Survival Of The Fittest

Thomas sighed.

He wanted to help out Mr. Fraiser... Do something... And Yet...

(Thomas exited the room, feeling awful, and continuing elsewhere)

The sex scene on the screen was going on longer than expected, to which Wade spoke up that he was surprised that the horror club was allowed to watch this in school. There wasn't anything wrong with watching American Psycho, was there?

"What's wrong with that, Wade? This is a horror movie. It's not like we're watching a porno." Mortimer commented, until he heard the door open. Mortimer didn't think it was anyone that important. He was hoping that it was Ray or Mercy, but then he heard her voice.

A voice that spoke in gothic.

"𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖌𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊?"

Mortimer's blood immediately ran cold. It was crystallized in fear. His head spun around so fast, he thought it would cause an aneurysm. He felt his skin go pale.

WHAT IN THE FUCK WAS THE FUCKING PRINCIPAL DOING IN HERE- OH GOD OH SHIT OH FUCK SHIT FUCK BITCH CUNT MOTHERFUCKING SATAN WHORE HELL BROTHER AND SISTER IN ANTICHRIST

In case, you readers obviously didn't know, Mortimer was freaking out at Principal Winegarden. While Mortimer didn't think that Vice Principal "Mario" would show up, he didn't expect the actual principal to arrive. She wasn't evil or anything, but from Mortimer's perspective, lesbians who dress up as goths were just as vicious and homicidal.

Winegarden was focused on Mr. Fraiser, who looked equally terrified.

OH NO, SHE THINKS THAT HE WAS THE ONE WHO WAS SHOWING THE MOVIE!

"UHHHH EMRMMM HMMM UHHHH" Mortimer immediately sat up from Winegarden's command. He couldn't leave immediately. The principal turned off the projector, but Mortimer couldn't leave his laptop behind. Panicked, he immediately went to get his laptop. Which means he was standing directly next to Principal Winegarden. Which also meant that Winegarden now knew that Mortimer was the one who set up the movie in the first place.

She's going to fucking kill me soon. She's going to rip me open and drape my organs at the football stadium as a warning.

Principal Winegarden was obviously shorter than Mortimer, but he was getting the intrusive thought that she was going to go on all fours and maul him to death in the classroom.

"Sorry sorry sorry..." Mortimer was trying not to curse in front of the teacher and principal. Mortimer unplugged the laptop from the projector and made sure the movie stopped playing. He shut off his laptop, slipping it back into his bag. Mortimer tried to take a look at Mr. Fraiser, but he knew that Winegarden was looking at him.

"Guys, come on! We need to leave!" Mortimer ordered.

Why the fuck must this happen!? It's not like I need to have a paper to show-































FUCK, I WAS SUPPOSED TO LET THE OFFICE KNOW IF THE FILM WAS ELIGIBLE FOR PLAYING IN SCHOOL.

"UGHHHHH!!!" Mortimer realization made him let out an anxious moan and sigh, when he dashed out of the clasroom. How did he forget this after Winter Break!? If Principal Winegarden didn't plan on killing Mortimer, Fray-Fray might do that job for him for getting him fired.

((Mortimer's heart rate continues to be rapidly beating elsewhere))

…oh

Oh no.

Wade was straight faced as he got up. He didn’t say a word while gathering his things. He didn’t display the anxious rush of energy Mortimer did. From an outsiders perspective, he was taking it pretty well.

Now, let’s look internally:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

GOD DAMNIT FUCK THE WHOLE CLUB IS SHOT! FRAISER’S GONNA GET FIRED AND THEY’RE GONNA TELL MY PARENTS!

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKKKK!

Externally, though, he was leaving nice and quietly.

((Wade Colter continued in Getting Ready To Rumble ))

Jump cut, like in an old silent film when a magician makes something disappear.

One moment, a girl sitting in a chair.

The next, the same chair, totally empty, displaced a couple inches so it's not quite in the same spot.

No sound, no apparent movement. No clear picture when exactly in the proceedings the chair's occupant had vanished.

((Gemini Jones continued elsewhere))

Welp. That was that. Simon picked up his stuff and left. He was going to have to suggest to his fellow club members that they should have their next meeting at one of their houses.

(Simon Smith, continued elsewhere...)

Closed door. Jump cut. Axial. Brighter lighting, inevitably. Consequence of the fingers of the sun sprinkling a frosty January seasoning over the new character’s skin. The light touched his pasty fat cheeks. Word out on if it penetrated any deeper.

He’d left the opening minutes of cheer practice with a comfortable kiss on Vivian’s cheek and her practice snack left in a generously full baggie in her hand. Her tooth was as sweet as she acted and sounded and looked. Peanut M&M's as an indulgence. Actual peanuts, almonds, pistachios. Dried fruit, blueberries, apricots. Chopped oat milk chocolate. Light sprinkling of salt to activate the sweetness of the spread. He didn’t expect her to practice his lifestyle. Coercion, wrong. But he helped her where she was willing. Influence… gray area. Ray was no moral authority. Merely one of many flawed fleshy bits of sentience. He didn’t seek to be any more of a source of contagion than his own immune system forced him to be during the changing of the seasons.

PDA, for example. Wrong even in moderation, if one considered it to inflict mental distress onto some percentage of onlookers. Could it be avoided? Yes? Ray had full control of his actions as an autonomous being. Maybe? Ray had two people to consider in the equation. Vivian liked it when he kissed her. He liked maximizing her happiness.

Mental distress existed in a lot of forms. He never liked staying around the cheerleaders for long. He didn’t glance their way because of male gaze. But he did glance their way wondering what his life would have been like if he was shorter, if he was prettier, if he could dance in the sky instead of flopping around on the earth. Either way it likely took on the same form of watching the Rattlers in motion a moment too long to be comfortable. Incomplete information between the parties, never to be clarified. No time, no place, no point to apologizing for existing. Even a brief glance could do untold mental damage onto the psyche of a woman trying, rightfully, to decenter men in her life. Better to not stay around. Then the amount of seconds he stared at them was inherently nil.

He knew what he was. He just chose not to acknowledge it. Familismo. Comfort in misery. Avoidance was also a shortcoming. Again, he wasn’t a moral authority. He’d picked the life he wanted to live.

Life of an intruder. Tumor. Cancer. Angiogenesis to steal the blood of society. Gorge ‘til ripe. Swim and slither, thrashing like the unborn, through the aorta. Slow. Slurp. Slurp. Burst out of the chest. Inhuman shape. Grotesque. It was his DNA, the warped and crooked strands. Like two hands holding, all ten dislocated fingers.

Ray, a bit sweaty where the thickness of his hoodie comfortably hid the most knife friendly parts of his neck, closed the distance and opened the door to Mr. Fray’s science class.

Jumpscare.

Got it. Ray closed the door with an unspoken apology.

[+] minnieKatt, Chiller

Yeah. We wait.
Unless you want to take us all down with you? Your prerogative but I’d recommend against it.
Cheer season’s in full swing so. I might be in and out for a while.
Try not to catastrophize while I’m MIA. I’m not dead! Aesthetic as it would be if I were.
Unless I’m dead to you, in which case. Fair enough.

[[Ray Janeczek. Pregame start. Continued elsewhere.]]