Commissioning of The USS Dekcuc

[Cicada]

> be me
> have to sit on the bus next to the one dude in the known observable universe who doesnt know how to pretend people with the downs are people too
> intruding thoughts of his dick size
> trying not to bump elbows
> preventing further exposure to his flesh
> lest the genetics spread further
> gotta keep those five extra chromosomes quarantined
> at least three hours of seat sharing nobody agreed to
> where are the fucking liberals with their consent laws
> bus breaks down because of a fault on the panel
> fucking right theres a fault on the panel who let these dems in on the committee
> trying to manspread as much as possible into the seat aisle
> get some magnum room for the monster dong
> tfw the rubbers arent big enough
> suddenly feeling really sleepy
> and no its not the post nut clarity
> wake up tied to a chair
> goddamn this one night stand is getting way out of hand
> wait who the fuck is the person im sleeping with
> this metaphor for me watching my vp fucking die is getting way all over the place
> tfw its the same kind of all over the place as her brains

God.

It was like, he didn’t even know why he was trying to think up this kind of shit anymore. It wasn’t even funny- maybe there were a few lines that were salvageable. At some point after he’d woke up suddenly all he could think of was what sort of things he’d post on the /chan/ next. If he’d had any paper he’d have been motivated enough to start drawing up diagrams and doodling in the margins distractedly. Kinda like he was all the way back in GHHS, waiting for the clock to tick down while he struggled to avoid glancing over at people in the nearby seats and accidentally establishing eye contact.

Not that he was scared or anything, more like, he didn’t want to start anything when the bell was about to ring when he was going.

The problem of course was that all of these thoughts were pretty pointless. Demetri wasn’t stupid enough to pretend that he could go to sleep all of a sudden and wake up in that shitty box spring mattress he called a bed.

But he was, apparently, stupid enough to follow the screams. Just like him to want to rubberneck at the unfolding disaster and get some cheap laughs out of the schadenfreude, only this time he didn’t get to stand on the sidelines and watch because he was pretty much a part of it too.

Like, watch as he was so cucked he’d still somehow end up not talking to anybody meaningfully before he got snuffed.

((Demetri Futscher begins in Just keep breathin' and breathin' and breathin'))