Four bad boys, Ayden, Hayden, Brayden, and Okayden, try to form a school club to learn how to fight their bad boy instincts, or succumb to cliches trying.
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When Ayden's six-pack ap...
You know what's worse than a TAGB? A Totally Mysterious Girl/Boy. They narrate in purple prose, as if life was an Edgar Allan Poe poem. Always following you around all gloomy and stuff. She even got me monologuing.
I just look at her in the eyes, which is kinda weird to make a point of when you have dark glasses on, and said to her, as slowly and patiently as possible, "I gotta take a mondo shit," which is the only acceptable thing to say when you bump into an edge queen.
With that, I stood up, leaving her behind with her poor organizational skills. Not only cuz I do have to take a mondo dump, but because I wasn't going to fall into her trap. Which, sadly, I already seem to have fallen in.
"Such a dick ugh," I hear someone monologue, which, for the use of onomatopoeia, I believe to be Laila, as I powerwalk with my buttcheeks clenched towards the bathroom. Doesn't that word make you uncomfortable? Buttcheek? It's the part between the t and the c. Icky.
"Yeah, I know," says another voice, equally annoying, which can only belong to Leeland. "I just want him to choke me behind the taco truck God."
"I heard he beat Hayden Wilson in a fistfight yesterday," I heard somebody else say.
"Kya? I heard he was BEATEN UwU."
Chimanthera: lol I heard he once smoked a pack of cigarettes and it gave the pack cancer. Such a hot boy my god.
What even is this depraved place? I came here to learn, goddammit, not to be the purveyor of somebody else's sick fetishes and social contractualism. Kant didn't die for this.
As I see the gateway to my solace, the pooper-palace of shame — which is already shameful enough, being a person who poops at school — the universe decides to throw a wrench in my plans of relief by making me bump yet again with my new best friend, Hayden. And lemme tell ya, we are just too big to go inside at the same time.
"Oh," I say, trying to muster at least some amount of politeness that he deserves, "morning, Hayden. Why don't you go in first? I insist. Fast. Please."
Before he can say something edgewise, which I sure hope is something about how urgently he has to pee, what I can only describe as a mistake of bleached-blond hair grabs him by the arm and smashes against him. What lies behind that hair is a woman, furiously masticating a piece of gum, while looking as bored and checked out as a war veteran watching a Christopher Nolan film.
The girl, as any blonde woman in the arms of a jock, was wearing a cheerleader uniform, with two more girls equally checked out behind her.
"Babe, who is this loser?" she says, completely monotone, dragging the consonants. "What a loser. He looks like a loser."
"He is a loser," says one of the girls behind her.
"Yeah, take the L, for loser, you loser," said the other.
The cheerleader looks behind her and yells, "Shut the ef up, Stacey. Nobody likes you."
"Yeah, eat crap, Stacey," says the first crony.
Bad boy rules require me to stay in one place as the plot progresses, and boy am I about to progress the plot if things don't move along.
"Anyways, who is this poser clown?" says the cheerleader.
"He is a poser clown."
"Yeah! Poser clown, poser clown! Tell me a joke!"
"Seriously, Stacey, I'm about to punt you," said the Cheerleader. "Anyway, kick his ass, babe. Just for me. Stab him in the pancreas."
Unbeknownst to me, which I suppose is ubeknown, since I'm telling you, a small crowd has gathered around us, again, and just like last time, they began to chant.
"Fight, fight, fight!"
Hayden stays in place, surely monologuing, looking around like a girl who just bumped into a bad boy, which, in a way, we both are, and shakes the girl off his arm.
"Hey, uh, babe?" he says, grabbing my arm, "I gotta take a mondo dump. Ayden? Care to join me?"
Well, this took a turn to the weird. Can't say I've ever had a double dump before.
I don't even have time to say anything as we disappear inside the bathroom, with the mob outside still chanting at us. That's gonna be a real mood killer.
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