sixwordstories | (no subject)

You know better than that.

Edited 2015-08-26 15:05 (UTC)

How would I know? How would you know?

Because I know everything. Need me to punch you a few times? Maybe you'll feel real then.

Pain doesn't define reality.

Jesus fucking christ, Proko. School hasn't even started yet, please tell me you're not reading all that existential emo Nietzsche bullshit again.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck you. I like that bullshit. Better than the Dr. Seuss your dipshit brain lives on.

Dr. Seuss is deep, man. Just gotta learn how to read between the lines. Subtext, or some shit. Or do imaginary people not get that?

What the fuck is deep about one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish? Sounds like a nice trip, sure. No fuckin' subtext.

[Kavinsky grabs a handful of Frosted Flakes and throws them at Proko's head] It's about fucking acceptance, dickwad.

[Using his hands like fly swatters he bats the cereal away. Pieces that land in his hair get picked out and flicked at Kavinsky's face.] Fine, fag, I accept that I'm a pod person.

[Kavinsky catches some of the pieces that fly back at him, sticking them in his mouth. His eyes go dark for a moment as he watches Proko. He'd never put him in any category with the rest of this world's garbage, because he created him] No, you're better than that.

Don't think so. I'm a fake. Imaginary. Sometimes I'm sure only you can see me. [Grabbing the boxed cereal he digs his hand in and pokes around.] What the fuck, no prize!?

That's cause you're fucking ugly and bitches would rather pretend you're not there. [He gives Proko the finger, then gets up to grab some beers] The prize is my dick.

I could go for some dick in a box. [A handful of cereal is stuffed in his mouth. Then the box goes flying through the air straight for Kavinsky.]

Yeah, I've talked about that with my friends. Well, we tend to frame it as 'we're all in a fictional version of reality'. Major in science and I guess it changes your vocabulary.

I don't think I mind being imaginary, either way, though. So long as I'm happy.

You're happy being a fake?

I'm happy being me, knowing who I know and having the people in my life that I do. Whether I'm fake or not, I have what matters in life. So yes, I'm happy.

Ray of fuckin' sunshine.

[She shrugs, good naturedly.] I guess. So what made you start thinking about people being imaginary?

I think that I might be imaginary. Somethin' like that.

What makes you think that? You seem real enough to me.

Who's the fag now, cocksucker? [He leans out of the way, the box hitting the fridge instead, flakes flying out everywhere. He flings a can of beer at Proko's head in return] Speaking of which, if you were just in my head, you'd be doing a lot more productive things with your mouth than eating all my fucking cereal.

Just a feeling I get when I wake up. Like I'm less in the real world than in my dreams.

[The can flies by him, hits the wall and explodes.] Didn't say I could go for your dick in a box.

Doesn't make you less of a fag, asshole. [He gives Proko a look, falling back on the couch, cracking his beer open and downing half of it] I'm not grabbing you another one.