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((Michael Crowe continued from Screamer, Screamer, He's a Dreamer ))

Michael hated cellphones with a passion. For an invention that has improved technology greatly, it's bastard son is fucking worthless. Like comparing a hard working buisness ceo to his worthless 30+ year old stay at home kid. You call someone, someone else is already talking to them, or their phone's off. Nobody wants to call, that's inconvenient, but typing full fledged messages out filled to the brim with three or four letter acronyms? Apparently that is convenient. On the rare occasion that someone calls you, your phone's either dead, or it's a fucking telemarketer. Duhh helow wuld yu like to sampool sum naturaw maw enlurgemint pillz! Michael didn't need some jagoff on the phone telling him his Johnson was little, let alone someone who can't even speak American well enough to say it in a way that's not more broken than Steven Seagal's acting career. Not like his little Richard was that little or anything... He wasn't well endowed to be quite honest, but fuck at least he didn't suffer from micropenis. He wasn't ashamed of being an inch or so under the average.

Still point at hand, cellphones are garbage. He wanted to see if Jonathan was open to do anything after work, but Michael's phone died shortly after leaving school. Guess he should have charged it. Fuck it, Michael liked talking to people in person anyways. Talking in person was nice. He figured he'd cut through the skate park. Maybe he'd find someone else to talk to on the way there. He had all day to get there to be honest. He was sure Jonathan didn't get off of work for at least three more hours. Still, he should have charged his phone once he got home. He couldn't blame the cellphone on this one. Still, that's basically a 1-100, the cellphone was still winning in terms of fail counts.

Well, there's two people he knew a little ways down. There's good buddy Darius, and... oh, Brendan. Speaking of problems involving cellphones. With people so used to talking to words on a screen, they forget how to act normal in normal civilization. Case in point, Darius waving to him like a good samaritain. How does Brendan reply to this act of kindness? Not even replying back with a hello, or good day, Brendan was just barely flopping his limp noodlefuck arm up as if to say I acknowledge you, but you're not worth my time. That wasn't very nice. Well, if anything Michael could do something about it. He was great at turning the socially awkward into people you, uhhh fuck what's the word? Non-socially awkward people...? Michael didn't know what fucking word it is to use when describing non-socially stunted individuals. Fuck it, the point he was trying to make is he should be a Drill Sergeant or something. Like the guy in Full Metal Jacket. Wait no, not that guy he died. Fuck, well maybe a little bit like him, he was pretty cool.

Michael had managed to catch up to Brendan, placing a hand on his shoulder. Brendan turned to face him. Michael simply gave his rehearsed shit-eating grin and asked, nay, told him "Hey buddy, you're gonna say hi back right? Kinda' fuckin' rude to jus' brush him off like that..." His gaze shifted to Darius, whom he gave a quick nod. I got your back homeboy!
Edited by ToxieTheToxicAvenger, May 19 2016, 12:55 AM.
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A Magnet For Trouble · Desert Plains Skate Park