I was walking around when I saw a guy parked outside of an elementary school waiting with a pair of binoculars. He was staring into the playground where apparently kids were having recess. Finally, I thought, a fellow human being just as bored as I am, reduced to having desires for recess. After spending a whole summer on a computer, staring at a playground would seem like an active social life. I took this chance to meet a fellow comrade in the fight against the need to be socially acceptable. In what I hoped to be a sincerely friendly move, I opened up his door and sat in his passenger seat. He turned and stared at me.
"It's not what it looks like, I swear."
"It's okay," I understood what it felt, having to hide behind so many faces, one forgets who they really are. "I too, sometimes wish I had recess at school, but in my culture elementary school is for rich people, or stupid people.
"Look, I don't know who the fuck you are but-" I glanced around his car. He had some toys and candy tossed haphazardly into the back, and Starbucks coffee in his cup holder. Some undiscernable yipping noises in the trunk also caught my attention, as well as a small bouquet of flowers on the dashboard.
I grabbed one of the flowers, ripped the bud off, and popped it into my mouth. "These flowers are delicious, you must tell me where you bought them."
"What the fuck?!" Ah, having been on the internet so long, hearing that in person sent shivers down my spine.
"In my culture, "I explained," it is customary to eat everything starting with the head." Now, scientifically speaking, flowers don't really have heads, and if anything, I just dove right for the vagina of the flower and ate the shit out of it. But he seemed uncultured, so I doubt he knew or cared.
"What the fuck?!" He reiterated. Do humans really love that expression that much?
"Look, in my culture, it is a rule you must eat things starting with it's the head. Preferably in one bite, so you don't have to stare the animal in it's cold, dead eyes. And if you bring flowers for your date, I assume you go for the next available part. It's just, no one in my country uses flowers, since there is no real head. It's much more appealing to girls if you bring them the carcass of a decapitated animal. They can eat it from anywhere they want, since you already ate the head."
He then stared into my eyes.
"Are you a cop?" He demanded. Now he had me confused, since in no way am I a cop. But if I was a cop, that would be kick-ass since they get guns and stuff. I'm interested in guns but the school I go to apparently prohibits any and all firearms, as well as the city encompassing it. Pricks. I bet those cops get guns. Cop Pricks.
"Hell no, I hate prickly cops. But there are cops over there," I pointed to a car a block away. "I came from that direction and some cops were there with binoculars staring this way. Bunch of fucking pedophile cops, am I right? My parents didn't immigrate here a year separately but equally to pay taxes to fund fucking pedophile cops."
"Oh fuck! I knew being registered would fuck everything up."
"Registered? What game? Or is it a forum? I hate registering too, I don't trust those assholes with my e-mail. Every time I register something, I get loads of penis enhancement ads in my inbox. The worst part is, none of them work"
He began turning red, or maybe a hue of purple. I'm unsure, but it could also have been a Pepto Bismol pink. Staring at him made my stomach churn, so maybe it was Pepto-Pink. I stopped staring at him. My stomach settled.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." What a dirty mouth he has. And that's coming from me.
"I have to get out of here, I umm, left the microwave on at home. My pot roast is probably burning."
"Wait. What? Your leaving your car in the hands of a total stranger?"
"Just fucking do it, or else." He opened the car door and slid out.
"Fine, but expect your ashtray to be devoid of all coins. Douche." I watched as he crawled away, military crawl style. Or snake style; or whatever they call that little squiggle dance people do on the floor while inching away.
As soon as he hit the end of the block, he got up and sprinted away down the intersection. Or maybe he just started out sprinting and quickly switched to a paced jog. I couldn't tell since he was out of sight already, but he was pretty out of shape.
I moved myself into the drivers seat, it was uncomfortably warm. I mean, warm seats are comfortable on cold days I'm assuming, or maybe people who have cold hard asses would enjoy the warminess of the chair. Warm seats are; however, inherently discomforting because the knowledge of some other person's dirty, icky, nasty, and probably sweaty ass-butt has been on the chair. Holy shit was it uncomfortable. I moved back to my seat.
What was I to do? I was bored as hell in my new (best) friend's car waiting for him to save his pot roast, and hopefully bringing me back some of said pot roast. I was starting to get hungry, that flower did little to satiate my hunger. Another reason why my culture stopped using flowers, they do nothing to satiate your lust for flesh, warm succulent flesh. Especially those of my enemies. I wiped the saliva that began to accumulate in excess due to my sudden craving, and quickly put it out of my mind. This is no situation for that, another time, another place. Thankfully, strewn about were all sorts of confectionary treats. I look around for my favorites, seeing Skittles and M&M's, I quickly realized to my horror he had purchased that shitty fun bag full of shitty candies. Noooo!! I began to pound on my dashboard. May the crumbling heavens hear my lament, and the pits of hell be torn asunder, for my cries of anger can only be equaled by the sadness in my stomach and taste buds.
Just as I nearly depleted my energy from the viscous throes against the dashboard, the school bell rang and the children began to escape their mandated by law child prison. A little girl walks up to my car and asks me why I am beating up my dashboard. I rolled down the window.
"Kid, life is cruel. One day you will realize there is no god, and everyone you love will die. Also, the candy flavors you like will never be there for you. Never!" I screamed the last part at her. Her jaw began to do that chattering thing, except her face was ever descending into an emoticon ): I often see on the internet. Tears began to well up in her eyes like a well welling up for well... welling season.
"Oh shit, I'm sorry kid, I didn't mean to make you cry. Say, do you like Skittles or M&M's?" She managed to choke back her sobs and mumble Skittles. Either that girl is very good at invoking pity, or she was genuinely crying. I couldn't tell, but I swear she was grinning behind those tears and Skittle bags I was handing her. I then saw the sirens blink from the squad car and it slowly drove towards where I was. Two officers approached me.
"Get the fuck out of the car, you fucking worthless piece of shit."
"Whoa thar' cowboy, there's chillens' roun' ere'." I did my best imitation of a Southerner since I assumed he was white. They didn't seem all that convinced. "Yarghhhhhhhh." I added.
They wrenched the door open and pulled me out with surprising force.
"Get the hall monitor Suzy" I screamed.
"My name is Felicity."
"I don't care if your name is Sgt. Major Wafflesniffer Ironsausage, go do something. Get help! I gave you Skittles!" She threw the bag at my face.
"These are normal Skittles. I hate normal Skittles. I wanted the sour kind. I hate you."
And she ran off, crying again. What a conniving bitch. This is why my culture hates little girls. The officers dragged me to the squad car with much determination. They were determined because every limb on my body was flailing and I was screaming for help like a little girl. Those prickly cops had to earn their paychecks, stupid tax eating tax eaters. Also, I made them very pathetic for dragging away such a pathetic human, although I was only mock-pathetic, the police are truly the pathetic ones for escorting the pathetic person. After all, who is more pathetic? The pathetic flailing sissy or the two buff burly mancops handling said sissy.
During the car ride, I had a horribly feeling in my stomach. What I wouldn't give to see my Pepto-Bismol friend; although, he's the one who got me into this mess. He is not a very good friend. I think I might have to break up with him.
"Will you read me my Miranda rights?"
"No."
"Will you turn on the sirens?"
"No."
"Might I say officer, you have such wonderful blue eyes."
"Are you hitting on me? Also I'm wearing sunglasses. Also, my eyes are brown." Shit there goes that plan of escape.
"M&M's anyone?"
"..."
"Look I gave Suzy all the Skittles I had, and she just threw em' at me. So I only have M&M's left."
"..."
"Can you at least change the radio station? This fuzzy radio isn't fun to listen to at all. What is this? Some new aged jazz/rock/grunge shit? Is it jazzockunge? That sounds awesome." They ignored me for the rest of the road trip.
Fifteen minutes later, we were at the police station. Or maybe it was a CIA HQ, disguised as a police station. That would be so cool. Also, they would have fire trucks that shoots Michael C. Hall out at fires because to fight fire, you just need someone who's even hotter. No homo.
They led me to what I guessed would have been the time out zone. It was empty except for a mirror, a table, some chairs, and a tape recorder which probably play jazzockunge, and that Pixar lamp that seems to mock you when you are in place. Another more burly heaving mancop, and a four-eyes in semi-formal attire were in there. Although they were not in uniform, this did not make them any less intimidating, if only I still had a fear receptor in my body. I manually disabled them by watching a combination of shock sites and Starcraft matches. I do not know fear. Although I can very much overload my aggression inhibitors.
"Sit down!" Barked the rippling muscle mass.
I jumped and peed myself a little bit. Ok, maybe it was self respect and not fear that I had lost. I forget the difference. I sat down nervously.
"What were you doing at that elementary school?" Demanded the heaving muscle sack.
"I plead the fifth"
"That bullshit doesn't fly in these parts"
"Like a G6?" I chimed. The chiseled cop gave me a slap.
"Do you think this is funny? Is this a joke to you? Do you know what they do to fucking freaks like you in other countries? They wouldn't blink twice beating the shit out of you. And that's just the nice part."
"I swear I didn't pirate all those games and/or pornography. Whichever one I'm in here for. It was my friend. He was using my computer."
"What the fuck?! I don't care about that shit. You're here because you're a goddamned freak. You worthless shitsucking Chi-"
"That's enough." interrupted the bespectacled man. Look, don't mind him. He's just having a rough day. Just admit to your crime, we have clear evidence you were soliciting children."
"Sol? Isseh? Ting? Are you racist or something? I'm clearly Asian, but I have an English name." Glasses gave Muscles a look, and once again I was slapped, on the other cheek this time, but damn them to hell if I was going to turn my cheek. It wasn't a problem since he was standing and his arm had great reach, and me not turning my cheek did not hinder his slapping in anyway to my dismay.
"I told you, it was my friend, not me. I only download from legitimate sites, like Limewire and Megaporn, and definitely not from The Pirate Bay, the most trusted source for your pirating needs."
"We know you're a fucking pedophile!" sprayed the muscle man as he lifted me up by my collar. Poindexter put his hands in front of Steroids, signaling for him to stop. He put me back down and went back to his corner of the room.
"I understand you may have a different set of morals than us, normal, white people, but you have to understand that children are precious in all cultures. We just want to make sure you do nothing to harm them, and thus you need to be registered."
"Speaking of oral and children, what's the good thing about doing twenty-nine year olds?" I learned this joke from Starcraft, so I knew it would be a hit. "There's twenty of them!" I raised my hand up for a bro-fist. I received a fist, albeit it was a faster, and way more in my face than anything I was expecting.
"You fucking d-" I gaped in horror as Testosterone, lunging towards me, was, I assume, about to make me his bitch.
I closed my eyes and clenched my asshole, as I prepared to face the oncoming assault of rippling manmeat.
"Stop!" Boomed an almighty voice from on high. "Release him!" I was always such a staunch atheist, but all of a sudden, I knew a miracle had saved my butt hole. Thank you, Panda Allah, I should have never doubted you and your bamboo-ey goodness. I opened my eyes and saw the intercom in the ceiling corner, and quickly retracted my conversion. Sorry Atheist Jesus, for my lack of faith in your mysterious ways. I should have never doubted thee.
"Why can't I rip this scum sucker a new asshole?" Demanded Muscle Milk.
"Turns out we have the wrong guy. The car belonged to a registered sex offender, and photo surveillance proves this is just a hapless retard. We have the real criminal coming in as we speak.
Nerd boy helped me back up to my feet.
"Sorry for the confusion, I hope you won't mistake my passion as a crime." Said Protein Shake.
"Pshh. Anymore passion and you would have creamed your pants. But I understand where you are coming from, Roid Rage," I patted him on the shoulder. "testicular shrinkage can put all of us in terrible moods and desires to mangle rectums."
Geek Squad walked me to the door and escorted me out. Coming in from the opposite direction was my soon-to-be ex-BFF. I wanted to make sure I was doing the right thing. That we were not meant to be. I knew one sided relationships were meaningless, so I looked him in the eyes.
"Did you save the pot roast?"
