Cs get baked beans

What's the matter, pancake batter?

"Yo Bark chocolate Ice Cream!"

Bark and I looked up from our usual lunch spot underneath the tree to find Warren Snow, Warren Snow was one of those people who you never thought were ever gonna grow up. We met him last year on our first day of year nine, he came up to us and said "Do you guys wanna see an impersonation of someone constipated?" before we even got a chance to speak he got down and made panting and grunting noises. He spent the whole lunch putting on a show for us, he impersonated a seizure, heart attack, woman giving birth and some other stuff I probably shouldn't mention. He was year 13 but I was pretty sure he had no friends his own age, everyone in his year seemed to think he was a loser. So hanging out with us was a smart move, when you're way older than everyone you're cool by default. I felt sorry for the guy. I had a private prayer at church that he'll have some sort of glow up before he started university but with two weeks until his graduation, I somehow doubted it. Bark seemed to think he was the cat's tail though.

"Snowy owl!" Bark exclaimed and stood up and gave Warren a fist bump.

"Hoot, hoot!" Warren said and Bark hooted (pardon the pun) with laughter like my parents when they're watching Mrs Brown's Boys. I let out a grin too. Unlike Bark, I wasn't wearing the rose-coloured glasses and was well aware that Warren wasn't the sort of role model I should be aspiring to be like. But nonetheless, I still loved Warren, despite his immaturity and tendency to skip showers. Warren was the only person I knew whose approval I didn't have to earn. Even Bark I felt was secretly judging me. The pitiful look he gave me when he prof-read my assignments, the sound of his voice when he told for one-millionth time that being a professional gamer wasn't a sustainable career choice, but with Warren it was easy.

Warren plonked down and thumped his unnaturally large backpack in front of him, he tore it open and whipped out a monster bag of sour gummies, a packet of squiggle pops and a block of mint bubbly chocolate, I didn't even know they still sold mint bubbly, everytime I went to the supermarket, I looked for them in the chocolate aisle with no such luck.

"Hope on board the sugar train. Toot! Toot!" Warren sang. We immediately dug in like pigs at a troff. Because Warren was year 13, he was allowed to leave during lunch breaks and study periods. He seemed to spend all his money on food which is worrying because I was pretty sure he didn't have a job.

"Shot, Warren!" Bark cheered.

"Anytime, Barkberry." Warren replied with a wink. This was our Tuesday routine, at lunchtime Bark and I would wait under our tree spot and Warren (since he had a study period) would greet us like the candyman was his uncle.

Throughout lunchtime, Warren entertained us with a-longer-than-it-should-have-been-story about the game he played with his friends (these friends were year seven) where he and his friends had a water fight but with their willies and they accidentally sprayed the principal, through fits of laughter Warren retorted; "He looked like a soggy dog." Bark had laughed so hard he got tears in his eyes when he finally managed to catch his breath he said; "Dude, the things you do in your study periods, I'm surprised they still give them to you." I wanted so badly to join them, to crack a joke about Warren's immaturity or ask if he was disadvantaged with having the smallest gun (that would've set Bark and Warren mighty howling) but I couldn't speak, I kept opening and closing my mouth like a silly goldfish. That latest C- had really gotten to me, the words 'unoriginal' had hissed through my ears like snakes slithering under a pillow, I was in such a crappy mood, Warren's junk food didn't even cheer me up, all of a sudden the squiggle pops were making me sick, the sour gummies were swelling my mouth and the chocolate--

"What's the matter, pancake batter?" my thoughts were interrupted when I found Bark and Warren both staring at me. Apart from Warren crunching on his mix of salt n vinegar chips and squiggle pops, silence followed us.

"Just tired." I lied. Bark studied me, he knew what was going on, but he was nice enough not to dob me in. I made a vow that when he was an exhausted father, I'd buy him a beer to thank him for this very moment.

Warren threw the empty packets over Bark; "Rubbish shower"

"Oi!" Bark shouted laughing hysterically as usual.

"You have to put it all in the bin." Warren said in a sing-song voice.

"You're the one that brought it" Bark whined.

"I'm also the one that paid for it, so don't ya think as a reward for using my hard earned money to cater your lunch --"

"What hard earned money?" I joined in. I felt better already. I loved it when Warren, the laziest person I knew, acted like a suit wearing working class man.

"Oooooh, thata burn." Bark said, giving me a high five.

Warren gasped and pretended to have a sore chest.

"Just take the rubbish, it's my dying wish." Warren said in a croaky, raspy voice to make it sound like he was actually dying.

"Ya know what?" Bark said. "I might catch y'all later anyway. I'm reading this new book at the moment and I'm itching to know what happens next so I might head to the library."

"I'm guessing it's a romance novel." I said.

Bark's cheeks darkened.

Warren started hugging himself and making kissing noises.

"Oh Bark, baby!" he exclaimed. "Kiss me like I'm one of your new sports cars."

Bark picked up the rubbish and headed off to the bin after muttering; "weirdo"

"I am not a weirdo!" Warren called out after him, Bark just laughed and rolled his eyes. Warren knew he was a weirdo, but he also knew that calling himself a weirdo would make him less of one, so he always made a big show of denying it. When you were Warren, your weirdness was all you had going for you.

Warren turned to me; "You okay, giraffe boy?" Bark was lucky with Benjamin for a first name. I'd have to spend the rest of my life enduring an embarrassing first and last name. When I was younger I'd introduce myself as Harold and people would always say; "Like the giraffe?", in primary school I even got called Harold the giraffe. When I made it to highschool I always thought no one would dare reference a children's giraffe out of fear of sounding uncool but it still happened more than I can tolerate. I went through a phase of insisting people called me 'Harry' but it never stuck.

I wasn't going to lie to Warren. It was better to release him than someone who's opinion mattered to me.

"I'm just sick of being normal." I confessed.

"What do ya mean? Isn't fitting in every teenage boy starting puberty's dream?"

"Fitting in sucks. Do you know what it's like to look at your class and realise no one will ever remember your name?"

Warren just stared up at me. He knew words of advice weren't his strong suit so he figured shutting up was probably the best idea.

"Like, I'll never do anything cool or interesting, all my jokes are stolen from Rick and Morty, and I just--" I groaned in frustration and pulled my paper out of my bag, practically abusing Warren with it.

"Look!" I shouted. "Just look!"

"Yikes, hedgehog spikes," Warren said expressionlessly.

"I wanna be creative, Warren. Just like you and Bark are but according to Mr Mickle Dickle, I'm unoriginal."

"Your teacher's Mr Mickle Dickle? This isn't helping, giraffe boy, but getting a C- from that guy is like getting bitten by a baby panda."

"Right?!"

"I think I have something that might help."

"If this is another one of your stupid jokes, Warren, I swear I will strangle you with my unoriginal piece of writing."

"Threatening people are we? That's not very original." Warren said, not being able to resist cracking a joke. The guy was like a five year old with a fruit burst the way he yields to his temptations.

Warren pulls out a handful of about nine brightly coloured packets. They were all either orange, pink or green. I had a funny feeling I knew what they were.

A/N Again, I'm back