That's Fucked Up

John Green

One windy day in fall, Ryan Ross slept comfortably in his bed, not a worry in the world.

Like any other day, he got up around 12:30, grabbed some Cinnamon Toast Crunch because that shit is da bomb dot com, and watched some telly. But this day wasn't any ordinary day, and Ryan realized this when he finally decided to care what day it was. October 30th. The day before Halloween.

Oh shit, today was his 5 year anniversary to his long-term boyfriend, the forehead master.

So it's around 2 that Ryan jumps into action, making reservations at some fancy ass Italian restaurant, because bitches love that shit, and digging through his closest to find his best outfit, which turned out to be some 70's looking piece, but since he's Ryan fucking Ross, he makes anything look good

After sending Forehead a quick text about being ready by 8 and wearing nice clothes, he fucks around on tumblr for a while, because who doesn't these days?

Before he knows it, it's 7:45. He grabs his keys and a small box and hops into his Chevy Impala and heads down Cemetery Dr. to Brendon's house.

He pulls up at exactly 8 o'clock and honks the horn from outside "Hey baby" *insert smooches* "What's been going on?" The talking forehead asked as Ryan pulled off and onto the freeway. "Nothing much without you, babe" Ryan says smoothly.

This was the moment Ryan knew he fucked up. He said that so smoothly, his hands slid from the steering wheel and the car violently jerked off the road and into the deep ditch bordering the street.

When the paramedics pull up and check the men's pockets, they find a box in Ryan's pocket, smalluh then a bug. And inside the box, was a ring. A wedding ring.

The paramedic pawned it and got a good $150 from it, and with that, he brought some kick ass albums. (Like Green Day, Linkin Park, and sadly, Nickleback)

The end.