Moonlight ~ A Study in Stupidity

Chapter 3 ~ Meet the McMotherf*cking Munsters

It was right then and there, sitting in the lame lunchroom, trying to avoid making conversation with seven stupid strangers, that I first saw them! The too cool for school kids. I immediately knew something was up, cause they cat-walked in like they owned the place. They even had a bitchen soundtrack playing for their grand entrance into the lame lunchroom. 

There were five of them, two chicks and three dicks. And they breezed in like they own the place and sat down in the furthest corner of the Cafe away from everyone. Just took over the obvious best spot in the back corner against the wall, that was normally reserved for numeric neck tattoo gang members on parole. AKA the coolest local loco kids in any school.

They were all decked out in white and every one of them was pale ASF. They were clearly palest of all the lily whites living in this sunless shithole. They were way paler than me to the point of invisibility, like almost translucent and shit? Which I figured being this far North probably marked them as Canadians ...the filthy fucking Frosties. 

I noticed that the two chicks in their little frostback clique were like total opposites. The tall statuesque one looked like an escaped runway meth model from Milan. She had a platinum blonde ponytail down the middle of her back to her Kardashianeque a$$ crack. Rocking a pair of perfectly proportionate perky pretty tits, like the fake kind you only saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, but real? She was the kind of bitch made every other chick around her take a hit on her self-esteem just for not having a sex tape in circulation.

The other bitch was shorter skeleton skinny Emo pixie chick, with super sharp features. Her hair was dyed deep blood-red black and cropped super short and pointing in every direction. She kinda reminded me a little of an electrocuted super slutty elf for whatever reason? She had almost no tatas to speak of, but you could instantly tell she knew her way around a truckstop Buck-a-Blow ...such a totes Snowflake!  

Of the three boys, one was seriously buff ASF! Super muscled, like a serious weight lifter, with black hair and a wicked suggestive smirk of a Satanist. The second boy toy was a tall, lean, and wiry and had about zero expression, kind of like a serial killer. But a hot honey blond and by his swishy sashay probably super glee gay ...or not? Cause as I had already learned from the lesbians this morning, Forking gay was clearly not the same as High Desert gay. So it was probably best not to make too many assumes about him so soon. Cause when you make assumes, you make an A$$ out of U and ME. (So totally just misspelled ass-u-me with an a$$, get it?)    

But the last boy was lanky loser, with messy bronze-colored hair, the color of bad bowling alley bathroom floor bloodstains. He was a bit more boyishly broken in than the others, and clearly target for pedophile priests. This poor kid practically screamed alter boyish good looks and an eager willingness to take candy from random strangers.  

I could tell right away that they all thought they were cool ASF. Props cuz they were so cold they were ignoring everyone ...including each other. But the thing that struck me as off about these creepy cold kids? Was that they weren't gawking at me or my hot yoga ass at all, unlike all the other forktards. Like they were too cool even for me ...and not the other way around!?! And I have to admit that just for a second ...they had me doubting my innate awesomeness. But as I learned a long time ago in NLV, a second can be very short ...and sloppy.

So I side-eyed at the beautiful honey blonde boy toy, trying to figure out his rainbow orientation. Who was trying to play with his food now, picking a bagel to pieces with his long pale fingers. But suddenly the skinny one looked at me, for just a fraction of a second. His dark eyes flickered to mine, then he looked away more quickly than I could. Then his mouth was started moving a mile a minute, as his perfect punchy lips barely opened. The other foul four still looked away, and yet somehow I knew he was talking about me? The question was ...was he talking trash or was he talking about my awesome ass?