Have Faith: Life and Times of a Glorious Asshole

Rosie O'Donnell Pays the Goodie-Gang a Visit

A week or so had passed and I had begun to get accustomed to life with the group of misfits.
Life with the goodie-gang was like stepping out of real world and into gir-was I about to go all Mean Girls and say 'girl world'?
Fuck.
I need to stop watching that damn movie.
Who knows if Regina George could pull a Samara from the Ring and crawl through my television, wanting to write all sort of bullshit about me in her Burn Book.

Anywho, life with that bunch of sacks of goodness and morals was almost surreal.
They were all kind and well...good.
I would constantly wonder what would've happened to their mindset of the world if they had went through all I had. If they had done what I had done.
But, I quickly stopped with those creepy thoughts and focused on keeping myself slightly distanced from them.
I would not become one of them.

Sadly, though, with the constant arguing and an abundance of flame derived mishaps, (curtesy of Thomas) I began to thoroughly enjoy my stay at the 'cabin'.

Little did I know that I was about to flip the fuck out and get dragged even deeper into that smelly bunch of "peace on earth and goodwill to men" with the next virtuous act Eric and his little squad were planning.

Because, somehow, the land of misfit toys almost made being good seem pretty...bad.

I was sitting at the island, currently focusing on the large mount of food in front of me.

Fun fact about myself: I really like food. Like, a lot. My stomach is practically an entire third world country and I find myself constantly eating. That also led to small disagreements with Mr. 'High and Mighty'. He reminded me of Gandalf at times, standing in front of the fridge and frowning, the creases in his face deepening as I tried to hold myself back from placing a staff in his hand and a hat on his head so he could roar out, "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"

Anyways, back to my food. I was practically inhaling the chocolate covered popcorn I had stolen from the pantry when Thomas ran into the room, his already messy hair even more disheveled than usual.
Glasses askew and eyes wide in urgency, he ran past me. "Oh shit!" He cried.
I rose a brow and glanced over at him as he tried to shove his entire 6'3 body behind the other side of the island.

I waited in silence, listening to him hiss out quiet swears under his breath. I smirked, practically feeding on his terror as I stood up and carefully made my way around the island. I got over to the side he was on and looked down, seeing the tall boy facing away from me, curled in a sitting position on the ground. "It's gonna get in the house," he whispered. "It's gonna get in the-"
I interrupted him as I grabbed his shoulders from behind and put my mouth next to his ear. "Ooga Booga!" I yelled.

He let out a shriek, peeling away from me and I let out a surprised yelp as his hand connected with my cheek.

"Ace?!" He asked hoarsely, jumping back and staring at me.
I stared back, feeling a slight stinging in my cheek. We sat in silence, staring at one another before I cleared my throat.
"Did you just...bitchslap me?" I asked
He gulped before nodding. "Y-yes." He stammered

I burst into a grin, holding my hand up for a high five. "Nice hit, man!" I laughed.
He stared at me silently, his face paler than usual.
I watched him, slowly lowering my hand.

Thomas Chase was generally a nervous person. Yes, he was very outgoing and friendly by nature, yet, he always had a nervous tic. He would panic over the small things: objects on the edge of the counter, loud noises, even the slightest glare would send him into a series of stammering words and nervous jerks of his hands or shoulders.

But this-
This was different.
His eyes were wide, red rimmed. His chest was shuddered as he let out short, ragged breaths. He clenched and unclenched his hands before running his fingers through his hair, slightly pulling on it. His face was white and he lowered one of his hands to rub under his eye repeatedly.