SAVE POINT 40

DANKFanboi_420

I may not have been smoking hot...but I was definitely smoking pot. ...And, damn, a morning never looked as good as it did when you were feeling good—you get me?

I blinked into the brilliant sunlight streaming over my face, stretching my arms above my head like a well-fed, tabby cat.

Minus the well-fed part. Whatever MREs those fantasy-loving, Tolkien, prepper boys packed tasted like upgraded cardboard; I thought even a donkey would refuse them, and I’d told them so. I was gonna have to find me some other breakfast.

I scratched at the zipper of my cargo pants. God, there was no way to explain how good it felt to itch right now—this weed was D-A-N-K. If there was an option for a shower around here, I'd be in there for hours marveling at the sensation of the water falling on my face. But there was no running water. Just tents. And my peeps. And those two quarrelling girls who reminded me of the ex-wife I'd never have to return to 'cause—'cause this game world was awesome. ...And I knew that ruler-up-her-ass, freckled girl and her dangerously, somehow-very-skanky, friend wanted me to rally all of us to the nearest portal, but, gods, I thought to myself ‘Fanboi wants to stick around here a long while longer.’

Fanboi definitely likes.

The freedom out here.

The comradery of people who got books, art and video game references. Hell, I’d even run into a guy who’d beat the original Resident Evil in 5 hours! Damn! I almost wanted him to sign my chest.

At any rate, all this sure beat cereal on the couch playing Mortal Combat in the cheapest hotel room ocean-side...dribbling milk down the front of my oversized t-shirt. I mean, I knew they had a pool there, but at least three kids peed in it daily. And the last one’d been a doozy.

Shit, I'd just live here.

In the fucking video game.

Bet my old woman's head would implode if I told her I'd literally jumped into the video games she used to tell me were, and I quote, 'a colossal waste of time and adult energy'.

'Adult energy'—ew, WTF. She had a way of phrasing shit to make you feel like the algae growing on the underside of a boat.

Or she'd just accuse me of being addicted to heroin again. What a bitch. I'd only tried it three times. Surf's changed, woman. You couldn't be broke in a place where there was no money. And they had magic here—like we were all up in Narnia or some shit.

Those girls wrenched tight as a bolt kept telling me how "bad" it was to create using a dragon’s magic but, honestly, I didn't see what the harm was making a few bomb-ass swords here or there. It was certainly keeping people busy.

The Slytherin crowd sure was still having fun. M&M had them all on lockdown—that's what I'd been calling the two Gamer girls who took their life too seriously. I couldn't remember their names right now, but I knew they started with 'M' and...well, candy was a lot sweeter than either of them. Lockdown was fine but they were joking if they thought those scheming weirdos were going to stay shenanigan-less for over 24 hours. The green-and-black robed idiots were whispering and sniggering with each other—

Come to think of it, I'd go ask them if they had breakfast.

Looping my thumbs in my pockets, I strode towards the group through the tall grass. They all stiffened and stared—like gazelles meeting a cheetah in the wild. As long as it wasn’t the other way around, you know what I mean?

I nodded my head at them, "'Supp?"

The skinny, tall one in front spat in the grass near my feet. He narrowed his eyes at me. The closer I got, the more acne I spotted, contrasting his green, Hogwarts scarf like a Christmas tree. "You here to tell us which rock not to step on?" he jeered.

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These jackasses.

I flung up my hands, palms exposed like I'd been discovered aboard their pirate ship and had to play defense. "No, ho my ex is the one more like that," I admitted, shrugging and sauntering forward with a wink at the nearest girl—a dark-haired, squat woman with the face of a pug (just a reality, not tryin' to be mean or anything). "My ex was all into climbing that ladder to business exec. Strung tighter than a kite—"

"I'm a human resources manager," the woman responded, her tight-lipped frown deepening.

Oops. Taking foot out of mouth—

"Then you know what I mean," I quipped with a quick smile. "Listen," I told them all, shoving my hands back in my pockets and trying to ignore the fact that I was clearly behind enemy lines here, "I'm in need of some munchies. You guys got anything? The bros on the other side apparently thought we were going wilderness mapping and forgot we'd need real food if we were going to do any of that—"

"We don't share," huffed a redhead kid from the back who looked like he could be Napoleon Dynamite's twin brother.

"Well, do you trade?" I insisted, curling my fingers around the plastic, saran wrap goodies squashed in my trousers. I pulled out a handful of the best brownies anyone could ask for, "'Cause these'll lay you on your back while your face melts. Plus, they're my Memaw's special recipe so, if pass up these, you're passing up a life experience just sayin—"

"Done," the kid in front snapped decisively, thrusting a paper bag at me, "Take what you want."

"Marcus!" Human-resources-manager-pain-in-the-ass rebuked.

"What?" The kid asked, shrugging and gleefully taking the special brownies from me.

"Here, take them all," I offered, rolling the sticky bundle off my palm, "I've got more in my tent."

I riffled through the paper bag they'd offered, hemming and hawing till I decided on a Red Bull and protein bar. I cracked the energy drink open, right then and there, relishing the satisfying hiss and pop. Breakfast of champions. A little weed could open up your entire world.

Feeling like king of the hill and walking like it, I hiked back to my tent. And I laid in there for a while, staring up at the fabric ceiling, marveling at my new life and chewing on my prize box, protein bar slowly like making it last would make this peace inside me last. But it usually slipped away—somehow, it aways got away from me and real life tried to rip the corners of my laid-back solitude and remind me of the loneliness.

Or the bills.

Or my ex's squinting face—her disapproval. My entire family's disapproval. God, they were such a judgy lot. 'You should be more like your brother' they told me. The lawyer brother. The one with the pretty, little wife and robo kids. Even their dog was trained—who had a trained dog?! Ridiculous standards that I could never live up to. I'd stopped trying. They might have seen me as a failure, but, worse, sometimes, I saw myself as one too. Deep down I wondered if I'd ever be something—do something...good. 'Cause usually 'good' wasn't a word people associated with me so...

Damn, I hated emotions. Obviously, I was gonna need a hit.

I struck my lighter and was about to get this chillfest on ice when I heard a scream.

Not a positive scream—like a jump scare, a video game holler or people gettin' a little handsy in the next tent over. It was a someone's-tryin'-to-fucking-scalp-me scream. Pure terror.

Adrenaline pulsed through my veins—oh shit!

I scrabbled to my feet, flinging open the tent flap in a crouched and ready position—

My mouth hung wide open as I watched the following events transpire:

1) People running, whizzing past me in a blurry panic.

2) Zombies, for real, bros, stumbling along the tree line, grabbing for people.

3) The Slytherin group chanting in the grass, their faces streaked with determination with a tiny dragon taped to a bucket in between them.

And, then, I had to blink. Twice. Because there were ostriches—a whole herd, rushing away from the zombies. Their thin necks and feet were collared with black-leather straps with massive, spiked points. Their enormous backs held saddles while thin reins were wrapped around their dangerous-looking beaks.

And they were all headed straight towards me. What the—?!

Fingers grabbed my arm from behind. I whipped around to see the freckled part of M&M—what did she want? "It was your watch," she growled, "What happened?!"

First of all, they really needed to take it easier with the whole 'watch' bit...

"I don't know," I spat, "I traded the Slytherin peeps some brownies for my breakfast, and everything was super chill till zombies started popping out of the woods—"

The girl swore under her breath. Her intense eyes narrowed, "So, you're telling me you just gave a bunch of special brownies to the brats that keep breaking this world?"

I giggled a little, "They are probably so toasted right now—"

"Not helping!" she snapped. "Where did the birds come from?"

But I didn't get time to answer because the kid I’d traded the brownies with rode up on an ostrich—and, no, I was not fucking that high; he really was riding the thing—

"Hey! Get up on a bird!" He gestured, pulling his animal up short with the reins, "Fastest land animal I could think of to create. Let's outrun these zombie bastards!"

"You created them?!" the freckled girl fumed, "We're fighting creatures created by black magic with more black magic?! —You morons!"

But the kid was gone.

And the girl could only glower at me.

I grimaced back. ...Dudes, I swear I didn't mean to fuck up.