Survival Of The Fittest

Silver Springs.

One of these homes was the Bissette residence, owned by the hard working Jean and Marguerite Bissette. Most people who could catch them know them as lovely people.

Their son, Chester. Not so much.

Inside the house was a complete mess. Shattered dishes on the floor, the kitchen countertop and shards in the sink. Chairs flipped on their back as the kitchen table covering is bunched up on the ground. There was a small crack on the wall next to a door, the size of a doorknob.

And inside of Chester Bissette’s room wasn’t much better.

His computer was faced down on the floor, surrounded by the various dirty clothes, empty bottles, cans and food wrappers that were littered around the room. And laying on the large and worn out bed was Chester Bissette himself. He laid sprawled out, the blanket barely covering his body as he stared up at the ceiling, his mouth slightly open with large bags under his eyes.

Finally.

The fireworks stopped.

He can get some sleep.

Knock knock knock!

"Hey Chester, it's Claude, open up!" A familiar sounding deep voice called out from right outside the Bisette residence. The cold weather had the young Claude don an appropriate ensemble, consisting of a leather jacket worn over a blue hoodie with cargo pants and Adidas sneakers, as well as a pair of old leather gloves to ensure his hands were all nice and toasty.

Normally, since his friends parents weren't home often, Claude would usually try to get Chester to open the door for him... but the chances of that happening are very slim.

This just wouldn't do for the tall baseball player. After a moment debating with himself on what the next course of action should be, Claude simply grabbed ahold of the doorknob and twisted it open, surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, in Chester's case) it was unlocked. The door was slowly pulled open and what Claude saw inside could only really be described as the aftermath of a natural disaster.

As Claude traversed across the mansion in a careful manner so as to not crush or break anything that was on the floor (not like most of which was already broken), he made his way towards the room of the culprit. The door being slightly open with a crack made things easier for Claude as he stepped inside...

...only to almost get knocked out flat by the smell, "Je ne me suis toujours pas habitué à cette odeur horrible, mec!" ("I still haven't gotten used to this horrific stench, dude!") He said to himself before he slowly began to brave the trash jungle that was Chester's room. "Come on, Chester, time to get up and go outside and do something productive." Claude spoke kindly to the mess of a blob that was his friend, Chester.

He waited to hear what Chester had cooked up in response to his demands; if he didn't want to do anything, then it was highly likely that Claude would have to drag him out of the house or even carry him.

Claude”s voice made Chester’s head screech like a record player, and he blinked.

The cuban missile crisis was a 13 day long confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union taking place in October 1962. The United States sent nuclear missiles to Italy and Turkey, while The Soviet Union sent their mussels to Cuba. Historians consider the Cuban Missile Crises the closest call of a nuclear war…

….And unfortunately for Bissette, that didn’t happen. And now Claude gets to see him in his state. Thanks a lot JFK.

Bissette’s head rolls to the side, staring at his friend with an annoyed expression “You know, why don’t you just move in here if you wanna just walk into the house?” He says with a sarcastic tone as he grabbed his head, feeling a headache coming on.