How To Play The Game.

one - michael

"Dude, I'm telling you, you have a gift." Calum said, watching as the bartender walked away from him and Michael, her hips swaying.

"I've been told that many times." Michael shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. He took a sip of his beer, admiring the bartender as she took care of a couple guys a few feet away from them.

Meet Michael Clifford: New York Time's #1 Best Selling Author for the book How To Live With a Huge Penis. At only 25 years old, Michael had more fame and money than he could ever imagine. It all started out as a joke 2 years before, but Michael's silly How-To guide on living with a big dick soon spiraled into something more.

Suddenly Michael was on nearly every talk show in the country and in every bookstore in the state of New York doing signings, readings, you name it. For some reason the public loved hearing about how to live life with a huge penis. And honestly, Michael's penis wasn't that huge.

Michael always assumed that part of the appeal was just because he was, well, himself. He was young and attractive and polite, and the public practically ate that up. Even though he had bright red hair and piercings and a few tattoos, Michael Clifford was still considered one of the nicest male "celebrities" around. Everyone loved that there was a new, young, author around, and the fact that he happened to write a book about his penis made it all better.

"I'm not even kidding, man, you have it all." Calum gushed, drinking some more of his beer.

"I wouldn't say I have it all." Michael said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He made eye contact with the bartender again and sent her a wink, hoping that she'd come back over soon.

"You have the fame, the fortune, the girls. Seriously, I would kill to have your life." Calum went on. This was usually how their trips to the club went, Calum complained about how his life wasn't nearly as great as Michael's and Michael picked up girls. "Yet you still dress like you're in your first semester of college."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with the way I dress." Michael said innocently, looking down at his oversized jean jacket and black skinny jeans.

"You have enough money to buy an entirely new wardrobe every week but instead you spend your money on thrift store jackets and shoes with holes in the toes." Calum let out an exasperated sigh, taking his phone out from his pocket and reading through his Twitter feed.

"My clothes give me character." Michael said stubbornly, sitting up straighter on the barstool.

"That jacket is ugly." Calum cringed, crinkling up his nose.

"I love this jacket." Michael pouted, tugging at one of the sleeves. Michael liked his jacket a lot, he didn't understand why everyone that he ever talked to seemed to hate it.

"Anyway, Michael, I was just trying to say that you don't appreciate your life nearly as much as you should." Calum continued, setting his phone down on the counter.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Michael scoffed, sipping his beer again. He leaned over slightly, in search of the hot bartender, but he couldn't find her.

"Well, for one, you're still living here, and you haven't been in a serious relationship since - "

"What exactly is your point, Calum?" Michael shook his head, not understanding what his best friend was trying to get at. They'd known each other for the last 5 years and even though Calum was a true and loyal friend, he was quite annoying.

"You could have anything that you want, Clifford, but instead of jetting off to Paris every weekend you're living in a shitty apartment in New York with your two best friends." Calum said, finally explaining himself.