“Emile, it’s too late for us.” Miranda announced to her husband, gripping her bulging belly as her legs quivered in pain. She let out a sharp wail, filling the room with her pained wail, as another contraction happened. It hurt so much, she couldn’t help it. “I can feel it coming, Emile! I just had a contraction! The baby is almost here!”
Her husband was a complete mess, running around like a headless chicken. He was frozen in the panic, but terrified even more. He’d seen the X-Rays, knew what was inside his wife Miranda’s womb. That baby was no baby, it was a monster.
She screamed again, as another contraction pulsed through her body. There was a splash of water as her water broke, covering the floor, as Emile kept standing there hopelessly. He reached for his phone, trying to think what to do, who to call, but the battery was dead. Yelling in frustration, he threw the phone down angrily. Even more than just mad, he stamped his foot down on it hard, smashing it into a million little pieces.
“You can’t have this baby, Miranda!” Emile yelled at his wife, marching over to her. He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her hard, yelling in her face as spittle flew out of his mouth. He raised his hand, face flushed with anger, anger born of fear. He wanted to hit her so badly.
Miranda began to weep, as another contraction happened. She fell to the ground, unable to bear the pain any longer. Whatever was inside was clawing away at her, eating her, killing her. The water that was spilling out was turning crimson, and she kept screaming in pain.
Emile fell to his knees, sobbing, watching in horror. He could only watch as his wife died in front of him, killed by their child. How it had happened, he didn’t know, but that thing couldn’t have been his. He couldn’t have made something like this.
He reached down, picking up the newborn stained in afterbirth and blood from the ground. He looked into its eyes, it’s black beady eyes with their crimson iris. It wasn’t crying, just staring at him.
It cooed. It had a mouth full of razor teeth.
Emile sobbed again. Then he hugged his child.
Jay smiled wide and started rolling his shoulders, relieving some of the tension from spending half the lunch huddled over a table. Damn, he was good.
He didn’t normally write during lunch, or where other people could see him if he could help it, but this was due in two periods, and he did not need more penalisations for not doing his homework bringing down his GPA. It wasn’t so bad anyway, he was really getting into this. His phone hadn’t even been touched since he’d started, six pages ago.
He leaned forward again, thoughts still racing. It was time for preschool!
Then Who Was Phone???
An earlier point in the school-time continuum
So let's get something straight here. The school lunches are fucking garbo, and prisoners in Taiwan get a better meal. The floor of the lunch room was perpetually fucking dirty, despite the clashing nasal sensory abuse of floor cleaning chemicals splashed all over the fucking place, and that's not taking the food into account either! Let's be honest... Nobody in their right mind wants a burger made out of the missing sophomore on the picture on the cardboard container of spoiled milk they give you to go with the burger. Nobody with self respect anyways. Yet here he was,debating walking into the line, ready to receive some good ol' homemade Soylent Green. Now why would he do something like that?
Simple. Mistakes were made.
(( Michael Crowe: Pregame start))
Michael had forgotten his lunch at home, which you think you wouldn't, coz y'know, eating shit that makes a little chestburster come out of you like your name was John Hurt doesn't seem like a very good compromise, does it? Actually, you know what? Fuck it, he ain't going in there, he'll wait until he gets home to eat. After all, why have floor seasoned medium rare chicken strips with a side of salmonella and cholera when you can have crispy, delicious, buffalo sauce drenched fried chicken strips with a side of parmesan garlic fries from Benson's, right?
Michael simply did a one-eighty and moved to any nearby table he could find. Best thing he could do to distract him from the growling in his stomach was go conversemasate(That's a Crowe trademarked word, remember it!) and shit. As he was walking, he caught a glimpse of some writing on a paper. He paused and looked at it, reading as much as he could for the time being.
Speaking of chestbursters and shit, look at this! The fuck was he reading?!
He paused, looking over the paper for a moment, then back to the guy who wrote it. Shit, it's that ginger dude, Jay. Huh, he didn't look like the writey type, or the horror fan type, neither. Then again all he really knew about him was that time he knocked Trevor the fuck out, now that shit was cool as fuck!
"So, uhhh.... When's the part where the dad drops a cinder block on the baby?"
Nothing like using the easiest form of black humor, the dead baby, to start a conversation.
Simple. Mistakes were made.
(( Michael Crowe: Pregame start))
Michael had forgotten his lunch at home, which you think you wouldn't, coz y'know, eating shit that makes a little chestburster come out of you like your name was John Hurt doesn't seem like a very good compromise, does it? Actually, you know what? Fuck it, he ain't going in there, he'll wait until he gets home to eat. After all, why have floor seasoned medium rare chicken strips with a side of salmonella and cholera when you can have crispy, delicious, buffalo sauce drenched fried chicken strips with a side of parmesan garlic fries from Benson's, right?
Michael simply did a one-eighty and moved to any nearby table he could find. Best thing he could do to distract him from the growling in his stomach was go conversemasate(That's a Crowe trademarked word, remember it!) and shit. As he was walking, he caught a glimpse of some writing on a paper. He paused and looked at it, reading as much as he could for the time being.
Speaking of chestbursters and shit, look at this! The fuck was he reading?!
He paused, looking over the paper for a moment, then back to the guy who wrote it. Shit, it's that ginger dude, Jay. Huh, he didn't look like the writey type, or the horror fan type, neither. Then again all he really knew about him was that time he knocked Trevor the fuck out, now that shit was cool as fuck!
"So, uhhh.... When's the part where the dad drops a cinder block on the baby?"
Nothing like using the easiest form of black humor, the dead baby, to start a conversation.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Jay whipped his head around, jumping out of his seat just a little bit. Damn it how long had (Michael? Sounded about right) been standing there?
“Jesus dude, say something next time.”
He shot him a dirty look, but it was short lived. He was in a good mood after all, so he could let Mike’s creeping around and reading over his shoulder slide. It wasn’t even that big a deal as far as he cared, really.
“Anyway, that’s not really the point. It’s more, like, I dunno…” he replied, starting to think himself. He hadn’t actually really thought of anything like that, he’d just kind of assumed the ending would come together as he kept going. That's how half his stories panned out (the other half he just hadn't finished yet, of course).
“Kid’s not dying before preschool anyway. That’s what I’m working on now, and it’s going to get nasty fasty…”
He giggled an evil little sound, then remembered that he did not in fact know the guy he was talking to at all. He cleared his throat of his inappropriate evil laugh, because he was far too cool to look like the person who got way into their stories like he absolutely did.
Still, if Michael had already started reading, he could roll with this.
“If you want to see the whole thing, I’ve got the rest of it here.”
Because, hell, he could always use another fan.
“Jesus dude, say something next time.”
He shot him a dirty look, but it was short lived. He was in a good mood after all, so he could let Mike’s creeping around and reading over his shoulder slide. It wasn’t even that big a deal as far as he cared, really.
“Anyway, that’s not really the point. It’s more, like, I dunno…” he replied, starting to think himself. He hadn’t actually really thought of anything like that, he’d just kind of assumed the ending would come together as he kept going. That's how half his stories panned out (the other half he just hadn't finished yet, of course).
“Kid’s not dying before preschool anyway. That’s what I’m working on now, and it’s going to get nasty fasty…”
He giggled an evil little sound, then remembered that he did not in fact know the guy he was talking to at all. He cleared his throat of his inappropriate evil laugh, because he was far too cool to look like the person who got way into their stories like he absolutely did.
Still, if Michael had already started reading, he could roll with this.
“If you want to see the whole thing, I’ve got the rest of it here.”
Because, hell, he could always use another fan.
Michael wasn't really sure about the story if he was completely honest. Already the switch from MUST.KILL.BABI. to I LUV U SWEAT ENOCENT CHALD was somewhat jarring. But, the fact that he planned on writing in a daycare death spree intrigued him. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be serious, maybe it was some form of parody, or black comedy. Maybe he was in for some crazy shit like that zombie baby in Brain Dead. In which case, hell yeah, that'd be great. Then again, he could be serious, in which case it probably wouldn't end well. You need some form of suspension of disbelief, and in this particular case? Well, kinda hard to take red eyed needle teeth baby seriously. Might as well give it horns too.
"Eh, fuck it, why not?" he said. He had nothing else to do, after all....
Well, except to eat...whatever the fuck was being served here at the cafeteria.
Though to be honest, the scariest thing about all of this was Jay's little giggle. The fuck?
Michael pulled out a nearby chair and sat down, looking at the papers.
"So what type of nasty shit we talking about here?"
"Eh, fuck it, why not?" he said. He had nothing else to do, after all....
Well, except to eat...whatever the fuck was being served here at the cafeteria.
Though to be honest, the scariest thing about all of this was Jay's little giggle. The fuck?
Michael pulled out a nearby chair and sat down, looking at the papers.
"So what type of nasty shit we talking about here?"
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
He slid the first few chapters over to Michael, a sense of apprehension starting to grow. He loved getting feedback, whenever people actually gave it, but just because he was a soccer superstar didn’t mean he never got that writer’s anxiety. He did his best not to let it show, though.
“Thanks man, hope you like it.” he smiled, then opened fire.
“So, Miranda, the wife, and Emile porked out in this field during the Winter Solstice, that’s the shortest day in the year by the way, and that attracted an evil spirit which totally got in on the action.” Haunted threeway, hell yeah “but Emile didn’t realise he’d been possessed at the time and Miranda was kind of terrified of him for the past few months but didn’t say anything ‘cause she loves him, but now it’s too late ‘cause the baby’s already been born and Emile doesn’t know what to do so he’ll just have to raise it ‘cause it is a piece of his dead wife and all.”
“But the baby, since it’s possessed by an evil spirit and all, has to kill something every year on its birthday and eat their soul, which then gets amalgated into the baby’s personality, and they also learn everything the victim knew and everything, so this baby just gets smarter every year until it turns eighteen and eats Emile. And then eventually it runs for office and takes over America and convinces everyone to go with war with everyone else cause they’re all terrorists or something.”
There, finished. He continued smiling, edging an eyebrow closer in an ‘Eh? Eh?’ fashion as he waited for Michael to agree that it was a pretty damn cool story.
“Thanks man, hope you like it.” he smiled, then opened fire.
“So, Miranda, the wife, and Emile porked out in this field during the Winter Solstice, that’s the shortest day in the year by the way, and that attracted an evil spirit which totally got in on the action.” Haunted threeway, hell yeah “but Emile didn’t realise he’d been possessed at the time and Miranda was kind of terrified of him for the past few months but didn’t say anything ‘cause she loves him, but now it’s too late ‘cause the baby’s already been born and Emile doesn’t know what to do so he’ll just have to raise it ‘cause it is a piece of his dead wife and all.”
“But the baby, since it’s possessed by an evil spirit and all, has to kill something every year on its birthday and eat their soul, which then gets amalgated into the baby’s personality, and they also learn everything the victim knew and everything, so this baby just gets smarter every year until it turns eighteen and eats Emile. And then eventually it runs for office and takes over America and convinces everyone to go with war with everyone else cause they’re all terrorists or something.”
There, finished. He continued smiling, edging an eyebrow closer in an ‘Eh? Eh?’ fashion as he waited for Michael to agree that it was a pretty damn cool story.
"Heh he-What?"
...
"Hehehe..ooooh shit!"
"Pffft-hahahahahaha! Damn! T-that's fuckin' rich! Gyah~hahahahaha!"
Yo what in the fuck?! Demon baby becomes president Dubya?! This is fucking amazing holy shit! Michael couldn't breath, this was too funny, jesus fuck!
"Ohhh fuck, hehahehe, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... You uhhh, you ain't serious are you?"
Michael could tell he was serious by the look on his face.
"You're serious."
A long wheeze came out, followed by another wave of laughter. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-PFFFT HAAAAAAAA-HAHAHA, AHIEEEEEE-HEHEHEEEE!" This was it, Michael thought. He was dead. This was him dying. Jay had officially killed him with the funniest joke in the world. "I CAN'T BREATH! I CAN'T-HEHEHEHAHAHAH! OOOOHHHH NOOO NOOOO NOOOOOOHOHOHO! EEEEEEHHHHHHHH- EEEEEHHHHHHHHHHH..."
Michael's head dipped down onto the table as his laughing devolved into wheezing. Each time he tried to think of something else, he couldn't, because of the image of Demon-Baby pressing the nuke button over and over was just too damn funn-"bWAAAAHHH-HAAHH HAAAAA!" Yeah. That.
Tears were rolling down his face as each wheeze was forced out of his lungs. His entire body hurt like hell from laughing so hard that Michael was sure that behind each laugh there was a little mini-sob. He couldn't take it anymore. This shit was just too funny...
S001--/ S002--/ Michael Crowe's sides- Eliminated.
"Ooohhh fuck me... I'm sorry... I'm heheha s-sorry..."
"That was fucking great man! You'd do great at writing parodies."
...
"Hehehe..ooooh shit!"
"Pffft-hahahahahaha! Damn! T-that's fuckin' rich! Gyah~hahahahaha!"
Yo what in the fuck?! Demon baby becomes president Dubya?! This is fucking amazing holy shit! Michael couldn't breath, this was too funny, jesus fuck!
"Ohhh fuck, hehahehe, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... You uhhh, you ain't serious are you?"
Michael could tell he was serious by the look on his face.
"You're serious."
A long wheeze came out, followed by another wave of laughter. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-PFFFT HAAAAAAAA-HAHAHA, AHIEEEEEE-HEHEHEEEE!" This was it, Michael thought. He was dead. This was him dying. Jay had officially killed him with the funniest joke in the world. "I CAN'T BREATH! I CAN'T-HEHEHEHAHAHAH! OOOOHHHH NOOO NOOOO NOOOOOOHOHOHO! EEEEEEHHHHHHHH- EEEEEHHHHHHHHHHH..."
Michael's head dipped down onto the table as his laughing devolved into wheezing. Each time he tried to think of something else, he couldn't, because of the image of Demon-Baby pressing the nuke button over and over was just too damn funn-"bWAAAAHHH-HAAHH HAAAAA!" Yeah. That.
Tears were rolling down his face as each wheeze was forced out of his lungs. His entire body hurt like hell from laughing so hard that Michael was sure that behind each laugh there was a little mini-sob. He couldn't take it anymore. This shit was just too funny...
S001--/ S002--/ Michael Crowe's sides- Eliminated.
"Ooohhh fuck me... I'm sorry... I'm heheha s-sorry..."
"That was fucking great man! You'd do great at writing parodies."
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
He…but…wh- it-…PARODIES!?
Jay was shocked and appalled and flabbergasted and stunned and every one of the four synonyms for surprised that he knew. He was staring at Michael with mouth agape, as cartoonish as it seemed, and eyes that looked on the verge of something that certainly wasn’t joining in the laughter. He’d even started blushing again, as if he wasn’t embarrassed enough.
He was so stoked on that story, so proud of himself for all he’d done in the span of a half hour, how he’d come up with such a cool premise and dark scenes and all those things that were supposed to get everyone saying ‘More! More!’, and it had only taken him half a lunch break. It was supposed to be one of his best stories yet.
And then this asshole came along?!
He snatched the pages out from under Michael, not caring enough to do so carefully as the pages folded in on themselves.
“Dude, fuck off if you don’t get it. I didn’t ask what you thought about it, anyway.” despite all his feelings, he didn't yell what he said, or bother to look at Michael as he said it. He couldn't.
He looked back at his work, rereading lines and trying to convince himself that he was still enjoying it and not thinking about how much Michael had laughed.
“I bet you don’t even read stuff like this. What the hell do you know?”
It was good. It was good.
Jay was shocked and appalled and flabbergasted and stunned and every one of the four synonyms for surprised that he knew. He was staring at Michael with mouth agape, as cartoonish as it seemed, and eyes that looked on the verge of something that certainly wasn’t joining in the laughter. He’d even started blushing again, as if he wasn’t embarrassed enough.
He was so stoked on that story, so proud of himself for all he’d done in the span of a half hour, how he’d come up with such a cool premise and dark scenes and all those things that were supposed to get everyone saying ‘More! More!’, and it had only taken him half a lunch break. It was supposed to be one of his best stories yet.
And then this asshole came along?!
He snatched the pages out from under Michael, not caring enough to do so carefully as the pages folded in on themselves.
“Dude, fuck off if you don’t get it. I didn’t ask what you thought about it, anyway.” despite all his feelings, he didn't yell what he said, or bother to look at Michael as he said it. He couldn't.
He looked back at his work, rereading lines and trying to convince himself that he was still enjoying it and not thinking about how much Michael had laughed.
“I bet you don’t even read stuff like this. What the hell do you know?”
It was good. It was good.
Michael peeled his face from the table, wiping his eyes, chuckles still escaping his destroyed lungs.
"Ohh fuck man, that was great!"
He looked up and realized Jay was not amused. "What?" He watched as Jay yanked his papers back, with one of the angriest looks he'd ever seen. Wow, it was almost like Michael insulted his children or some shit, what the fuck was up with that?!
"But you did kind of ask... Besides, it wasn't like I didn't enjoy the story, it was great! One of the most entertaining things I've heard of in a while. I mean damn, if you were going for entertainment value, well you passed expectations."
Even still, it didn't seem like Jay was very happy with it, like damn, what'd he expect? The bastard child of Boss Baby and The Omen to be scary? You can't really take a baby Randal Flagg seriously, it's not the way it works. Like, how's a toddler gonna kill people and gather souls. Is he gonna eat other toddlers while at daycare? What would stop one of the caretakers who witnessed this from punting him like a football? Actually...
"Well, do you want some honest criticism? All the stuff after the baby's been born? I'd say scrap it, and keep it as a short story. When continuing the story causes more questions than the cliff hanger, then you've probably messed up somewhere to be fair. And it is kind of hard to be scared of a demon toddler. Suspension of Disbelief and all of that. It's one thing to pull something like Chucky and have it be half-horror half-comedy, but pint sized slashers aren't scary enough to be like, horror on it's own."
"Plus you could like, put more into less and really mess with people. Then you got some good shit going. But right now? Ehhhhh..." Michael shrugged, wrapping a finger around the leather shoestring knotted in his ear, coiling it. "Well, a coming of age story mixed with murder and demons mixed with political commentary is just kind of all over the place to be honest. You should separate them into different stories with different characters, you'd get more out of each concept than putting them into a blender. But that's just my two pennies or whatever the expression is."
He wasn't sure what Jay was expecting. Was he supposed to just say it was all good and scary? I mean, it did sound like a good read, like hell, that sounds funny as shit, he'd read it in the same way he'd watch The Room or Troll 2, but he wouldn't call it scary.
"But if you were asking if I was entertained or not, then yeah. I liked it, it was pretty funny. It just wasn't scary."
"Ohh fuck man, that was great!"
He looked up and realized Jay was not amused. "What?" He watched as Jay yanked his papers back, with one of the angriest looks he'd ever seen. Wow, it was almost like Michael insulted his children or some shit, what the fuck was up with that?!
"But you did kind of ask... Besides, it wasn't like I didn't enjoy the story, it was great! One of the most entertaining things I've heard of in a while. I mean damn, if you were going for entertainment value, well you passed expectations."
Even still, it didn't seem like Jay was very happy with it, like damn, what'd he expect? The bastard child of Boss Baby and The Omen to be scary? You can't really take a baby Randal Flagg seriously, it's not the way it works. Like, how's a toddler gonna kill people and gather souls. Is he gonna eat other toddlers while at daycare? What would stop one of the caretakers who witnessed this from punting him like a football? Actually...
"Well, do you want some honest criticism? All the stuff after the baby's been born? I'd say scrap it, and keep it as a short story. When continuing the story causes more questions than the cliff hanger, then you've probably messed up somewhere to be fair. And it is kind of hard to be scared of a demon toddler. Suspension of Disbelief and all of that. It's one thing to pull something like Chucky and have it be half-horror half-comedy, but pint sized slashers aren't scary enough to be like, horror on it's own."
"Plus you could like, put more into less and really mess with people. Then you got some good shit going. But right now? Ehhhhh..." Michael shrugged, wrapping a finger around the leather shoestring knotted in his ear, coiling it. "Well, a coming of age story mixed with murder and demons mixed with political commentary is just kind of all over the place to be honest. You should separate them into different stories with different characters, you'd get more out of each concept than putting them into a blender. But that's just my two pennies or whatever the expression is."
He wasn't sure what Jay was expecting. Was he supposed to just say it was all good and scary? I mean, it did sound like a good read, like hell, that sounds funny as shit, he'd read it in the same way he'd watch The Room or Troll 2, but he wouldn't call it scary.
"But if you were asking if I was entertained or not, then yeah. I liked it, it was pretty funny. It just wasn't scary."
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Jay sat there and listened to Michael’s thorough, if rather blunt, commentary on his baby story. Even though he wasn’t interrupting, however, Jay was not taking the criticisms lying down.
It’s a demon toddler, it can kill other babies well enough, use your frickin’ imagination…
It’s only raising more questions because I haven’t written the rest yet, genius…
There’s no political commentary in it, he’s just going to take over the USA…
“Says. You.”
The last one had been verbalised without intent. But he had said it, and he didn’t really care. He turned to face Michael again, cheeks quite a vibrant shade of red by that point. He clutched the story firmly between his hands, further wrinkling the paper. He was staring some rather blood-soaked daggers.
“Who the hell are you anyway, reading something behind someone’s back then dumping all over it? You think you’re some kind of super horror genius?! Why don’t you go back to your biker convention and look up some fucking stupider haircuts to try out instead, you lisping fuck!”
Yeah, he’d picked up on all this crap, it wasn’t like he hadn’t taken five seconds to look at how ridiculous Michael was dressed. He’d been polite enough not to bring it up, but if Michael felt like being a shit to him then he could easily send it both ways.
It’s a demon toddler, it can kill other babies well enough, use your frickin’ imagination…
It’s only raising more questions because I haven’t written the rest yet, genius…
There’s no political commentary in it, he’s just going to take over the USA…
“Says. You.”
The last one had been verbalised without intent. But he had said it, and he didn’t really care. He turned to face Michael again, cheeks quite a vibrant shade of red by that point. He clutched the story firmly between his hands, further wrinkling the paper. He was staring some rather blood-soaked daggers.
“Who the hell are you anyway, reading something behind someone’s back then dumping all over it? You think you’re some kind of super horror genius?! Why don’t you go back to your biker convention and look up some fucking stupider haircuts to try out instead, you lisping fuck!”
Yeah, he’d picked up on all this crap, it wasn’t like he hadn’t taken five seconds to look at how ridiculous Michael was dressed. He’d been polite enough not to bring it up, but if Michael felt like being a shit to him then he could easily send it both ways.
"Chk."
Michael found himself sucking through his teeth and cringing when Jay started throwing shade at him. "Ohhhh, wow." He tilted his head back as he heard him insult everything he could.
It didn't bother him though, it was all things he heard before. He was tempted to say numbers out loud on how many times he'd heard those things on separate occasions, but to be honest, this was the first time he heard it all in one sentence. Hell, he was surprised Jay didn't pepper in some homophobia for the quadruple double bypass of trying to insult everything about him. Well... Three out of four I guess? Close enough...
"Jeez Red, a guy says he likes your work and you throw everything and the kitchen sink at him, touchy man, damn." Michael wasn't sure if the 'red' comment was aimed at Jay's hair or his face at this point. The poor fuck looked like a beet. "Like shit bitch, I told you I liked the story, I thought it was funny, right? What's your malfunction? Ain't being entertaining enough?"
To be honest, Michael did feel somewhat insulted. "You know, I'm sorry for laughing at the horror themed reboot of Boss Baby. It was funny, I laughed. That's a positive emotion, no? Like, I don't get it, what do you want me to say? Do you want me to go 'Hey, this shit sucks, what the fuck am I reading?' I don't get it, what's the big fuckin' problem?"
Really, he just wanted a good distraction from the possibility of starving to death due it being a better option than eating the raw sewage from the school's septic tank mashed up together into it's meatloaf. What was so wrong about that?
Sure, he was aware that Jay probably wanted him to be scared instead of laughing at his story, but Michael felt like playing dumb. It was kind of funny, and maybe he could guilt trip him into not being such an oversensitive Sandy Panties Sally. Maybe he'd learn some damn manners or some shit. Maybe he'd just try the shit he pulled on Trevor. Who knew? Who cared really?
It'd be funny, though he'd prefer if Jay was smart enough to head somewhere secluded to do that shit. Michael being the modern day Durden knew all about the first rule after all.
"Really, is that the way you treat people all the time? Geez you're rude."
Michael found himself sucking through his teeth and cringing when Jay started throwing shade at him. "Ohhhh, wow." He tilted his head back as he heard him insult everything he could.
It didn't bother him though, it was all things he heard before. He was tempted to say numbers out loud on how many times he'd heard those things on separate occasions, but to be honest, this was the first time he heard it all in one sentence. Hell, he was surprised Jay didn't pepper in some homophobia for the quadruple double bypass of trying to insult everything about him. Well... Three out of four I guess? Close enough...
"Jeez Red, a guy says he likes your work and you throw everything and the kitchen sink at him, touchy man, damn." Michael wasn't sure if the 'red' comment was aimed at Jay's hair or his face at this point. The poor fuck looked like a beet. "Like shit bitch, I told you I liked the story, I thought it was funny, right? What's your malfunction? Ain't being entertaining enough?"
To be honest, Michael did feel somewhat insulted. "You know, I'm sorry for laughing at the horror themed reboot of Boss Baby. It was funny, I laughed. That's a positive emotion, no? Like, I don't get it, what do you want me to say? Do you want me to go 'Hey, this shit sucks, what the fuck am I reading?' I don't get it, what's the big fuckin' problem?"
Really, he just wanted a good distraction from the possibility of starving to death due it being a better option than eating the raw sewage from the school's septic tank mashed up together into it's meatloaf. What was so wrong about that?
Sure, he was aware that Jay probably wanted him to be scared instead of laughing at his story, but Michael felt like playing dumb. It was kind of funny, and maybe he could guilt trip him into not being such an oversensitive Sandy Panties Sally. Maybe he'd learn some damn manners or some shit. Maybe he'd just try the shit he pulled on Trevor. Who knew? Who cared really?
It'd be funny, though he'd prefer if Jay was smart enough to head somewhere secluded to do that shit. Michael being the modern day Durden knew all about the first rule after all.
"Really, is that the way you treat people all the time? Geez you're rude."
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Jay laughed in a most sarcastic manner, as his face didn’t turn one shade cooler. Oh, that was rich.
“I’M rude? You come over here, take a shit on my story whilst laughing your head off at it for no reason, act like you’ve done nothing wrong, and I’M rude?”
He noticed out of the corner of his eye that a few heads were starting to turn, because he was starting to yell. Blushing intensified.
Damn it, it was middle school all over again. He was being picked on by some dick who thought he knew everything, and everyone assumed that Jay was the bad guy, just because he was a little bit more passionate in arguing his side.
He tightened his hands into a fist, completely caving the paper in on itself. He could've kept going, could've bit Michael's head off, but he held it all back through clenched teeth. It was almost as painful as hearing his story ripped to pieces, but damn it he knew how situations like this tended to blow up in his face.
He stood up, starting to throw a rather unpleasant curse in Michael's direction, but cut himself off. He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to stay and finish his lunch and finish his story, but this was what they’d always said: if he was going to lose it, he needed to get away from the situation, no matter what. That didn’t do anything to solve the fact that Michael was a fucking asshole who would’ve got what was coming to him, but Jay didn’t need another trip to the Principal’s office after what happened with Trevor. It sucked, but what else could he do?
And what the hell was Boss Baby anyway?
((Jay Harland out))
“I’M rude? You come over here, take a shit on my story whilst laughing your head off at it for no reason, act like you’ve done nothing wrong, and I’M rude?”
He noticed out of the corner of his eye that a few heads were starting to turn, because he was starting to yell. Blushing intensified.
Damn it, it was middle school all over again. He was being picked on by some dick who thought he knew everything, and everyone assumed that Jay was the bad guy, just because he was a little bit more passionate in arguing his side.
He tightened his hands into a fist, completely caving the paper in on itself. He could've kept going, could've bit Michael's head off, but he held it all back through clenched teeth. It was almost as painful as hearing his story ripped to pieces, but damn it he knew how situations like this tended to blow up in his face.
He stood up, starting to throw a rather unpleasant curse in Michael's direction, but cut himself off. He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to stay and finish his lunch and finish his story, but this was what they’d always said: if he was going to lose it, he needed to get away from the situation, no matter what. That didn’t do anything to solve the fact that Michael was a fucking asshole who would’ve got what was coming to him, but Jay didn’t need another trip to the Principal’s office after what happened with Trevor. It sucked, but what else could he do?
And what the hell was Boss Baby anyway?
((Jay Harland out))
"Well, I didn't think I did anything wrong, I'm just saying-" Aaaand he's gone! Mr.Cherry face has left the building! Damn! Oh no, what will he do! He now has a whole table to himself! OOOOOOHHHH THE INHUMANITY OF IT ALL! Michael had no mouth and he must scream, what ever would he do now?
Michael shrugged and leaned back, placing his feet upon a nearby seat. It wasn't his fault Jay was so touchy-feely about writing. You shouldn't be a writer if you couldn't handle some honest criticism, which was a shame, because Jay would have been great at parodies. Maybe even a good comedy writer. Maybe if he'd change his focus we'd have less Amy Schumer and Dane Cook and in return we'd have more Gabriel Iglesias and Kevin Hart.
Whatever, not his problem. At the very least he got a good enough distraction out of the way, there was only like, ten minutes left for lunch anyways, so crisis avoided there. Those remaining ten minutes flew by pretty quickly when Michael spent the rest of the time daydreaming about various scenarios he was involved in. Didn't matter if it was a burglary at his home, in a car chase against some mobsters who stole a potential love interest in the trunk, or he was stuck in a slasher film or some shit, just going back and forth between various scenes. He kicked ass in all of them, and they'd all be great fucking movies to be honest.
By the time he had to leave the lunchroom and head to his next class he had completely forgotten he was even hungry in the first place.
((Michael Crowe is outta here, baby.))
Michael shrugged and leaned back, placing his feet upon a nearby seat. It wasn't his fault Jay was so touchy-feely about writing. You shouldn't be a writer if you couldn't handle some honest criticism, which was a shame, because Jay would have been great at parodies. Maybe even a good comedy writer. Maybe if he'd change his focus we'd have less Amy Schumer and Dane Cook and in return we'd have more Gabriel Iglesias and Kevin Hart.
Whatever, not his problem. At the very least he got a good enough distraction out of the way, there was only like, ten minutes left for lunch anyways, so crisis avoided there. Those remaining ten minutes flew by pretty quickly when Michael spent the rest of the time daydreaming about various scenarios he was involved in. Didn't matter if it was a burglary at his home, in a car chase against some mobsters who stole a potential love interest in the trunk, or he was stuck in a slasher film or some shit, just going back and forth between various scenes. He kicked ass in all of them, and they'd all be great fucking movies to be honest.
By the time he had to leave the lunchroom and head to his next class he had completely forgotten he was even hungry in the first place.
((Michael Crowe is outta here, baby.))
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.