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Little Boy
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Jay trudged through the forest, in a rare moment, silent. He didn't know what to do. It wouldn't be long before the numbers would drop ever lower. 70. 50. The top twenty, the final five. What would happen then? He couldn't abandon Janet. It just wasn't in the cards. How long could he hold out for? All the way to the end? He wasn't sure if he wanted to make it too then. So many good people were dead, it just didn't seem all that fair. He kept the thought to himself as he walked, slightly ahead of Janet. He had no idea where the Cliff-face was, but Janet had pointed him in the direction and he'd begun to walk.

Stupid Danya. Stupid game. Stupid feet, stupid everything.

He breathed out. He wanted desperately to strike up a conversation with Janet, but he had no idea what to say. Maybe they should talk about bands. He always liked band talk. Jay shrugged, opening his mouth and beginning to blather away.

"So, this is a kinda odd question- do you like KISS? I mean- it's an odd question. Considering we're currently in this nightmare world filled with y'know, death and gore and super depressing themes and... I don't know. I think this whole thing would be easier if you liked KISS, y'know? Or- or any band that I'm uh, that I'm familiar with."

He kicked at a broken branch, sending it tumbling into the bush. They walked on.

"S'like. What the fuck else are we going to talk about? How dead everyone is? Hah. I guess bad taste but... yeah. I could never stomach depressing shows. I mean, I tuned into Survival of the Fittest like- once. With Jojo and... I think it was Etain? Yeah. Yeah, it was Etain, I think it was at his house. We were curious right, and uh, I don't think you know her, but this Russia chick, "Bounce" or whatev, she recommended it to us. And we were kinda stoked, but the episode we saw, it was just a few guys walking around and talking, just shooting the shit like we are right now. Early game, probably..."

"Etain and Jojo tuned it out, but I fucking loved it. It wasn't like, some overproduced high brow shit y'know, with kids talking at a university level about God and y'know, philosophy and all that. I think they were debating about.. chess? Or something? It wasn't a scene for the highlight reel, if you get my meaning. Yeah. It was refreshing, but I never watched it again. Because I'm pretty sure they all ended up dying. And I mean, I can stomach blood, but jeez, too depressing. I'd rather sing, y'know, talk real, have a good time, considering there's an audience out there. I was singing earlier. When- when I was with Jojo, before we uh- before we got split up."

He paused temporarily. What had he been talking about originally? KISS.

Right, KISS.

"So I mean, I suck at singing and all that- and we can't really sing, not right now with so many people potentially around, but yeah. If we ever get some downtime, or you're just feeling kinda, y'know, shit...- maybe I can entertain you with that. Keep your spirits up, y'know? 'cus like, I fucking love my voice. I think I'm addicted to talking. I'm so fucking conceited, it's awesome! But yeah, in any case, I hope you like Paul Stanley."

Jay smiled, despite everything that'd happened. He felt pretty good, getting that out there. He opened his mouth, quietly singing to his companion, strumming an air guitar.

"She wears her satins like a lady.... oh, she gets her way, just like a chiiiiiiiild. You take her home, and she says MAYBE. BABY. She takes you down- and she drives you wiiiiiiiilllddd..."

His voice rose as he continued, his strumming growing faster as he went on. He sauntered through the woods, his smile growing. This was something he really needed. A brief respite from all the chaos, if only for a little while. Janet wasn't a killer anymore, he wasn't a coward. They were just two kids, one trying desperately to get in the others pants.

The thought was laughable now, but it just made him all the more happy. He was going to die a virgin. His life sucked, but at least he was chaste.

"'errbody says she's lookin' good! AND THE LADY KNOWS IT'S UNDERSTOOD!"

With dramatic flair and a sudden surge of youthful enthusiasm, Jay jumped forward through a nearby bush, hitting the ground on his knees and scuffing his jeans. He raised one hand up in the air, in a thumbs up gesture, the other still strumming away on his air guitar.


Jay looked up.

His mind stopped working.


Hayley Kelly stood in the clearing, her bruised arms wrapped around a small ginger girl.


He wasn't sure why they were standing so close at first. He knew he should have been concerned at the fact Hayley currently had five kills under her belt. But despite his extraordinarily circumstances, Jay was a teenager first and foremost. All that didn't matter. Especially in the face of hot lesbian make-outs. They didn't notice him at first, as the kiss continued, seeming to never end. He wanted to yell out to her, not in fear or anger, but in joy. He held back, covering his mouth to avoid any more shouting even as his eyes went wide from the glorious sight. They'd notice him eventually, and Hayley would never forgive him for cock blocking her.

But that was a good thing. Despite the pain and the death, and his own inadequacy, it was still the same old Hayley Kelly from back home. Some people had changed, but Danya hadn't turned Hayley into hate-fueled monster. And that made everything slightly more alright. He couldn't wait any longer. He staggered to his knees, a goofy grin on his bright red face. Once more, he had no idea what to say.


Very eloquent.
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Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
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Everyday is like Sunday · Southern Cliffs