• Ok, so admittedly putting whipped cream and bologna all over his principal’s car was not a good, idea, but he already had In-School- Detention and had to help clean the halls with the janitor everyday for a full month. He figured that was punishment enough, but using this as an excuse to set him up with some girl?! That’s just below the belt…

    You see, his parents had gotten it into their heads a few years back that he was a badly behaved delinquent and needed help from a female to straighten him out. Of course he laughed in their faces and slammed his bedroom door on them. This wasn’t the end of it though. Month after month since that time, year after year, until now, when he’s finally seventeen, they’ve managed to somehow convince some random girl that she was absolutely smitten with him, and until he decided to quit being nice and finally crushed her hopes in the cruelest way possible, he’d endure it.

    Not to say that he was a bad person, but they’d hang all over him, or cry when he went to hang out with his friends, so what was a guy to do? Drop his plans to placate some delusional girl that he didn’t even like, just so that his parents would leave him alone, and the girls in school wouldn’t think he was such a cold, frozen, black hearted guy? No, actually that doesn’t really sound great at all...

    Well, that’s the gist; the girls in school hate him, his parents still keep coming up with girls somehow, he’s got detention, and now his parents are threatening to send him to military school unless he finds some girl and gets decent friends…

    And now our story starts at this last statement…

    “Oh, Abso-fricken-lootly not,” his eyebrows twitching and blue eyes shining, he stood ready to fend off the world from that catastrophe his parents were cooking up. Said parents were just sitting at the dining room table, lips pursed, as they examined their wayward son. Honestly, it was just a girl…

    His mother, flicking her curly black hair out of her face, biting her lips before speaking, just said quietly, still managing to make herself heard, “…Son… Please…”

    ‘Oh no, how many times has she tried to use that one on me?’ He rolled his eyes, and slouched on the chair he was currently sitting on, choosing instead to tune her out, ‘Every single time they pull me out of whatever I’m doing it has to be for this… You’d think that they’d get the idea that I just don’t like those kinds of girls…’

    The last girl had been a brainless flake, and on several many times he wished that he could just bludgeon her over her head and be done with it. She followed him around, constantly clung to his arm, and it didn’t help that he thought she was completely disgusting; actually, those details shall be left out… bad memories. He involuntarily shivered at the unwanted memory of having her near him.

    “Son are you listening to your mother?!”

    ‘Ouch,’ he rubbed his ears, irritation flickering towards his father… Well, now he’s listening, after that unmanly shout. He smirked gleefully at the image he got of his father being even remotely womanly.

    His father’s name was Mark G. Schwurburg. He was tall, tan and built like a swimmer, his hair was kept short and neat, and you could just say he was the personification of business working upper middle class. The stereotypical dad…

    His mother was small, curly haired, and, as well, tanned. She wore nice clothing and worked as an interior decorator, her name was Carol C. Schwurburg. She didn’t have a single wrinkle on her face, and tended to over worry about her son.

    Now, imagine these two, the huge house they lived in because of their combined incomes, and just go ahead and think of how he would be.

    ‘Well… There are always the labels they give you…’ He thought, flicking his fringe from his eyes. You see, he himself has black hair, like his mother, blue eyes like his father and built the very same way… but as much as his parents prided him on his looks, there’s always something that they don’t like.

    His typical style of clothing often involved tight jeans in many shades of loud, bright colors, or just plain dark blue jean, and some kind of medium tight shirt and hoodie. Right at that moment he was sporting his favorite pair of dark blue jeans, his orange flats, a black shirt with an orange teddy bear head, and an orange and black zip up hoodie with skulls designed on it. His hair was in his face, even though, admittedly, he did keep flicking it out over and over again… ‘Dang things just won’t stay back.’

    “SON!”

    His head jerked back from looking at the floor, to looking at his father, noticing the slightly purpling features, and the twitch he was developing over his right eye. Crap, “uuhh, sure da, Of course I was listening…”

    That twitch just got a lot worse, ´why me...’

    His father grimaced at him and his mother grabbed his arm to calm him. He heaved a large sigh, and replied, “No, you were not. We are getting together with a few families from around this town and the next at the camp grounds this Saturday. You will be there, you will dress appropriately in the clothing that your mother and I bought you, and you will treat the Douthmont’s Daughter with respect, if something were to come from that… then all the better.”

    He glared daggers at his father, his attention finally being grabbed… This Saturday was the day of that party his friends and he were going to, and his father knew that… ‘Oh, this plan is so not happening.’