You Can't Hurt Me

Smokey bandit

"Just one drag!" Race whined, following Jake around with a permanent puppy pout on his face.

Jack scowled, "absolutely not!"

"C'mon, one drag won't hurt, I'll take a small one, really a little nibble, I'll lick it." Race grabbed at Jacks side, but Jack continued walking forward so Race just kinda slid down his body and is now holding onto his legs aggressively, wrapping his torso and legs around Jacks legs.

Jack's face was set into a stubborn line, and he perused toward, dragging Race along.

"They're bad for you, absolutely not."

"So is cake! Are you saying I can't eat cake anymore?"

"If you keep whining, then yes."

Race groaned loudly and hit his forward against Jack's leg, growing his frustration.

"You're going to be late to school!"

"Why bother, school is a waste and a social contract."

Jack rolled his eyes, "do you want to end up like me? An art graduate."

Race's eyes widened, "oh damn."

Jack nodded, and wiggled his leg, the one Race seemed to be glued onto, "so if you don't get off my leg right now!"

Race made a high pitched whining sound the entire time, but he peeled off of Jack and got his homework together. Putting on a jacket, for it was getting cold.

"Hand 'em over."

"Hand what over Jack? I have nothing but my humble school work, for I am a simple work boy, slaving away to the endless mind labor, a form of tortue passed over the mind of many adults, one being yourself."

Jack rolled his eyes and reached down Race's pocket for his emergency cigars. Race groaned again, and lied down on the couch.

"If I don't get my cigarettes back, I will never move from this couch again, I will become fat and die and it will be your fault, do you want to become the guy who killed a child? Who allowed him to die from couch related deaths? Do you want me to grow a fullivan?" Race asked, unmoving.

"The bus will be here in two minutes, we don't have time for this! Get up!" Jack grabbed Race's leg, "I'm going to count to three."

"One."

Unmoving.

"Two."

Quiet scoff.

"Three!"

Jack pulled hard and Race landed on the floor.

"You can't make me go!"

"So help me I will carry you to that school bus!"

"No!" Race got up and ran to the opposite side of the table.

"Dammit Race! Just go to school! We can talk about the cigarette's after." He made a move forward, but Race just went the opposite direction.

"I need a smoke! My arms are itching! Do you want me to have itchy arms? They might think I have rabies!"

"Why would they think you have rabies? Is itchy arms even a symptom of rabies?" Jack snuck forward.

"I don't know! If school actually taught me something, maybe I would know. This is really your fault objectively. You should be ashamed of yourself good sir."

Jack took Race's distraction of speaking, and charged forward, over the table. Race let out a horrified screech, running to the side, but Jack grabbed him and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatos. Race kicked in protest but the himbo was too damn strong.