"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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Behold, in a world where those with their ribs showing are plagued by muscled villainy! Woe betide the hungry and the famished, unable to put up a struggle to feed themselves! This world holds but ONE hero...

Look, up there, in the sky! Is it a cumulonimus cloud?

It is a sumo wrestler launced by a trebuchet?

Is it the Hindenburg, back from the Zeppelin graveyard?

Is it a total solar eclipse?

No... it is none of those things, for it is... LARDASS MAN! Fighting for adipose tissue and the right to be well fed to the point of severe obesity, no health food or exercise gurus are a match for him! He's slower than a speeding glacier, softer than a pile of jelly donuts, and able to leap several blades of grass in a single bound! Rejoice, for... Lardass man is HERE!


With a choking, gurgling cough, Craig Hoyle woke up from his dream to hear a shattering of glass.

Craig Hoyle, Male Student no. 083 Start

The sun... it was way too bright. Waaaaaaay too bright. Craig squinted his eyes shut as he struggled to sit up, putting a tremendous strain on his chest. This wasn't anything too unusual, though. It was with a great deal of shame that Craig was never able to bend very much, as his chest literally would end up getting blocked by his belly. Yeah, touching his toes in gym class was always a nightmare. At least the gym teachers always stood his story of having a glandular problem.

Unfortunately, the lack of this ability was coming back to bite Craig in the ass. If he were any more coherent, he might have mumbled 'I'm falling and I can't get up!'. It came out as something more along the lines of 'grbbph... beeeghaaa!', his grunts and groans coinciding with his efforts to roll onto this side and push himself up that way. His arms screamed at him, for the sake of all that was holy and even moderately in shape, for him to stop. Craig was notortiously stubborn in his waking moments, though, and manged to at least get his knees under him. Good. That was a good first step.

Craig tried to take in where he was, but his vision was blurred, still. Where were his glasses? Still on his hands and knees, he pawed and groped all over the ground, looking for them. He couldn't see anything with his glasses, and he knew it. A few minutes later, there were still no glasses, and Craig groaned again at the revelation that he might be stuck with just sitting in the front today at school. But if he was in the front, then everybody could look at his rolls, and how much of him hung over the chair and desk. If that happened...

Craig brought his hands to his face in anguish, only to feel two things. First, his wrist pressed against some drool, partially dried and caked around his mouth. Gross. More importantly, however, he felt a bit of cold metal, unmistakable rims...

His glasses had been on his face the whole time.

Feeling a little sheepish, Craig wiped away at his mouth to rid himself of the irritating drool, and began the careful process of standing up. Slowly, sloooowly... he nearly got off of one of his knees before a wave of wooziness, bordering on nausea, set in. Shit... that wasn't good. Craig slammed his hands back down to grip at the dirt, and he began to cough and hack. He aimed to feel like Superman, but was feeling a bit more like Professor X after a beatdown by the Juggernaut. A few moments later, however, the waves passed, and Craig finally found himself on his feet, though he wobbled a bit.

He now had to figure out just where the hell he was. He wasn't nearly awake enough to comprehend the current situation, much less worry about it. There were... some piles of dirt around him, and once he managed to crane his neck down, a duffle-bag looking thing with 'B083' stenciled into it. Looked kind of homely, but something in Craig's mind told him that this was his. Or, if it wasn't his, he could at least hold on to it. Kneeling down and putting all of his strength into the one leg that poised to push off, Craig grabbed the back, took a deep breath, and stood up.

Shit, this thing's heavy! ... No... I'm the juggernaut, I can do this... come on, come on!

Craig muttered more incoherent babble that was supposed to match up with his mental mantra, and he slowly began to walk forward. He didn't really know where he was going at the moment, but his vision was clearing up, and that building nearby looked promising. He could finish waking up in there, where it wasn't so bright. And itchy. But mostly bright.

After getting his goal in mind, he lowered his head, averting his eyes away from the sun. As he navigated through the torn up terrain, he found a body on the ground. Even in his half-awake state, his legs got a bit weak at first. Was he... dead?

No... no, he's breathing. Silly! Why would there be a dead body out here?

Craig took a moment to carefully observe the boy, watching the telltale signs of life. Yeah, his back was definitely rising and falling a little. Not dead, but sort of looked it... about as beat as he was just a few moments ago. Oh... w-wait, that's Trent! Ha... Trent's passed out... don't wanna wake him, though... Craig thought to himself, figuring waking anybody up at any time was usually a bad idea. Taking another deep breath to concentrate, he lifted a foot up, leaned forward, and stepped over the sleeping boy. His other foot was close to follow, and he was free to continue walking to the strange, cabin-like-building just a hop, skip, and sleepy, lurching walk away.
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