It all starts when my alarm clock obnoxiously rings in my ear, waking me up from my dreams. One of my new year's resolutions was to finally get rid of that damn clock. Of course being the lazy guy that I am means that I never got around to it and so for yet another five months I've had to deal with the noise. I silence the alarm and get out of my bed, not worried that I have to be at my Driver's Ed class in a half hour. I see that my pet has moved from his newspaper bed probably wondering when I'll feed him breakfast, as if he even needs me to feed him by now. I take a nice bath, cleaning everything and then I walk to the closet to grab my clothes.

I put on the most clean white shirt I can find and pull up my pants, wrapping the pair with my belt. I look in the mirror to see my outfit for the day. Instantly I get audible memories of people asking why I always wear the same clothes. I can’t help it; I like Einstein’s strategy of just having an identical pair of the same outfit.  I look at myself and give a variety of smiles, making sure they’re somewhat sincere. Once I add the final piece of clothing, a nice tie, to my outfit I give out a smile and say, “Time for a fantastic day!”

I walk down the steps to my living room as I shudder at that comment I made. I’ve grown so used to that “Nice and happy” performance that I barely even drop it when I’m alone. I go to the kitchen and find my pet scratching at his bowl; maybe he does still need my help. I search for the recent can of food in my pet cabinet, making sure it’s the correct one and that it’s not broken or dented. I serve him the best dried up patches of little bits the pet food company could provide, laughing as I cheerily tell him to eat up.  He doesn’t even bother to purr in satisfaction, showing he’s grateful.

I open the freezer and pull out a burger, taking off the wrapper and throwing it on the stove.  The whole thing eventually gets warm and I put the burger on a plate, already filled with contents like cheese and buns. Quickly finishing my meal with a burp, I put the plate in the sink with the hopes of cleaning it later. Now that my morning routine is finished, I grab my phone and call my boss to inform him that I’ll be late.

“Late, what for boy?!” I really hate it when he calls me that but I’ll be damned if I tell him that so I just put on my smile and laugh it off.

“Don’t you remember sir? It’s the day I have to go to my driving class!” Dumbass, I mentally add.

I practically hear his heart melt as he begins to change his tone.

“Ah, I forgot. Well, while you’re there, tell your teacher I said hello.”

Sometimes I wonder how I didn’t go off on a killing spree with all this petty favor stuff clogging my day and annoying me to no end. I just tell him that he can do that when she gets off work. I don’t think it’d be appropriate to add that they’ve been dating a long time now and that he doesn’t need me to do this so I just leave in my mind.

I then call my parents to tell them that I’ll be visiting them saturday.

“Oh it just delights me that you’re coming over, Robert!” My mother exclaims, either not knowing or not caring that I’m only doing it to get some additional money. I give all the pleasantries, the “I love yous”, all that good mopey dopey drivel I’ve given before and I hang up the phone once we’re done talking.

Walking outside makes me glad that I live in a small suburb area. It’s nice, peaceful, quiet, and when I hear that beautiful music playing in the house next door I legitimately smile.

He’s been my love for years now, though he doesn’t seem to acknowledge it. I’ve been in a fair deal of relationships with crushes all my life but I’ve never been rejected until he came along. That’s what started it off really, his refusal to play the love game. My neighbor stops playing his instrument and I hear him get in the shower.

I think about going into his house, entering his bathroom just to look at his nice, polished, shiny body that gives me chills everytime I think about it at night but I snap out of it this time. I’ll eventually get him to love me though. I walk past my love’s house and I see my other neighbors abode. It’s beyond cheaply made and dirty to the core. This man is probably a bigger poser than I ever could be.  He’s pretending to be so retarded that he can’t function without assistance in a scheme to freeload off his parents and society as a whole. I’ve been so called “friends” with this guy for years, mostly because he makes me feel better about myself with his fake idiocy.

I just walk right into the pig’s home, stepping on food cans and soda bottles, trying not to assault my nose with the stench that’s surrounding the area. The pink flesh ball is sleeping in the center, considering it’s a one room house it’s the only place he can sleep. He’s not wearing a shirt when I see him, hell he never wears a shirt but this time it’s more noticeable. I bend down and grab the bag of soap bars he has under his folds of fat, hoping to blow some when he wakes up.

“Why do you keep entering my house like this man?” He asks with an added yawn, rising from his slop and standing up.

I decide to be honest around him and answer, even using my rarely used real voice: “You don’t have it padlocked.”

We both grab some bars of soap from the bag, liquefying it, making it good for blowing. Two minutes pass and I check my watch, feeling relieved that I still have fifteen minutes left before I’m supposed to be there. I walk to the door, pausing when the blob asks me a question.

“How’s your girlfriend?” He’s referring to a lady I’ve been friends with ever since she moved into town.

“Oh silly, I’m not dating her.” I cheerily say, putting on my facade. I tried dating her but it never went anywhere. She’s in love with a dumb body builder who’s usually outside tanning and flexing. Nowadays, instead of dating, we’re beating the tar out of each other as both our bodies are used to vent the other’s built up anger. I have no problem with being a living punching bag, it’s the fact that people assume we’re dating, including my true love.

I leave my “friend’s” house and walk to my driver’s ed building. I arrive with 2 minutes left on the clock. My teacher’s already there, sitting on a bench next to the vehicle we’re going to use for the test. She’s more tired nowadays due to the overexposure my boss gives her. As I’m right next to her, I see that she’s even gotten fatter than she already was over the two years they’ve been together due to all the dining and sleeping and nonexistent exercise. She wakes up, says hello and gets in the vehicle.

I enter too, feeling her large fat press against my right shoulder. I expertly start up the engine in my own way. I make sure to look klutzy and disorganized, fooling my teacher into thinking I’m still a worried nitwit who can’t drive. Really, it’s not that I can’t as much as I don’t care to. But my parents won’t allow that kind of laziness so I put up a decent show.

I have it started now, I look over to my teacher to find that she’s fallen asleep again. For a moment I just look at her body and I begin caressing the flesh, it feels soft and warm. I stroke it, move it, I even lick some parts of her pale skin that I can see. Her obesity is slowly killing her, making her less than the energetic and happy woman she used to be. I  then ponder all the advantages it gives me in the long run and I decide that I don’t care what the hell happens to her.

I quickly resume my performance, happily wake her up and the driving test begins. I still fail like I’ve always done in the past, though there’s not a whole lot of damage this time. I leave the place, walking to work with a skip in my step. On the way, I see my fighting opponent and her body builder sitting together, drinking an energy shake. I smile at them with a wave, well I’m actually smiling more at that nice bruise I gave her yesterday but I’m still smiling in their direction so it still counts I guess.

Soon after, I finally arrive at the restaurant where I work at. It’s already quite busy with customers when I walk in, there’s practically no where to sit. I, however, am not looking at the customers. I’m looking at my crush, standing at the register. He looks so beautiful with his uniform on. I’m tempted to run at the man and start necking him but I resist the urge. I just greet him with a very friendly hug, telling him good morning. As usual, I’m violently shoved to the ground, this time it felt very good. I get up and head to my station, putting on my uniform real quick. Hours pass, I make food, I eye the perfect man and I occasionally make chitchat with my boss. The shift keeps going on and my attraction to my man grows restless. It’s been unsatisfied for quite a while but now it’s killing me. I manage to keep it in check but the urges, the compulsions, the wants to have him get stronger and more uncontrollable.

Soon, the place closes and I wait for my love to leave so we can walk together. He takes an exceptionally long time, hinting that he doesn’t wanna walk with me. I play his game and I go home by myself. The night air hits me hard as I enter my house, practically knocking me inside.

Four hour pass, the night has taken over the sky, and I decide that enough is enough. My pet approaches me with an empty bowl and I fill it with food quickly. I then go outside to my lovely neighbor’s house. I open his back window like I’ve done before and I quietly enter. I essentially slither to his room, not making a sound as I see him sleeping soundly.

I approach his covers and kiss his forehead. I then remove the covers and start making out with my lovely man, my angel. He wakes up and is naturally angry but I don’t care, I’m gonna get  what I’ve been wanting ever since he rejected me. I take off his nightshirt and I lick at it, scratch it even. I’m in bliss, my eyes are probably filled with mindless lust. I didn’t notice the lamp that was on his nightdesk and I certainly didn’t notice him picking it up and throwing it at me.

I enter a coma from my neighbor’s room and I wake up in police headquarters. I sigh, knowing that I have to do this bullshit again. I play along with police officers, do all the routines I’m supposed to do and I get my one phone call. I call my Mother, planning on asking her to give me my bail so I can get out of here and go home, as I’ve done countless times before. She answers the phone and listens to my story. I then hear a sob from her, oh god here it comes.

“I don’t get you Robert!” She whines, “Why are you constantly doing this to our family!? Haven’t you learned by now not to do this?”

I pretend to cry, saying “Yes mom I have, I’m so sorry.”

This goes on for a while until I convince her to give me the bail money.

“This is the last time we’ll do this for you Robert. You know, you-” She holds back a gasp, “You do nothing but take from everyone around you. We give and give and give and you just absorb it all like, like a sponge!”

I give a sigh of contentment. Yeah that’s me, I think, you might as well call me Spongebob.


Written by Mr. 1up-Mushroom for the head to head competition with Sshakenbakee! Feedback is welcome.

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