𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜||𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

1||Death

It was a truck.

...

It's always a fucking truck.

It could've been a plane, but no. It just had to be a truck.

And a fucking truck is what killed our poor Protagonist.

_____

(Name) (surname).

At 5, he started grade school.

Graduated at 11.

At 12 he started junior high.

Graduated at 15.

Started Highschool at 16.

Graduated at 18.

Started college at 18.

Graduated at 23.

A year later he died at 24 on April 1st.

How, you ask?

It's already stated, but you want an in depth explanation, don't you?

Well, it all began when poor (name) went to the housing supplies store to paint his new music studio...

"23.89." The old lady said with her gravelly voice as a frown adorned her wrinkled features.

He took out 25 dollars."keep the change."

"How kind." The woman said sarcastically as she placed the money in the cash register before slamming it shut harshly."Now skedaddle, my lunch break was supposed to start 2 minutes ago."

(Name) nodded nervously as he grabbed the 2 buckets of paint.

His car was parked in a parking building just across the street because the housing and renovation store parking lot was filled.

He sighed but then stopped his walking when he heard a rustle in the bushes.

Hesitantly, he turned his head and flinched when he heard the rustling again.

That's when a chihuahua popped out of the bushes like it just came out of a portal from the nether.

"What the fuck...?" (Name) muttered as e/c eyes clashed with demented black ones.

Those stupidly large eyes too big for its demonic head.

And then Wild West music started to play in (name)'s head as he narrowed his eyes at the little demon incarnate.

And then it started to shake like crazy and growl.

That's when (name) took it as his queue to leave. "Oh hell naw, this thing has rabies for sure. uh uh, I already had to deal with a scary old lady at the cash register which I'm pretty sure is a witch, I ain't dealing with you."

He did a 180 and began to walk faster, but the dog just followed closely behind, still growling like it was possessed and needed an exorcist to send its soul to wherever it came from.

The poor guy began to lightly jog as he made his way across the parking lot as sweat trickled down his temple, the buckets of paint feeling way heavier than before.

The dog was now running.

oh fuck no.

Nope, WE SPRINTING.

WE FUCKING SPRINTING.

(Name) began to dash in the direction of the garage building. And when I say sprint, I mean sprint.

Bro ran faster that Barry Allen. Faster than your dad trying to leave to get the milk. Faster than your mom could get the belt when you get a bad grade.

"Hakuna Matata! Hakuna Matata!" He screeched as his feet hit the pavement desperately trying to get away from Satan's incarnation. "Lord give me strength, I'm sorry for all of my wrong-doings!" He chanted in his head, completely ignoring the red light at the cross walk as he ran for his car. "THIS IS ALL JUST A BAD DREAM WHERE I'LL WAKE UP AT ANY MINUTE!—"

And his head hit the truck, BAM.

His last words were the following:

"I died on April 1st...? I guess I really am a joke."

________

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