Fourth day of school.
It was the year's first scheduled meeting of the literature club. I was standing nervously outside the clubroom door.
"Hello?" I called out while knocking. "Hello?" I called out again. "Hellooooo?" I said louder, my knocking on the door becoming louder as well.
"Dude, chill."
A feminine voice said from behind me. I turned around to see a girl whose height must have been at 4'11" or 5'0" with chest-length brown hair and green eyes. "Long time no see, Nishii."
Nishii. That was a nickname I got back in elementary school. I forgot who started calling me that but my twin sister Kizuko didn't really stop calling me that up until now. (Even though she can technically be called Nishii as well.)
The short girl looked at me and pointed at the sign above the door I was knocking on for the last ten minutes. "You signed up for the literature club, right?" She asked me.
I nodded, but she facepalmed and continued pointing up at the sign. My eyes, however, focused on a sign above a door opposite that of the one I was standing in front of.
Written on the sign in Kanji: Literature Club.
"HOLY CRAP THE LITERATURE CLUBROOM IS OVER THERE." I shouted in surprise. The short girl looked like she had enough of my bullshit, with the expression on her face clearly saying: "Wow, you noticed only now?"
"What club is this though?" I asked the girl who bluntly replied.
"The fight club."
"WHAT THE FUCK!?" I shouted in fear. I've heard plenty of rumors about the school fight club. Some say that the club president was a massive being capable of breaking through a vault of solid steel with only a flick of his fingers. Of course the story sounds like absolute bullshit, but it's still scary if it were true.
The girl cracked up at my reaction. "Of course it's not the fight club, idiot." She told me. "It's the Survival Game Club." She held her right hand out like a peace sign as she grinned at me. "Don't worry!"
"Who was knocking?"
Both the girl and I were surprised to hear a very menacing and deep voice that suddenly spoke. We both turned our attention towards the door of the Survival Game Club. It was open as a tall and scary figure loomed upon us. It was a guy wearing a gasmask and a long black trench coat over what seems to be a normal uniform with the red tie that meant he was in third year.
He took his gas mask off and smiled at me calmly. From what I could see, his hair was reddish-brown. "Who was knocking and shouting like an idiot earlier?" He said with a tone of voice different from when he was wearing his mask, alternating his gaze between me and the girl.
The girl pointed at me and the tall boy nodded, putting his gas mask back on. He raised something up to his shoulders and I yelped in surprise. I almost thought it was an actual gun, like a deadly weapon, pew-pew blam-blam, gas-operated, German submachine gun type of gun. But after noticing the large spherical canister on top, I realized it was a paintball gun. WHICH IS STILL SCARY AND PAINFUL, BY THE WAY.
"That's a paintball gun, right?!" I said as I pointed at it.
The boy simply put his finger on the trigger and spoke in a very menacing and creepy voice. "Welcome to your execution."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH HELL NO!"
I screamed and ran towards the literature clubroom, sliding the door open and closing it behind me as I panted.
YOU ARE READING
Joining the Literature Club was a bad idea.
UmorismoKenji Nishimura is a student in his second year of high school. After living his first year uneventfully, he decided to join a club- -ah screw it, I suck at crappy expositions like this. "It would be fun." I said. "It won't be boring." Welp.
