darkness and WITHOUT making a quip or saying shit like ‘I’ll put you through that fucking wall’. Again, could hardly blame the man; it was past midnight, after all…
But this… The holiest of grails, the calibers of the exes, the pot of gold at the rainbow’s end…
Message received, loud and fucking clear~!!
Not only am I keeping me hands away from Bone Spear, but we’re pulling an all-nighter, just like the good days~~!!
“Ahh, the slow torture of caged starvation.”
SUNDAY
“Extra-virgin or light?” Asked mom
Huh?
What the hell… How did we get to the grocery shop? Aw shit, I did ANOTHER refrence, oh Jesus…
Dad looks at the olive oils and with a firm tone, he says: “It’s all a scam, anyway. Let’s just get the store brand.”
“Eugh, store brand tastes like candle wax, though.”
“Yes, it does, honey. Do you know why it tastes a little bad? It’s ‘cuz it’s not laced with food coloring or other fake crap that gives it ‘taste.’
I am not sure what food coloring is supposed to taste like, but Pops knows it all.
He loves to sound like the world’s foremost expert on all things bio-oriented. He also takes a bottle of Safeway Select and brings it to his nose. “Mmm…” he says. “Smells like Mediterranean labor and high profit margins.” Once again, Dad showed me who I got all the quirkiness from.
Mom fakes a gasp and fans herself with the shopping list. “My, my, a connoisseur. Next you’ll be telling me the correct way to salt water for boiling pasta.”
I push the cart past the oils and aim the cart for the only aisle that matters. “Hey— can i grab some Cinny Minis?”
“We have cereal at home.” Mom said, eyes still glued to the list.
“Mmm, I don’t think that we do?” Unless that vile, seedy shit counts… “Plus! It’s two-fifty! It’s practically a steal!”
“Fine, put it in…” Mom said, without looking at me, already drifting towards the yogurt. I set it in the cart at the front, away from the chicken.
…
Ok, after that whole INTERESTING and definitely NOT boring bit, we’re at the checkout.
I go to the cart and start emptying its contents.
…
My Cinny Minis just Houdini’d…
“Hey Mom? Where’s my cereal?”
Mom doesn’t look up. “I moved it to the child’s seat. It was taking up space.”
I looked at the child seat and surprise, surprise, it was empty!!
“Hey, what about milk?” Dad asked. “Do we have milk back at home?”
“No, we already have some unopened bottles at home.”
…
“Did we forget anything?” asked Dad.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Yo, anyone got oak?” Asked sweet Milo with his dollar-store headphones. Ahhhh, how I love my ear canals exploding from time to time.
“There’s a chest by the furnace, love. It’s labeled under ‘community snacks,’ said the purple gremlin. If she was good for one thing, ONE THING, it was her making a catalogue for the rest of us.
Michael popped in the VC and the server. “Hey guys, sorry for being late, had to wrap up some sets. Did you already build the base without me?”
“Yeah,” said Milo.
“Damnit, unlucky…” Ooh, that word sent shivers down me back…
M&M both loved to build shit or go in the mines for the hours, not get to get iron or diamonds, but to search for amber deposits, underworlds, some mineshafts, et cetera, et cetera.
As for me, I did one of the best things left in Minecraft.
PvE AND adventuring, baby!
It’s so simple! And it takes no skill, either!
But lately, the magic’s been wearing off on this as well, and soon enough, Survival will be such a drag…
So, what better solution is there for tasteless food other than giving it some spice!
“Ey Michael, you at spawn?”
“Yeah, why?” I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Oh man, he has no idea~! This is gonna be so good!
“Turn your ass around.”
He does as told and then—!
*whoops*
“What, where??” His voice cracks through Discord.
*whap-whap*
“Oh my—dude, stop!” He’s panicking now, with his character jerking backward.
*whoops*
“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice is shrill in my ears.
“C’mon, man! Hit me!” My character jumps in semi-circles around him.
“No, knock it the fuck off!” He runs away from me at full speed, and I start the manhunt. “Why are you like this?”
“I dunno, why are you such a wuss?”
“Violence is cringe.” Michael says, still maintaining a running speed, somehow. “YOU are cringe!!” Man, someone give this man an Oscar, cuz HOLY SHIT!! It actually feels like he’s scared shitless!
“C’mon man, let’s fight!”
“Let’s not!” He shrieks. “Quit it already! Go punch a tree.”
Ever so insertful, Raymond hot-mics a sigh. “David, c’mon, stop it. We already agreed this will be a peaceful server at the start.”
…Who’s we?
“Oh my God, Ray, it’s a bit, he’s doing a bit!” But just to show this cunt how wrong she is, I press Q and give Michele a fresh iron sword. “Here you go, bro, even the odds.”
“Absolutely not.”
Ray once more butts in. “See, he already said no three times. Respect his boundaries.”
“Oh my God, I’m tapping him with a wooden sword!” I completely give up on man-hunting Michael. “Micahel, just pick the iron sword and swing, brother.”
“Stop!” Michael says. “You’re not as funny as you think you are."
“What the hell. I’m literally giving you a sword. "I start running in circles. “Dude, just… Pick. It. Up…”
“David.” Ray’s voice gets that bossy vibe when she’s with Milo. “This is bullying.”
“Are you for real right now?” I bark laugh. I try, I REALLY do, not to make fun of her so I can prove her right, but holy shit, if my patience isn’t stretched thin… “Guys, it’s a video game! You can just respawn, remember?”
Milo also steps in, and guess which side he was on. “She’s not wrong. Also, you do this every time, D. The peace never lasts.”
“Man, where the fuck did you COME from?” I snap at him.
“David, this is textbook antagonizing,” Ray chimes in.
“I think this more of an exaggeration on everybody’s side? I am just playing a video game, in my special way.”
Milo jumps in again, and this time around, he goes for a gut-shot. “David, you have literally not never been a problem in this game. You’re like a virus, only less useful to humanity.”
“Oh my God, EAT A DICK, EMILIO!!”
“David, baby, you’re projecting.” Said Milo in a flat voice.
“LOVE, WHAT THE FUCK?!?” Oh cool, love having my eardrums popped. “Why did you call him baby?!”
“It’s cuz we’re dating, duuuuuuh!” I say as loud and obnoxious as I can.
Milo realized his giant mistake and tried to backpedal. “I wasn’t—I said David, baby.’”
“STOP LYING TO ME!!” Holy fuck, alright, the headsets are goin’ down, I repeat, goin’ down… “Why did you call another guy ‘baby’?”
“Ray, I didn’t—it slipped. I was just trying to piss him off!”
“Then say ‘dude’. Say ‘man.’ Don’t ‘baby’ him!!” Wow, she’s breathing really fast over some words…
For a moment, I wondered if her whole debacle counts as cyberbullying. Or maybe theater. Or maybe this is just what having a girlfriend is like?
Nah, Ray’s one of a kind; even I can tell…
“You never call me ‘baby’ anymore…” She says, and suddenly Minecraft just zones off in the distance.
Milo, to his credit, doesn’t immediately DC. Hell, he even tries to be suave about it: “I literally called you that, like… yesterday.”
“It’s not the same as before…” She even lowers her voice for the extra effect.
Man, if they do a breakup on Minecraft, I might just make some popcorn, gawdamn!
…
“I’m getting off…” Said Ray. Uh-oh, NOT good at all.
Her name and avatar gray out and disappear.
“Uh…” Michael finally found his lost voice and was also next on the chopping block. “I’m bouncing too. I’ve got some early workouts to do.” He DCs from Minecraft, then says. “Later.”
…
“M, look, you gotta believe me, I—”
“It’s FINE!” Milo screams at me. “It’s… fine,” he says to no one. “I’ll… I’ll talk to you later, D.”
“…Yeah.” I say, because what else? “My bad man…”
“Mh.” And with that, he was gone…
. . .
*FFfffhh…*
This is all fucking bullshit.
First Michael gets pissy, then this bitch gets pissy? Fuck is even going on at this point…
They can do whatever the FUCK they want and I clap like a goddamn seal. But when it’s MY turn, suddenly it’s all back to them!
What kinda bullshit is that?!
If he and Milo got into this type of fight, would his bitch-ass step away and actually talk to him? To get to the problem and manage to solve it?
Fuck no, I ain’t got cuchy, so I guess I’ll just go FUCK myself!
That’s right, that’s what the fuck I should tell him next time…
…
The stars are really bright tonight.
*Fffhhh…”
“ Huh…”
. . .
