Random as fuck pick up line narrative for school
I don't like it, but I don't hate it. It's just weird. And random. Have fun reading? I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY SIDE AFFECTS OF BAD WRITING. OKAY? OKAY.
I HATE WRITING IN FIRST PERSON RBFKdbfivsg
The Hell of Pick-up Lines
“Pika pika!” the television blasted as Pikachu called out and proceeded to shock another Pokémon. It was a Squirtle, its blue-green, turtle-shaped outline on the screen blurring while my eyelids started drooping lower and lower. The midday sun shined through the white curtains, but even with the the window opened, the heat was still getting to my head. It didn’t take long for sleep to overtake me as I tuned out the sounds coming from the television.
DREAM
As I stirred, maybe an hour later, awoken by the strange, dreamy feeling that seemed to have enveloped me, a strong breeze blew through the window. It was mystifying since I could clearly see the air as it traveled around the room, and as it neared me, I reached out towards it.
Goosebumps appeared on my arms at the sudden chill the breeze brought, and a voice called out, “You!” through the windows. I jumped, surprised that someone would address me through my bedroom window. Scrambling as I roughly combed though my hair with my fingers, I peeked out to see a boy staring at me with brown hair but strangely, through closed eyes. He had a backpack on and a wooden staff in his right hand. Oddly enough, he had an uncanny resemblance to a certain character from the show that I had been watching.
“Who are you?” I inquired cautiously.
“I am Brock, but you can call me Honey,” he said with a friendly smile, though it was slightly creepy, especially with the latter
part of his introduction.
“What?” I blinked and my eyes widened. I shook my head in disbelief. “Right, and you’re from Pokemon.” My voice was dripping with sarcasm, but there was a hint of uncertainty in it.
His smile grew. “Of course I am!” he exclaimed as he struck a pose with his hands on his hips and face tilted up causing me to snort. It wasn’t until he took out a Pokéball and a giant snake-like creature made of rocks ( I recall it being an Onix) appeared from it did reality finally catch up to me. I took a step back from the window, obviously intimidated by the enormous creature, but Brock only called it back and returned it to his Pokeball.
“I... Um. Okay,” I stuttered, still in shock and not sure what to say. “W-what do you want?”
“Well, come down here first.” While I was taught never to talk to strangers, my curiosity was driving me crazy (and then I wondered if I wasn’t already insane since all that had happened so far was beyond normal). So I reluctantly left my room and stepped out the door, leaving it unlocked in case I needed to bolt back in if he turned out to be a rapist or something. “Let us,” he began dramatically, “begin our journey to learn of the horrors of pick-up lines!”
He regarded me with his closed eyes, and as I followed him towards the big tree in my front yard, a sudden gray fog started to form, partially obscuring my vision. I stopped, shivering as the fog’s long arms wrapped around me, causing me to become wary of my guide.
“Why are we doing that?” I asked.
Brock opened his mouth to answer, but paused as a clap of thunder interrupted him and startled me. Then he said, “To cure your boredom, of course.” I was about to ask him what that was supposed to mean when, without warning, he pushed me towards the tree.
I flailed my arms wildly, but instead of face-planting into the tree as I had anticipated, I found myself stumbling into darkness, landing on my bottom when I tripped over a rock. As my eyes adjusted to the sudden loss of light, I realized that I was in a cave. Okay, this is getting freaky, I thought to myself.
“Welcome,” Brock booms from behind me, “to the Hell of Pick-Up Lines.” He grins. “And our journey shall begin here.”
I groaned, a daunting feeling overcoming me as I mentally berated myself for getting into this mess. “This is not the reality that I wanted,” I muttered just as Brock pulled me up from the ground and tugged at my arm to lead me through a tunnel.
LEVEL ONE
What had previously sounded like faint whispers of air currents while I was in the tunnel amplified when I emerged to find myself in another cave. It was then that I realize that the sounds I had heard were really human voices as my ears picked up incoherent babbling.
“Where are we?” I asked my guide who had stopped a few feet in front of me. He had a candle in his hand, though I noticed that there were torches held up along the walls. I looked at him questioningly.
He tilted his head, as if he was trying to hear something and answered, “We are in the first circle of the Hell of Pick-Up lines.”
“..Oh. So what’s with the whispering voices?”
Brock shook his head and pointed up, and I tilted my head back, my eyes widening as they met with countless other eyes.
“The first level of pick-up line users are the confusing ones. If they don’t end up getting a slap in the face, then they probably get a ‘What?’ in return because they don’t make sense at all,” Brock explained as I stared at the various faces with babbling mouths.
“What are they saying?” I strained my ears to hear and was surprised that I could pick up lines like, “You look just like my mother. I like my mother” and “If you were yogurt, would you be the fruit on the bottom or stirred?”
“They’re repeating pick-up lines all at once, so that they’re barely understandable, much like the lines they had used...”
I nodded just as a voice, louder than the rest, called out to us. I looked up again, this time more to the right, to see a guy with sandy-brown hair and a finger up his nose. I made a disgusted face. “Who are you?”
“Who am I? Who am I?” he repeated back at me, sounding (and looking) like he had lost a few screws in his head, though I suppose with being hung upside-side down like that, it could be possible. “I’m just a guy who said ‘If you were a booger, I’d pick you,’ but the girl just dumped her drink on me,” he continued in a monologue. It was as if he had forgotten about us and was off in his own world.
Brock chuckled beside me. “Since their pick-up lines confused others, they’re all a bit loose in the head, confusing to even themselves. They tend to get stuck in their minds because of that.”
“...Oh,” I replied back intelligently just as Brock pulled me away towards a rocky wall covered in moss. He reached out and pulled at a reddish object, and I realized it was a rusted door handle. At first he had only pulled gently, but when it was obvious that the door was not going to budge, he started to pull at the door harder. He stopped a few more tries later, leaning against it, about to complain, when he fell back. The door was supposed to be pushed, not pulled. I heard him groan in embarrassment as he stood up again.
LEVEL TWO
“Are you all right?” we heard a raspy voice ask from the shadows. The only source of light was from the opening of the cave and our candle, which was rapidly turning into a puddle of wax.
Brock held out his staff to block me from moving. “Who’s there?”
“Come closer so you may see me,” the voice said, and we took a few steps forward, the candlelight melting away the shadows as we ventured in. We began to see various disfigured creatures along the walls as we moved closer to the voice. A few more steps, and we were standing in front of a man who only came up to my waist. Brock held the diminishing candle in the man’s face, and I saw the reason why he had told us to find him instead of meeting us himself. He had no legs, just stumps hidden by the pants he was wearing. “I can see you,” he commented cheekily.
I snorted. “Uh, yeah. We see you too.”
“Great! Then how about tomorrow?”
Honestly, it was pretty lame, and I wondered how he had the guts to still say those lines when he was already in Hell. “...Uh. No,” I retorted.
“Oh.” He shrugged. “That was lame, wasn’t it? I guess this is why I ended up like this,” the man muttered and gestured to his stumps.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I interjected as I pieced the puzzle together. “Let me guess, this is the level for telling lame lines!” I turned to Brock excitedly. “And in return for telling those lines, they become lame themselves?”
And suddenly, before Brock could reply, another body had thrown itself at him, causing the both of them to land roughly on the ground and the candle to start flying across the room. I screamed just as it landed, expecting the land to catch on fire, but it extinguished upon impact. It was dimmer without the candlelight, but I could still see due to the light that flowed in through the opened door.
“Oh, it landed on a ‘water’ puddle. Someone was probably too happy to see you,” a high-pitched voice chortled lamely. I turned around to see a woman with no arms sit up on Brock’s back and rolled my eyes at the innuendo behind her words. “Hey there,” she purred to Brock. “the voices in my head told me to come over and talk to you.”
He replied back, “Sure thing, Sweetheart, but you have to let me stand up first to carry a dandy conversation.” I gagged at the cavity-inducing tone he used to speak to her.
“Ah, right.” She slowly started to move off of him, but with the lack of arms, it took quite a while. I was about to help her up when Brock (who had somehow gotten up without my noticing) shoved her to the ground and grabbed my arm, taking off to the right.
“Sorry, she would have kept us there we don’t get away now,” Brock muttered as an explanation. I had no idea where we were going as I blindly followed by guide. When I suddenly felt myself stepping on air and then dropping very abruptly, I screamed until my lungs were hoarse.
LEVEL THREE
We landed with a very loud splash as I felt my entire body become engulfed in cold water that stung my skin. I gasped for breath as I broke through the surface of the water, my eyes squinting in the poorly lit area. “Brock? Where are-- ow!” I felt a hand pull at my hair and turned around, ready to kick my attacker, but I stopped shortly when I saw it was Brock. I slapped his hand. Hard. “Keep your hands away from my hair,” I snapped.
He coughed as he waved wildly for me to follow him before swimming off towards the only piece of land I saw. I flopped onto the ground the moment I was able to pull myself out of the water, my nose wrinkling as I wondered why everything smelled like cheese.
“Hey, are you okay?” Brock asked next to me, looking like he was about to faint.
“Am I okay?” I repeated back at him, and suddenly, I felt anger and a surge of panic rise up from my guts. “Oh, I don’t know, would I be okay after being brought down to some stupid Hell about pick-up lines by a fictional character who can’t even open his eyes?” I saw him flinch, but continued to rant. “And then I meet all these weird creeps who use the lamest pick-up line I have ever heard. And if that’s not enough, my guide then pulls me with him into a some thousand feet drop into icy water and expect me to be okay? Do I look okay? Because I know my mind isn’t right now.” I was breathing roughly again, glaring at Brock, who only gave me a timid smile.
“About time for you to snap, huh,” he said and nodded his head to himself. “I suppose it’s better than freaking out when we’re at the last level.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, looking down, ashamed when he didn’t reprimand me for making fun of his eyes. He patted my arm.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get out of this alive.”
“Right,” I mumbled, exhausted and cold. I wasn’t too sure of his words, but it wasn’t like we could get out the way we came. I looked at the water and grimaced. No way was I going back in there. I sniffed, eyes watery as I wallowed in my own misery, and the strong smell reached my nose. “What’s with the cheesy smell?” As I stood up, my clothes made a squishing noise, and I frowned.
Brock pointed towards an enormous pool surrounded by torches.When I finally found the energy to pick myself off the ground and walk towards it, my jaw dropped as I stared at the yellow and almost gooey-but-more-watery substance bubbling out of the pot. I gasped when I started seeing human hands and feet and an occasional head appear from the opening, my ears
twitching at the screams that came from it.
I let out a tiny scream when a pale hand with gooey cheese clinging onto its fingers slapped onto the edge of the pool. Another hand joined it as the person started to pull himself up, though the lower half of his body remained in the pool. I was pretty sure I looked like a gaping fish when I recognized the squarish face, pale and menacing, though the effect was ruined by the cheese that clung to his hair. “Edward Cullen?” I turned to Brock, torn between laughing at the hilarity of the situation or being mortified at the sight.
“Am I dead?” he asked in no one in particular. I supposed he was hallucinating about Bella. “Because I think I just met an angel.” As I keened at the cheesiness of his line, he was once again pulled away by the force of the bubbling cheese.
“So let me guess,” I started, chuckling. “The cheesy ones get boiled by cheese?”
“Yep, forever boiled in cheese. At least they won’t have to starve!” He started to walk around the pool, and I followed him carefully. I thought I heard a “I want all of you. Forever. Everyday” along the way, which cause me to laugh when I recognized the line from The Notebook.
LEVEL FOUR
“Where are you going now?” I asked, but I didn’t need an answer when my eyes settled on rows of people lined up face to face with another person, reciting pick-up lines, while slapping each other. Their bodies were stuck in solidified cheese, the only thing showing were their heads and a free hand. Both body parts for each person were swollen, and I was sure some of them were bleeding.
“Bond. James Bond.” Slap. “Bond. James Bond.” Slap. “Bond. James Bond.” I was not surprised to see said man standing there, repeating his line in between each slap. Barney Stinson, a well-known player from the show How I Met your Mother, was across from him.
“You had a terrible fall. ‘Cause I can swear you fell straight out of heaven!” Slap. “You had a terrible fall. ‘Cause I can swear you--”
“And this is where all the cliches go. Since it’s been used so many times, they just end up repeating it over and over again like a broken record.” He continued to walk around the pool, and I followed him while cringing, a migraine slowly forming from hearing “Hello, I'm a thief, and I'm here to steal your heart” and “I lost my number. Can I have yours?” repeatedly.
LEVEL FIVE
When the sounds of slapping flesh and repeated pick-up lines were well behind us, we came across a set of stairs that led down into darkness. There was an arch above it, and a worn sign that read, “Beware of STDs.”
I froze, giving Brock a pointed look. “STDs?”
He rubbed his neck. “Er... yes. Well, the fifth level. How should I put it...” I glared, forcing him to continue. “Well, it’s the largest level. It’s um, full of people who use innuendo and pick-up lines that could border on sexual harassmentt.”
“So they get STDs as a punishment?” When he nodded, I almost kicked him in the crotch. “And you want me to go down there?” I screeched, my voice sounding a bit hysteric. “I am not doing down to a pit full of disgusting diseases just because some people wanted to get laid.”
Brock twitched nervously and tried to placate me. “Don’t worry, you won’t be infected! It’s only for those who committed the sin!”
There was an awkward silence save for the faint sound of slapping behind us. Brock fidgeted, waiting for me to make my decision. “Okay. Fine.” I could see my guide brighten up. “But,” I hurriedly added, “if anything happens, I swear I will skin you alive and then throw you down there with the rest of them.” The boy nodded, shuddering at the thought as he searched in his bag for another candle, and it didn’t take him long to have one lit. I followed him down the stairs, my eyes straining to see where I was placing my feet.
Upon reaching the final step, I heard a familiar voice say, “You know, these clothes do not flatter you at all, it should be a dress or nothing, I happen to have no dress down here.” Brock held his candle further out, and I could barely contain my laughter when I saw Captain Jack Sparrow leaning against a wall with a bottle of rum in his hand. I looked down at my wet clothes and shrugged, ignoring the suggestive wink he gave me.
I didn’t think he’d be down here, I thought, amused. “So what kind of STDs do you have?” I asked, though it did seem quite rude. Then again, he was a pirate.
The captain groaned. “Why must you ask, my dear?” He pushed off the pole and attempted to walk closer ,but Brock held out his staff and blocked him. “Aye, your friend there does not like me.” He eyed the staff. “ This poor man is already suffering from gonorrhea, I do not need a beating from him.” Walking back in his drunken swagger, he bade us farewell, wiggling his fingers to wave at us. “Very well, I suppose I should be on my way now.”
We watched the captain stagger away, wincing when he tripped over his once feet and landed on his face. I huffed at Brock. “Aw, you didn’t even let us continue our conversation.”
“Yeah, well, I’d face not risk being skinned by you and then tossed down here.”
“What, I think you’d become great friends with Jack!” I retorted with fake enthusiasm as Brock led me further into the cave. As we continued in, I heard many pained groans from around us. A pungent smell of rotting flesh hit my nose, and I covered it immediately, ready to let the contents in my stomach out if I continued to smell it.
“Oh my, let’s get you out of these wet clothes,”a voice said from behind me. My guide and I whipped around, and I screamed when I saw Austin Power’s lecherous grin. I grabbed Brock’s staff and swung, causing the man to stumble backwards to avoid getting hit. I hid behind Brock when he took a step toward us again. “They’d look great in a heap on my bedroom floor,” he continued.
Scoffing, I retorted, “What bedroom floor? You’re in Hell.”
“Oh? Well, I could always take you there if you don’t believe me,” he replied, his hands reaching out to grab me just as I hit them with Brock’s staff. I hit him in the crotch next, hoping that he had herpes or something that would contribute even more to his pain.
“Uh, Bro--” I didn’t even finish before Brock was pulling me away. A sense of déjà vu filled me as we ran away from Austin.
“Hey, we aren’t going to--” I never finished my sentence because I was already on thin air, screaming even louder than the previous time. My vision went black, the last thing I saw was the fire on Brock’s candle extinguish.
END DREAM
I opened my eyes wide as I hit the floor, my screamed muffled by the pillows and blanket that followed after me. I sat up quickly, gasping for air, and looked at my surroundings and sank back to the floor when I found myself in my room. “So it was a dream,” I muttered, groaning into the carpet. I wrinkled my nose when I realize that my clothes were damp, the scent of sweat filling up my room. “Arg, why would I even dream about something like that?”
Another breeze filtered into the room, and I remembered what a certain closed-eyed boy had once said to me in my dream.
“To cure your boredom, of course.”
“That.” I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. “I don’t think I’ll want to be bored for the next few weeks.” I turned to the TV and stared at it, though Pokémon had ended a while ago. “I think I’ll have to lay off on the cartoons too.”
Jumping when I heard my phone ring, I struggled to untangle myself from my blanket as I searched for the electronic. “Hello?”
I breathed into the mic, once I had picked myself off the floor and walked to my closet, searching for some fresh clothes.
“Are you free tonight, or will it cost me?” a voice said through the speakers.
“Oh my god, not now,” I replied, not bothering to listen as my friend tried to continue talking. I pressed the end call button and threw the phone on my bed.
LA FIN.
Okay, anyway. I need to go back to studying because I am obviously going to fail exams fml fdsihgdsfda
I HATE WRITING IN FIRST PERSON RBFKdbfivsg
The Hell of Pick-up Lines
“Pika pika!” the television blasted as Pikachu called out and proceeded to shock another Pokémon. It was a Squirtle, its blue-green, turtle-shaped outline on the screen blurring while my eyelids started drooping lower and lower. The midday sun shined through the white curtains, but even with the the window opened, the heat was still getting to my head. It didn’t take long for sleep to overtake me as I tuned out the sounds coming from the television.
DREAM
As I stirred, maybe an hour later, awoken by the strange, dreamy feeling that seemed to have enveloped me, a strong breeze blew through the window. It was mystifying since I could clearly see the air as it traveled around the room, and as it neared me, I reached out towards it.
Goosebumps appeared on my arms at the sudden chill the breeze brought, and a voice called out, “You!” through the windows. I jumped, surprised that someone would address me through my bedroom window. Scrambling as I roughly combed though my hair with my fingers, I peeked out to see a boy staring at me with brown hair but strangely, through closed eyes. He had a backpack on and a wooden staff in his right hand. Oddly enough, he had an uncanny resemblance to a certain character from the show that I had been watching.
“Who are you?” I inquired cautiously.
“I am Brock, but you can call me Honey,” he said with a friendly smile, though it was slightly creepy, especially with the latter
part of his introduction.
“What?” I blinked and my eyes widened. I shook my head in disbelief. “Right, and you’re from Pokemon.” My voice was dripping with sarcasm, but there was a hint of uncertainty in it.
His smile grew. “Of course I am!” he exclaimed as he struck a pose with his hands on his hips and face tilted up causing me to snort. It wasn’t until he took out a Pokéball and a giant snake-like creature made of rocks ( I recall it being an Onix) appeared from it did reality finally catch up to me. I took a step back from the window, obviously intimidated by the enormous creature, but Brock only called it back and returned it to his Pokeball.
“I... Um. Okay,” I stuttered, still in shock and not sure what to say. “W-what do you want?”
“Well, come down here first.” While I was taught never to talk to strangers, my curiosity was driving me crazy (and then I wondered if I wasn’t already insane since all that had happened so far was beyond normal). So I reluctantly left my room and stepped out the door, leaving it unlocked in case I needed to bolt back in if he turned out to be a rapist or something. “Let us,” he began dramatically, “begin our journey to learn of the horrors of pick-up lines!”
He regarded me with his closed eyes, and as I followed him towards the big tree in my front yard, a sudden gray fog started to form, partially obscuring my vision. I stopped, shivering as the fog’s long arms wrapped around me, causing me to become wary of my guide.
“Why are we doing that?” I asked.
Brock opened his mouth to answer, but paused as a clap of thunder interrupted him and startled me. Then he said, “To cure your boredom, of course.” I was about to ask him what that was supposed to mean when, without warning, he pushed me towards the tree.
I flailed my arms wildly, but instead of face-planting into the tree as I had anticipated, I found myself stumbling into darkness, landing on my bottom when I tripped over a rock. As my eyes adjusted to the sudden loss of light, I realized that I was in a cave. Okay, this is getting freaky, I thought to myself.
“Welcome,” Brock booms from behind me, “to the Hell of Pick-Up Lines.” He grins. “And our journey shall begin here.”
I groaned, a daunting feeling overcoming me as I mentally berated myself for getting into this mess. “This is not the reality that I wanted,” I muttered just as Brock pulled me up from the ground and tugged at my arm to lead me through a tunnel.
LEVEL ONE
What had previously sounded like faint whispers of air currents while I was in the tunnel amplified when I emerged to find myself in another cave. It was then that I realize that the sounds I had heard were really human voices as my ears picked up incoherent babbling.
“Where are we?” I asked my guide who had stopped a few feet in front of me. He had a candle in his hand, though I noticed that there were torches held up along the walls. I looked at him questioningly.
He tilted his head, as if he was trying to hear something and answered, “We are in the first circle of the Hell of Pick-Up lines.”
“..Oh. So what’s with the whispering voices?”
Brock shook his head and pointed up, and I tilted my head back, my eyes widening as they met with countless other eyes.
“The first level of pick-up line users are the confusing ones. If they don’t end up getting a slap in the face, then they probably get a ‘What?’ in return because they don’t make sense at all,” Brock explained as I stared at the various faces with babbling mouths.
“What are they saying?” I strained my ears to hear and was surprised that I could pick up lines like, “You look just like my mother. I like my mother” and “If you were yogurt, would you be the fruit on the bottom or stirred?”
“They’re repeating pick-up lines all at once, so that they’re barely understandable, much like the lines they had used...”
I nodded just as a voice, louder than the rest, called out to us. I looked up again, this time more to the right, to see a guy with sandy-brown hair and a finger up his nose. I made a disgusted face. “Who are you?”
“Who am I? Who am I?” he repeated back at me, sounding (and looking) like he had lost a few screws in his head, though I suppose with being hung upside-side down like that, it could be possible. “I’m just a guy who said ‘If you were a booger, I’d pick you,’ but the girl just dumped her drink on me,” he continued in a monologue. It was as if he had forgotten about us and was off in his own world.
Brock chuckled beside me. “Since their pick-up lines confused others, they’re all a bit loose in the head, confusing to even themselves. They tend to get stuck in their minds because of that.”
“...Oh,” I replied back intelligently just as Brock pulled me away towards a rocky wall covered in moss. He reached out and pulled at a reddish object, and I realized it was a rusted door handle. At first he had only pulled gently, but when it was obvious that the door was not going to budge, he started to pull at the door harder. He stopped a few more tries later, leaning against it, about to complain, when he fell back. The door was supposed to be pushed, not pulled. I heard him groan in embarrassment as he stood up again.
LEVEL TWO
“Are you all right?” we heard a raspy voice ask from the shadows. The only source of light was from the opening of the cave and our candle, which was rapidly turning into a puddle of wax.
Brock held out his staff to block me from moving. “Who’s there?”
“Come closer so you may see me,” the voice said, and we took a few steps forward, the candlelight melting away the shadows as we ventured in. We began to see various disfigured creatures along the walls as we moved closer to the voice. A few more steps, and we were standing in front of a man who only came up to my waist. Brock held the diminishing candle in the man’s face, and I saw the reason why he had told us to find him instead of meeting us himself. He had no legs, just stumps hidden by the pants he was wearing. “I can see you,” he commented cheekily.
I snorted. “Uh, yeah. We see you too.”
“Great! Then how about tomorrow?”
Honestly, it was pretty lame, and I wondered how he had the guts to still say those lines when he was already in Hell. “...Uh. No,” I retorted.
“Oh.” He shrugged. “That was lame, wasn’t it? I guess this is why I ended up like this,” the man muttered and gestured to his stumps.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I interjected as I pieced the puzzle together. “Let me guess, this is the level for telling lame lines!” I turned to Brock excitedly. “And in return for telling those lines, they become lame themselves?”
And suddenly, before Brock could reply, another body had thrown itself at him, causing the both of them to land roughly on the ground and the candle to start flying across the room. I screamed just as it landed, expecting the land to catch on fire, but it extinguished upon impact. It was dimmer without the candlelight, but I could still see due to the light that flowed in through the opened door.
“Oh, it landed on a ‘water’ puddle. Someone was probably too happy to see you,” a high-pitched voice chortled lamely. I turned around to see a woman with no arms sit up on Brock’s back and rolled my eyes at the innuendo behind her words. “Hey there,” she purred to Brock. “the voices in my head told me to come over and talk to you.”
He replied back, “Sure thing, Sweetheart, but you have to let me stand up first to carry a dandy conversation.” I gagged at the cavity-inducing tone he used to speak to her.
“Ah, right.” She slowly started to move off of him, but with the lack of arms, it took quite a while. I was about to help her up when Brock (who had somehow gotten up without my noticing) shoved her to the ground and grabbed my arm, taking off to the right.
“Sorry, she would have kept us there we don’t get away now,” Brock muttered as an explanation. I had no idea where we were going as I blindly followed by guide. When I suddenly felt myself stepping on air and then dropping very abruptly, I screamed until my lungs were hoarse.
LEVEL THREE
We landed with a very loud splash as I felt my entire body become engulfed in cold water that stung my skin. I gasped for breath as I broke through the surface of the water, my eyes squinting in the poorly lit area. “Brock? Where are-- ow!” I felt a hand pull at my hair and turned around, ready to kick my attacker, but I stopped shortly when I saw it was Brock. I slapped his hand. Hard. “Keep your hands away from my hair,” I snapped.
He coughed as he waved wildly for me to follow him before swimming off towards the only piece of land I saw. I flopped onto the ground the moment I was able to pull myself out of the water, my nose wrinkling as I wondered why everything smelled like cheese.
“Hey, are you okay?” Brock asked next to me, looking like he was about to faint.
“Am I okay?” I repeated back at him, and suddenly, I felt anger and a surge of panic rise up from my guts. “Oh, I don’t know, would I be okay after being brought down to some stupid Hell about pick-up lines by a fictional character who can’t even open his eyes?” I saw him flinch, but continued to rant. “And then I meet all these weird creeps who use the lamest pick-up line I have ever heard. And if that’s not enough, my guide then pulls me with him into a some thousand feet drop into icy water and expect me to be okay? Do I look okay? Because I know my mind isn’t right now.” I was breathing roughly again, glaring at Brock, who only gave me a timid smile.
“About time for you to snap, huh,” he said and nodded his head to himself. “I suppose it’s better than freaking out when we’re at the last level.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, looking down, ashamed when he didn’t reprimand me for making fun of his eyes. He patted my arm.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get out of this alive.”
“Right,” I mumbled, exhausted and cold. I wasn’t too sure of his words, but it wasn’t like we could get out the way we came. I looked at the water and grimaced. No way was I going back in there. I sniffed, eyes watery as I wallowed in my own misery, and the strong smell reached my nose. “What’s with the cheesy smell?” As I stood up, my clothes made a squishing noise, and I frowned.
Brock pointed towards an enormous pool surrounded by torches.When I finally found the energy to pick myself off the ground and walk towards it, my jaw dropped as I stared at the yellow and almost gooey-but-more-watery substance bubbling out of the pot. I gasped when I started seeing human hands and feet and an occasional head appear from the opening, my ears
twitching at the screams that came from it.
I let out a tiny scream when a pale hand with gooey cheese clinging onto its fingers slapped onto the edge of the pool. Another hand joined it as the person started to pull himself up, though the lower half of his body remained in the pool. I was pretty sure I looked like a gaping fish when I recognized the squarish face, pale and menacing, though the effect was ruined by the cheese that clung to his hair. “Edward Cullen?” I turned to Brock, torn between laughing at the hilarity of the situation or being mortified at the sight.
“Am I dead?” he asked in no one in particular. I supposed he was hallucinating about Bella. “Because I think I just met an angel.” As I keened at the cheesiness of his line, he was once again pulled away by the force of the bubbling cheese.
“So let me guess,” I started, chuckling. “The cheesy ones get boiled by cheese?”
“Yep, forever boiled in cheese. At least they won’t have to starve!” He started to walk around the pool, and I followed him carefully. I thought I heard a “I want all of you. Forever. Everyday” along the way, which cause me to laugh when I recognized the line from The Notebook.
LEVEL FOUR
“Where are you going now?” I asked, but I didn’t need an answer when my eyes settled on rows of people lined up face to face with another person, reciting pick-up lines, while slapping each other. Their bodies were stuck in solidified cheese, the only thing showing were their heads and a free hand. Both body parts for each person were swollen, and I was sure some of them were bleeding.
“Bond. James Bond.” Slap. “Bond. James Bond.” Slap. “Bond. James Bond.” I was not surprised to see said man standing there, repeating his line in between each slap. Barney Stinson, a well-known player from the show How I Met your Mother, was across from him.
“You had a terrible fall. ‘Cause I can swear you fell straight out of heaven!” Slap. “You had a terrible fall. ‘Cause I can swear you--”
“And this is where all the cliches go. Since it’s been used so many times, they just end up repeating it over and over again like a broken record.” He continued to walk around the pool, and I followed him while cringing, a migraine slowly forming from hearing “Hello, I'm a thief, and I'm here to steal your heart” and “I lost my number. Can I have yours?” repeatedly.
LEVEL FIVE
When the sounds of slapping flesh and repeated pick-up lines were well behind us, we came across a set of stairs that led down into darkness. There was an arch above it, and a worn sign that read, “Beware of STDs.”
I froze, giving Brock a pointed look. “STDs?”
He rubbed his neck. “Er... yes. Well, the fifth level. How should I put it...” I glared, forcing him to continue. “Well, it’s the largest level. It’s um, full of people who use innuendo and pick-up lines that could border on sexual harassmentt.”
“So they get STDs as a punishment?” When he nodded, I almost kicked him in the crotch. “And you want me to go down there?” I screeched, my voice sounding a bit hysteric. “I am not doing down to a pit full of disgusting diseases just because some people wanted to get laid.”
Brock twitched nervously and tried to placate me. “Don’t worry, you won’t be infected! It’s only for those who committed the sin!”
There was an awkward silence save for the faint sound of slapping behind us. Brock fidgeted, waiting for me to make my decision. “Okay. Fine.” I could see my guide brighten up. “But,” I hurriedly added, “if anything happens, I swear I will skin you alive and then throw you down there with the rest of them.” The boy nodded, shuddering at the thought as he searched in his bag for another candle, and it didn’t take him long to have one lit. I followed him down the stairs, my eyes straining to see where I was placing my feet.
Upon reaching the final step, I heard a familiar voice say, “You know, these clothes do not flatter you at all, it should be a dress or nothing, I happen to have no dress down here.” Brock held his candle further out, and I could barely contain my laughter when I saw Captain Jack Sparrow leaning against a wall with a bottle of rum in his hand. I looked down at my wet clothes and shrugged, ignoring the suggestive wink he gave me.
I didn’t think he’d be down here, I thought, amused. “So what kind of STDs do you have?” I asked, though it did seem quite rude. Then again, he was a pirate.
The captain groaned. “Why must you ask, my dear?” He pushed off the pole and attempted to walk closer ,but Brock held out his staff and blocked him. “Aye, your friend there does not like me.” He eyed the staff. “ This poor man is already suffering from gonorrhea, I do not need a beating from him.” Walking back in his drunken swagger, he bade us farewell, wiggling his fingers to wave at us. “Very well, I suppose I should be on my way now.”
We watched the captain stagger away, wincing when he tripped over his once feet and landed on his face. I huffed at Brock. “Aw, you didn’t even let us continue our conversation.”
“Yeah, well, I’d face not risk being skinned by you and then tossed down here.”
“What, I think you’d become great friends with Jack!” I retorted with fake enthusiasm as Brock led me further into the cave. As we continued in, I heard many pained groans from around us. A pungent smell of rotting flesh hit my nose, and I covered it immediately, ready to let the contents in my stomach out if I continued to smell it.
“Oh my, let’s get you out of these wet clothes,”a voice said from behind me. My guide and I whipped around, and I screamed when I saw Austin Power’s lecherous grin. I grabbed Brock’s staff and swung, causing the man to stumble backwards to avoid getting hit. I hid behind Brock when he took a step toward us again. “They’d look great in a heap on my bedroom floor,” he continued.
Scoffing, I retorted, “What bedroom floor? You’re in Hell.”
“Oh? Well, I could always take you there if you don’t believe me,” he replied, his hands reaching out to grab me just as I hit them with Brock’s staff. I hit him in the crotch next, hoping that he had herpes or something that would contribute even more to his pain.
“Uh, Bro--” I didn’t even finish before Brock was pulling me away. A sense of déjà vu filled me as we ran away from Austin.
“Hey, we aren’t going to--” I never finished my sentence because I was already on thin air, screaming even louder than the previous time. My vision went black, the last thing I saw was the fire on Brock’s candle extinguish.
END DREAM
I opened my eyes wide as I hit the floor, my screamed muffled by the pillows and blanket that followed after me. I sat up quickly, gasping for air, and looked at my surroundings and sank back to the floor when I found myself in my room. “So it was a dream,” I muttered, groaning into the carpet. I wrinkled my nose when I realize that my clothes were damp, the scent of sweat filling up my room. “Arg, why would I even dream about something like that?”
Another breeze filtered into the room, and I remembered what a certain closed-eyed boy had once said to me in my dream.
“To cure your boredom, of course.”
“That.” I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. “I don’t think I’ll want to be bored for the next few weeks.” I turned to the TV and stared at it, though Pokémon had ended a while ago. “I think I’ll have to lay off on the cartoons too.”
Jumping when I heard my phone ring, I struggled to untangle myself from my blanket as I searched for the electronic. “Hello?”
I breathed into the mic, once I had picked myself off the floor and walked to my closet, searching for some fresh clothes.
“Are you free tonight, or will it cost me?” a voice said through the speakers.
“Oh my god, not now,” I replied, not bothering to listen as my friend tried to continue talking. I pressed the end call button and threw the phone on my bed.
LA FIN.
Okay, anyway. I need to go back to studying because I am obviously going to fail exams fml fdsihgdsfda