Pyrope's Place: Dave Strider (Short Story)

Chapter 9 - The Shittiest Sword Award

"Lil bro, you sure you're leaving?" Bro asked.

"Yeah, it's not like you need me here or anything." Dave answered, he still hadn't forgiven Bro for dumping him on the street like a sack of potatoes.

Even though Bro didn't have a face, it was easy to see the look of concern that passed over it.

"Of course we need you here, Dave! Look, I'm sorry I kicked you out on such short notice but I-" Bro stopped short. Dave glanced up at him.

"Look, I'll show you. Then you'll understand." Bro took Dave's hand, but he wriggled free and walked along beside him.

They walked down the hallway and into Dave's old room. How it had changed! All of Dave's furniture had been cleared out to make room for three huge display cases, filled with very shitty swords. The walls had been painted orange, and the floor was covered with fluffy, pink, sparkly carpeting. Bro had a strange sense of style.

"How do you like it? Wait." Bro interrupted Dave just as he was opening his mouth to tell him it was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen in his life.

Bro walked to a gap between two of the display cases, and gestured for Dave to follow him. Behind the case was a glorified rubbish bin draped with the same carpeting as the floor, acting as a pedestal. On it was the shittiest sword of all time. Dave felt that if he stayed in here much longer, he'd break out in hives.

"This," Bro said, holding his hands out proudly towards the sword, "Is the sword that won me first place."

"First place in what?"

Bro smiled, hardly able to contain himself.

"Lil bro, I wouldn't throw you out if it wasn't for a very important reason. I entered a 'Strange and Unusual Hobby Collections' contest," He stood straight and tried to look very important, which was hard since he was standing next to that godawful sword on the hideous pedestal.

"Dave, you are now looking at the proud and esteemed winner of..." Bro took a small medal out of his pocket. It looked as shitty as the sword that won it.

"The Shittiest Sword Award!"

Dave looked at the medal, then at Bro, and burst out laughing. Bro watched him for a second then started laughing too. When Dave finally stopped himself, they both did a high-five Latula would be proud of. Getting up off the floor that he had fell to in their violent fit of hysterics, Dave said, "Bro, keep the room. It's totally worth it. So ironic."

"Gee, thanks Dave." Bro patted Dave on the back. Dave's phone started beeping, and he took it out. It was a reminder.

"Uh-oh! Bro, I gotta get going. I've got a performance on at Pyrope's Place now!"

"A performance?"

"Sure! I'm gonna sing!"

"Mind if I come? I can call Dirk and Jake's over here."

"The more the merrier!"

As they went up to the door of Dirk's room, they stopped when they heard strange, rhythmic thumping noises and a low moan.

"Uh... I think they won't mind missing it that much..." Bro said. Dave chuckled.

"Alright, let's go!"

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Author's note: I wanted to save the performance for another chapter, so this one's nice and short. And about as sweet as a bitter melon rind. Seriously, those things are disgusting.

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