okay listen buddy you literally asked for this

Trash On The Walls And Trash On The Floor

It's a loud, bustling night in the downtown area. The sidewalk is filled with people, on every side of the air itself, everyone cramming themselves onto the walkway and into stores, theaters, restaurants, you name it. If the way was still, and all was frozen, you might even be able to feel the salty summer breeze coming off of the sea a few miles down. And yet, you cannot, as the hundreds of people passing through every minute are shredding that wind in between their walking, shoulder-to-shoulder.

A young man in a dapper, patched-up suit, holding flowers in one hand, is the only static object in the river of people. He has his face buried in his hands, his palms covering his eyes and the bouquet resting quietly on his forehead, gathering mist.

"i should have stayed home and played the new call of duty," he says, holding back tears, "This is so not cash money..."

For a moment, he is completely alone in a street filled with people. For a moment, the entire world is completely still and frozen in the city's busiest street. Music is playing, people are laughing and talking and shouting, and yet it has never been so quiet.

And then, maybe a foot off the ground, there's a small tug on the hem of his pant leg.

"HEY, KID! [All Alone On A Friday Night?] HEY! HEY, KID!"

The world snaps into motion once again as he moves his hands off of his face to look at whoever is speaking to him. He looks ahead of him. No one. Is this a prank? He looks around.

"HEY! [Hot Singles In Your Area Are Talking To You!] DOWN HERE, [Bozo]!!!"

He looks down, where the voice came from.

...There is a funny looking little man in front of Jerma, and he has honestly no idea how to react.

He sniffles, and does his absolute best to try and understand the strange little fella in front of him. He can't, but he tries. "...Hi. Why are you pulling on my leg."

"ARE YOU OKAY"

...Oh. That. Jerma is actually Not Okay. Being asked if he was okay was the thing that made him Stop Being Okay. He bursts into tears again.

"HOLY SHIT! I AM SORRY! [Did iiii doooo thaaaaat?]"

Although Jerma appreciates a nice Steve Urkel reference as much as the next guy, now he feels a little bad for the confusion. "No, no, it wasn't you, i was just, uhh, i'm just having a bad night. snff."

"AH. I GET IT. [Flowers for that special lady? Get 'em now!] SHE DIDN'T TAKE THEM! [Fuck You, Baltimore!] THAT IS TERRIBLE. MAN"

"No, she, uh, just didn't show up, and now I have an expensive reservation that I gotta deal... with..." Jerma winced. He forgot about that reservation, but come to think of it, his wallet's gonna take a hit.

"WELL." the little man paused. "I CAN BE YOUR WIFE!! SO THE MONEY DOESNT GO TO WASTE. OR I CAN HELP YOU STEAL IT. [Mail-Order Bride!]"

There is a pause, as Jerma looks up in surprise.

"LETS STEAL SOME MONEY. OR GET SOME DINNER! [Let's go, lesbians!]" the little man tugs on his pant leg again. He leans to the side, to look in the window of the fancy restaurant they were stood in front of. "MAN IT IS BRIGHT IN THERE"

He smiles at this. "Yeah, okay. Let's go in there and eat some FOOD" jerma says, in a slightly better mood. Who needs Lois Griffin when you have... this little guy. Yeah.

"I WOULD HOLD YOUR HAND BUT YOU ARE [600%] MY HEIGHT"

they pause before entering the restaurant. there is a momentary silence. after a couple seconds of thinking, jerma leans down, picks up the strange little feller, and stands back up, carrying him under his arm like a teddy bear.