Story 1
Rhonda pauses "World is Mine: Hatsune Miku" as her cosplay group enters the vendor room. Rows of tables overflowing with keychains and kawaii merchandise stands stretch farther than she can see through her fursuit eye-nets, but she barely even notices them, because Kevin is standing less than two feet away from her. He looks dreamier than she ever could have imagined in his genderbent Erza cosplay, a spraypainted cardboard chest plate, bushy crimson wig, and dark navy jeans. Rhonda inches closer to him, close enough to reach for his hand and pray that he'll wrap his fingers around her draconian fursuit paw...
"I'm going to go look at the Arpakassos," Mallory chirps. She hikes up the bodice of her Princess Serenity dress and waves, pushing her way through the throng of cosplayers.
"I'll go with her," Kevin says. "The knight needs to stay with his princess after all," he adds with a dashing wink, and he too disappears into the crowd.
The plan of action becomes clear to her; "Kevin's followed Mallory around ever since we've got here," Rhonda thinks. "If I want to hang out Kevin, I've got to stick to Mallory!"
Rhonda sticks a paw into an opening in the traffic of people, and she wedges herself between two groups of cosplayers. She gawks at the stacks of fanart stickers and rows of overpriced Funimation DVDs as she follows the crowd through the room. Finally, she reaches the back, where bins and tables of plushies attract anyone willing to shell out $20 or more for one. The popping of ramune caps and incessant chatter are the accompaniment to Rhonda's thudding heart as she spots Kevin and Mallory at one of the Arpakasso tables.
She watches as Mallory hugs a lavender alpaca with crossed eyes to her chest. "I love it! Thank you, Kevin!" A smile shines bright on her face as Kevin reaches into his wallet and pulls out two twenty-dollar bills.
Rhonda strikes, grabbing Mallory's arm and yanking her towards another table. "That plushie is adorable! Almost as cute as the Iwatobi swim club cosplayers I saw over there," Rhonda says, gesturing towards the vendor room exit.
"Iwatobi cosplayers? Were they shirtless?" Mallory squeals. Kevin's behind her in an instant, not even bothering to inquire of their destination, and the three of them waddle off towards the exit.
Rhonda pulls a similar stunt every half hour, and after a while even Mallory herself notices that Kevin won't go anywhere without her. They're about to enter the room dedicated for waltzing lessons (in preparation for the cosplay ball) when Mallory stops Kevin with a hand against his chest. "Kev?, she says, ?how about you dance with Rhonda? I know mom told you to make sure I don't get lost and all, but I already have to be around you 24/7 at home. And I want to go to the lolita tea party." She dashes off before Kevin can protest, and Rhonda suppresses a squeal.
"Looks like we're learning how to waltz," Kevin says with a smile.
?I know,? Rhonda grins. Hah, maybe she?ll dance so well that he?ll ask her to prom!
"But can you take off the fursuit?? he says. ?It would look a little weird, you know, a knight dancing with a dragon. Plus, no offense, but furries terrify me."
Story 2
"There's seven of them right now, two battering the basement door with a birdhouse poll, and the pair from 2014 are trying to break into my Ferrari so they can drive through the garage door. I haven't seen the other two since they were tossing their shoes at my windows." I squeezed my phone like I would've my mother's hand, had she been here. This had to be the most terrifying afternoon of my life, even worse than when Logan proposed to me.
Motion outside caught the corner of my eye, and I spotted a lawn flamingo cartwheeling through the air. It smacked into the window and shattered, raining pink shards all over my pool patio. I groaned.
"Don't get me wrong, mom, I almost hired a hitman to take out the neighbor's lawn flamingos myself, but still... Glass in my pool? Who do my ex's think they are?"
"Honey," my mother said in the same tone that she demands to speak to the manager in, "can you call me back when zumba hour is over? And try calling the cops before that? I'm a busy woman."
"But Logan's on the police force, remember?" I sprinted from my barstool kitchen perch to a couch providing cover from the front door windows. I peeked around the side and saw him slumped against my morning-glory trellis, too busy playing Clash Royale to spot me. Stupid golddigger, only wanted me for my money so he could buy more summons on Brave Frontier. The search warrant tucked under his arm flapped about wildly; it was ready to harness the tropical Californian breeze and join the birds. "Fly, little paper, fly!" I whispered. "Then he'll have to leave, and I can make a break out the front door."
My mother voiced no reply.
I lowered my phone with an eye roll. Says she hung up three minutes ago.
I choked back a sigh. ?Well, it was worth a try.? She?ll never know that I made up the whole situation just to get her to worry about me. Seven ex?s? Get real, I couldn?t even get a second date! Not even with Joe Schmidt the cabi! She?ll never know that the Ferrari is really a Sudan, that the Californian breeze is the snores of a Kansas thunderstorm, because she?s never cared about me, and never will.
I collapsed against my sofa and turn on the TV, reaching for the icecream that I had pulled out to thaw an hour ago, just incase. My spoon was already soaked by my bitter tears.
Worst afternoon of my life.
Story 3
[?]ImmaCyborg 2 points 6 months ago
"But what about the coffee?"
"What about the coffee?"
I swung my mug, and Briggs' eyes flew out of his head. "You're going to scald me!" He lept to his feet but alas- gravity had favored my caramelized honey latte. It splashed all over his crotch area. "****, West!? he yelped. ?My anniversary is on Tuesday, how am I gonna-"
"It was iced!"
?Oh? Are you sure??
?Is your dick on fire??
Briggs frowned and patted his slacks. ?I suppose not.?
"See? You?re fine. And you can't turn us in. We just got a Starbucks in the lobby; I haven't even tried all the frappuccinos yet. Have a heart."
He kept pointedly glancing down at the dark patch on his office slacks, but I ignored it. "I just feel like I'm lying to people," Briggs mumbled.
"You are lying to people."
?I?m like a parent who tells their kid that Santa is still real!?
?Oh, give me a break!?
?And so the kid is bullied by their smarter friends who know better and know that Santa?s just a Coca Cola gimmick and know that the Producta-Pill is a complete and utter sham! Except in this case the smarter friends are all the people who are going to sue us if they find out!?
?Well, when you have a kid, you can lie to them about Santa too.? I patted Briggs? shoulder and gulped down the rest of my latte.
He gritted his teeth. ?Don?t you feel even a little remorseful??
?Nah, look at all the great things we?ve done!? I pointed to what my fellow coworkers had dubbed ?The Almighty Wall?. To be frankly honest, the Almighty Wall was simply an unoccupied, plain-jane, astonishingly normal wall that management had started framing our accomplishments on.
?Thanks to Producta-Pill,? I continued, ?Beyonce has released two chart-topping albums in the past six months- but honestly, all of her albums are chart-toppers-, and National Treasure 3 has been filmed and is premiering next week- by the way, I?ve ordered both of us iMax tickets- and our biggest accomplishment?? I paused, cuing Briggs to finish with a broad grin and a wink.
Briggs sighed and began to speak in montone. ?Producta-Pill?s biggest accomplishment is that it inspired George R. R. Martin to get off his lazy ass and finish Winds of Winter before 2020.?
I yanked my shirt sleeve, showing Briggs my Stark wrist tattoo. He stumbled back when I glared at him, but I could tell he wasn?t making the connection. ?I?m a Game of Thrones fan, stupid! And you do not insult the father in front of his fans!?
Before Briggs could scramble together a half-assed apology, someone from management ran out of the main offices as fast as a caffeinated goat. ?Red alert!? he shrieked.
?His whole face is red from running, alright,? I commented.
All my coworkers looked up from their laptops. Some of them even popped a Producta-Pill or two to help get them ready for the oncoming challenge. Which always struck me as odd. If you know a pill is a placebo, you feel no phantom effects, right?
Eh, I was the only smartie management had hired in months anyway. If I had a dime for how many pills employees popped, I could afford to pay someone to build a time machine. Then I could travel into the future and read Winds of Winter and come back to spoil it for everyone else! Also, it would erase the need to sell the father sugar duds in the first place.
Our floor manager waved a sheet of paper in the air. ?Apparently, Producta-Pill is being blamed for giving people too much energy, and so all these rich people with insomnia are trying to sue us. Which is funny, isn?t it? Hah! Producta-Pill giving people too much energy! More like a high dosage of sugar! Am I right?? He paused, wheezing, and honestly I couldn?t tell if he was laughing or trying to catch his breath. ?The bad part,? he gasped, ?is that they?re going to do a test to see what?s in Producta-Pill, since people are questioning our ingredient list. And when they find nothing, that lawsuit will fall apart, but we?ll have a whole bunch of others ready to tear down our Almighty Wall. So, too long didn?t listen: the company is going under.?
For a few seconds, everyone was silent. Then one by one, laptops screens changed to Google, (except for Jackson?s, that loser think?s he?s gonna marry Bing), and people began typing in ?jobs wanted?.
?Looks like you won?t have a chance to rat us out after all, Briggs.? I grabbed a bottle of Producta-Pills and chugged it. Those things always gave me a mean sugar high. ?Mmm?Tastes like chicken.? Then I waltzed over to the Almighty Wall and pulled the signed thank-you note from George R. R. Martin off the wall. I stuffed it into my laptop bag. After a blink of hesitation, I pulled off a signed copy of Beyonce?s new album and pocketed it too.
Briggs rushed after me. ?West! What are you doing??
?Being productive,? I answered. Then I snatched a bottle of Producta-Pills from a busy coworker?s desk. ?How much would you pay for a signed Beyonce album??
Briggs opened his mouth and tentatively raised a finger.
?Never mind, you have no taste. But remember how much people paid for phones with flappybird?? I shook the bottle. ?Don?t you think some idiot will love to have a bottle of the placebos that fooled America? If I?m going to afford Starbucks while I look for a new job, I need some collateral.?
?That?s stealing!?
?Is it really??
Briggs shook his head, smoothed back his hair with one hand, and covered his crotch stain with the other. ?These pills have changed you, West. They may not give a person energy, but they do turn them into a self centered *****.?
Rhonda pauses "World is Mine: Hatsune Miku" as her cosplay group enters the vendor room. Rows of tables overflowing with keychains and kawaii merchandise stands stretch farther than she can see through her fursuit eye-nets, but she barely even notices them, because Kevin is standing less than two feet away from her. He looks dreamier than she ever could have imagined in his genderbent Erza cosplay, a spraypainted cardboard chest plate, bushy crimson wig, and dark navy jeans. Rhonda inches closer to him, close enough to reach for his hand and pray that he'll wrap his fingers around her draconian fursuit paw...
"I'm going to go look at the Arpakassos," Mallory chirps. She hikes up the bodice of her Princess Serenity dress and waves, pushing her way through the throng of cosplayers.
"I'll go with her," Kevin says. "The knight needs to stay with his princess after all," he adds with a dashing wink, and he too disappears into the crowd.
The plan of action becomes clear to her; "Kevin's followed Mallory around ever since we've got here," Rhonda thinks. "If I want to hang out Kevin, I've got to stick to Mallory!"
Rhonda sticks a paw into an opening in the traffic of people, and she wedges herself between two groups of cosplayers. She gawks at the stacks of fanart stickers and rows of overpriced Funimation DVDs as she follows the crowd through the room. Finally, she reaches the back, where bins and tables of plushies attract anyone willing to shell out $20 or more for one. The popping of ramune caps and incessant chatter are the accompaniment to Rhonda's thudding heart as she spots Kevin and Mallory at one of the Arpakasso tables.
She watches as Mallory hugs a lavender alpaca with crossed eyes to her chest. "I love it! Thank you, Kevin!" A smile shines bright on her face as Kevin reaches into his wallet and pulls out two twenty-dollar bills.
Rhonda strikes, grabbing Mallory's arm and yanking her towards another table. "That plushie is adorable! Almost as cute as the Iwatobi swim club cosplayers I saw over there," Rhonda says, gesturing towards the vendor room exit.
"Iwatobi cosplayers? Were they shirtless?" Mallory squeals. Kevin's behind her in an instant, not even bothering to inquire of their destination, and the three of them waddle off towards the exit.
Rhonda pulls a similar stunt every half hour, and after a while even Mallory herself notices that Kevin won't go anywhere without her. They're about to enter the room dedicated for waltzing lessons (in preparation for the cosplay ball) when Mallory stops Kevin with a hand against his chest. "Kev?, she says, ?how about you dance with Rhonda? I know mom told you to make sure I don't get lost and all, but I already have to be around you 24/7 at home. And I want to go to the lolita tea party." She dashes off before Kevin can protest, and Rhonda suppresses a squeal.
"Looks like we're learning how to waltz," Kevin says with a smile.
?I know,? Rhonda grins. Hah, maybe she?ll dance so well that he?ll ask her to prom!
"But can you take off the fursuit?? he says. ?It would look a little weird, you know, a knight dancing with a dragon. Plus, no offense, but furries terrify me."
Story 2
"There's seven of them right now, two battering the basement door with a birdhouse poll, and the pair from 2014 are trying to break into my Ferrari so they can drive through the garage door. I haven't seen the other two since they were tossing their shoes at my windows." I squeezed my phone like I would've my mother's hand, had she been here. This had to be the most terrifying afternoon of my life, even worse than when Logan proposed to me.
Motion outside caught the corner of my eye, and I spotted a lawn flamingo cartwheeling through the air. It smacked into the window and shattered, raining pink shards all over my pool patio. I groaned.
"Don't get me wrong, mom, I almost hired a hitman to take out the neighbor's lawn flamingos myself, but still... Glass in my pool? Who do my ex's think they are?"
"Honey," my mother said in the same tone that she demands to speak to the manager in, "can you call me back when zumba hour is over? And try calling the cops before that? I'm a busy woman."
"But Logan's on the police force, remember?" I sprinted from my barstool kitchen perch to a couch providing cover from the front door windows. I peeked around the side and saw him slumped against my morning-glory trellis, too busy playing Clash Royale to spot me. Stupid golddigger, only wanted me for my money so he could buy more summons on Brave Frontier. The search warrant tucked under his arm flapped about wildly; it was ready to harness the tropical Californian breeze and join the birds. "Fly, little paper, fly!" I whispered. "Then he'll have to leave, and I can make a break out the front door."
My mother voiced no reply.
I lowered my phone with an eye roll. Says she hung up three minutes ago.
I choked back a sigh. ?Well, it was worth a try.? She?ll never know that I made up the whole situation just to get her to worry about me. Seven ex?s? Get real, I couldn?t even get a second date! Not even with Joe Schmidt the cabi! She?ll never know that the Ferrari is really a Sudan, that the Californian breeze is the snores of a Kansas thunderstorm, because she?s never cared about me, and never will.
I collapsed against my sofa and turn on the TV, reaching for the icecream that I had pulled out to thaw an hour ago, just incase. My spoon was already soaked by my bitter tears.
Worst afternoon of my life.
Story 3
[?]ImmaCyborg 2 points 6 months ago
"But what about the coffee?"
"What about the coffee?"
I swung my mug, and Briggs' eyes flew out of his head. "You're going to scald me!" He lept to his feet but alas- gravity had favored my caramelized honey latte. It splashed all over his crotch area. "****, West!? he yelped. ?My anniversary is on Tuesday, how am I gonna-"
"It was iced!"
?Oh? Are you sure??
?Is your dick on fire??
Briggs frowned and patted his slacks. ?I suppose not.?
"See? You?re fine. And you can't turn us in. We just got a Starbucks in the lobby; I haven't even tried all the frappuccinos yet. Have a heart."
He kept pointedly glancing down at the dark patch on his office slacks, but I ignored it. "I just feel like I'm lying to people," Briggs mumbled.
"You are lying to people."
?I?m like a parent who tells their kid that Santa is still real!?
?Oh, give me a break!?
?And so the kid is bullied by their smarter friends who know better and know that Santa?s just a Coca Cola gimmick and know that the Producta-Pill is a complete and utter sham! Except in this case the smarter friends are all the people who are going to sue us if they find out!?
?Well, when you have a kid, you can lie to them about Santa too.? I patted Briggs? shoulder and gulped down the rest of my latte.
He gritted his teeth. ?Don?t you feel even a little remorseful??
?Nah, look at all the great things we?ve done!? I pointed to what my fellow coworkers had dubbed ?The Almighty Wall?. To be frankly honest, the Almighty Wall was simply an unoccupied, plain-jane, astonishingly normal wall that management had started framing our accomplishments on.
?Thanks to Producta-Pill,? I continued, ?Beyonce has released two chart-topping albums in the past six months- but honestly, all of her albums are chart-toppers-, and National Treasure 3 has been filmed and is premiering next week- by the way, I?ve ordered both of us iMax tickets- and our biggest accomplishment?? I paused, cuing Briggs to finish with a broad grin and a wink.
Briggs sighed and began to speak in montone. ?Producta-Pill?s biggest accomplishment is that it inspired George R. R. Martin to get off his lazy ass and finish Winds of Winter before 2020.?
I yanked my shirt sleeve, showing Briggs my Stark wrist tattoo. He stumbled back when I glared at him, but I could tell he wasn?t making the connection. ?I?m a Game of Thrones fan, stupid! And you do not insult the father in front of his fans!?
Before Briggs could scramble together a half-assed apology, someone from management ran out of the main offices as fast as a caffeinated goat. ?Red alert!? he shrieked.
?His whole face is red from running, alright,? I commented.
All my coworkers looked up from their laptops. Some of them even popped a Producta-Pill or two to help get them ready for the oncoming challenge. Which always struck me as odd. If you know a pill is a placebo, you feel no phantom effects, right?
Eh, I was the only smartie management had hired in months anyway. If I had a dime for how many pills employees popped, I could afford to pay someone to build a time machine. Then I could travel into the future and read Winds of Winter and come back to spoil it for everyone else! Also, it would erase the need to sell the father sugar duds in the first place.
Our floor manager waved a sheet of paper in the air. ?Apparently, Producta-Pill is being blamed for giving people too much energy, and so all these rich people with insomnia are trying to sue us. Which is funny, isn?t it? Hah! Producta-Pill giving people too much energy! More like a high dosage of sugar! Am I right?? He paused, wheezing, and honestly I couldn?t tell if he was laughing or trying to catch his breath. ?The bad part,? he gasped, ?is that they?re going to do a test to see what?s in Producta-Pill, since people are questioning our ingredient list. And when they find nothing, that lawsuit will fall apart, but we?ll have a whole bunch of others ready to tear down our Almighty Wall. So, too long didn?t listen: the company is going under.?
For a few seconds, everyone was silent. Then one by one, laptops screens changed to Google, (except for Jackson?s, that loser think?s he?s gonna marry Bing), and people began typing in ?jobs wanted?.
?Looks like you won?t have a chance to rat us out after all, Briggs.? I grabbed a bottle of Producta-Pills and chugged it. Those things always gave me a mean sugar high. ?Mmm?Tastes like chicken.? Then I waltzed over to the Almighty Wall and pulled the signed thank-you note from George R. R. Martin off the wall. I stuffed it into my laptop bag. After a blink of hesitation, I pulled off a signed copy of Beyonce?s new album and pocketed it too.
Briggs rushed after me. ?West! What are you doing??
?Being productive,? I answered. Then I snatched a bottle of Producta-Pills from a busy coworker?s desk. ?How much would you pay for a signed Beyonce album??
Briggs opened his mouth and tentatively raised a finger.
?Never mind, you have no taste. But remember how much people paid for phones with flappybird?? I shook the bottle. ?Don?t you think some idiot will love to have a bottle of the placebos that fooled America? If I?m going to afford Starbucks while I look for a new job, I need some collateral.?
?That?s stealing!?
?Is it really??
Briggs shook his head, smoothed back his hair with one hand, and covered his crotch stain with the other. ?These pills have changed you, West. They may not give a person energy, but they do turn them into a self centered *****.?
