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Jeremy always kinda wished his life were a little bit more exciting.

He wished that there was a little more action around here, some variety. Something that would give life a little more spark and make each day different. He supposed that was due to the constant manga he read during grade five. The early exposure to it probably made him want to emulate it, which led to him becoming the way he was. Chained to the ground while trying to float away, that was Jeremy Frasier, or something like that.

So when Darius Van Dyke - A person that shared Jeremy’s interests but who Jeremy couldn’t be friends with because he was a massive dickface - announced that he was going to throw a snowball at him, something awoke inside him. Well, not really, but he kinda felt ready for it, in a way. The snowball went towards his crotch, but he had moved in time so that his dick didn’t get hit.

He didn’t dodge it entirely though, and he felt something hit his leg. He fell, sticking his hands out in front of him to cushion his blow. They hit the concrete, and scrape across it slightly. He stayed there, feeling something going through him. Exhilaration? Maybe, maybe not. He wasn’t sure about that.

He was sure about one thing, though. He was going to fucking kill Darius.
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Don't Eat the Yellow Snow · Memories from the Past