The Bad Boys' Soft Boys' Lonely Hearts Club - The Full Package

The Battle Royale With Cheese ~ Part 1

I stand up to talk, but Hayden stands up faster. Don't worry, love, I gotcha," he says, grabbing me by the shoulders. He turns towards the foursome, expanding his beefy lungs with one long drag of air, and yells at them with the force of a punch to the fuck you. "Can you stop fucking objectifying my boyfriend's perfectly adequate, veiny, plump, pink, succulent penis with soft glands and perfectly ratioed hole?!"

Well, I'm fucked now. Months of building reputation, down the drain. I'll forever be known as "plump boy."

Just then, the sound of moccasins tapping frantically from the hallway towards the court robs everyone's attention as every pair of eyes focus on the basketball court's entrance, and away from me. The door burst open to reveal Principal Dickwad, head to toe in his best French maid outfit, with a silver tray in his hand. He pays no mind to the enquiring whispers and side-eyes as he makes a straight line in a not-so-straight way up the bleachers and towards us. Crap.

"Excuse me, pardon me," he says as he navigates between confused students, some trying to take a peek up his skirt, because horny teenagers are weird.

Principal Strickland is sweating bullets and staring daggers at him. No word if she's tasting razors or hearing grenades as well. She closes her distance to the microphone, tapping it again to command the attention of the room, which works about as well as a mother trying to distract her children from a masturbating monkey at the zoo. Meaning, it doesn't.

"Ah, yes, well... Here he is!" she says, waving at Dickcheese for some reason. "Chillman, if you could-"

She's quickly interrupted by Principal Dillweed, snapping back and shhhh-ing as hard as he can with his free hand, continuing to walk towards us until he reaches Brayden. He pops a squat next to him, giving me a front-side seat to a meat-show I didn't consent to. "Here you go, sir, woofy me timbers," he says, handing Brayden a cup with a picture of Awkwafina at the academy awards sublimated on it. "My apologies for the tardiness, woofy me timbers. I had to go to a town over to find a place who could do thy bidding in such short notice, sir."

He also hands Okayden a glass of ice, which he proceeds to shove in his mouth, glass and all. He is really God's favorite idiot.

Brayden slaps his forehead a few times, making the staples on his head dig in deeper. "good boy, dingus. now, go be whatever you are, or something."

Principal Ballsack bows twice in quick succession and storms back down, with the pitter-patter of his moccasins punctuating his every move. His face is immutable, like a stone-cold killer, only kinkier. Mad respect. "You may begin now," he says to Principal Strickland as he takes his place next to her.

I swear I saw Principal Strickland mouth the word "Bitch" at him, buy whatever.

"Well, now that our... esteemed Principal Chillman decided to grace us with his presence," says Principal Strickland, "we shall cut to the chase. Both administrations have closely monitored the degrading situation of the school clubs, and we have decided that things are unsustainable. Chillman?"

Principal Chillman puts on a poker face and takes control of the mike. He would look more competent in a longer skirt, in my humble opinion. "We first thought that this... tragedy could serve as a bonding experience for both schools whose rivalry had been spiraling out of control. Fomenting cohabitation and space-sharing while synergizing our collective club budgets was our goal, first and foremost."

"Pay up," says Hayden towards Brayden, who begrudgingly hands him the money.

"dick," whispers Brayden. Or at least I think he did. Lowercase whispers are almost non-existence.

"However," says Principal Strickland, "the fact is that we failed. Our laissez faire approach has created a hostile environment."

"There ain't no hostility here!" yelled a boy from the opposite bleachers. "Just a bunch of open-mouthed hics trying to ruin our steese!"