inconspicuous

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Warnings: swearing and cutie innocent ron bc i love him thx

My natural aptitude for being a complete and utter fuck up is really starting to affect my ability to socialize like a real fucking human being.

I wish I was exaggerating, but walking into the Anderson's household and talking to Mrs. Anderson herself, made me want to blow chunks. This was far from desirable, considering I drank at least a half gallon of powdered chocolate milk prior to my visit.

Her son, Ron, had wanted to talk more since our little chat on the porch the day before, and had invited me over to play video games. How anyone had time to play games, let alone be good at them, I had no idea. I could hardly remember the last TV show I'd watched, or even what games I used to play. It was all part of my past-life heartache; all repressed memories.

Yet, here I was, watching this kind hearted, yet painfully stupid, boy tumble down the stairs in a fit of excitement at his mother's call of,

"Ron, Carl's here!"

He looked stuck dumb with surprise at my presence in his kitchen, and gawked for a split second before coming to his senses.

Of course. He hadn't thought I'd actually come.

I began to regret my decision even more, if possible. Maybe he hadn't REALLY wanted me to come over and was just trying to appear welcoming. Maybe he didn't actually give a fuck about getting to know me, but if this was true, he didn't voice it, welcoming me with a slight stutter of shock in his voice.

I just smiled and answered their every question with a 'yes' or a 'no'. Thankfully, they caught on relatively quickly that I was not much for talking.

And thus, began the hard part.

Ron, being the friendly boy he is, led me upstairs to the match of player on player battles he'd promised me. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't the cardboard box of first person shooter games that he dragged from his closet.

This had to be a sick joke, I swore it. Some kind of stupid prank. But, he told me about each game in detail, apparently obvious to the disgusting irony he was presenting me with.

I quickly came to the conclusion that he had no idea how fucked up each game was to me after living through multiple situation that were painfully similar to the 'shoot em up' genre. After a few deep breaths, I smiled and picked a game for us to play. We sat down, and he showed me the controls.

I'd have to grit my teeth.

ONE EYED BOY [C. Grimes][Rarl]Where stories live. Discover now