"'Bitch, get yiffed!'"
Darkrad looked up. He was uncomfortable about this whole arrangement.
"Oh, come on!" Alan pressured. "It's a great start!"
The Dalmation continued, pounding a fist on the desk for emphasis, "POW! You know? Really grab the reader's attention from the beginning."
"Alan..."
"Just keep reading! It gets good, soon."
"It's just going to turn into porn again, isn't it?"
"But it isn't gay this time."
"It's really rad that you are pursuing your writing," the Golden Retriever was visibly exhausted. It could just be his face. I'm not any certain way but sometimes retrievers just look so dead inside. "I don't think you should be distributing this kind of stuff at school."
"It's, like, you and maybe two other people. It's like a writing club or something. We're doing it!"
Darkrad chewed on some jerky. Sometimes he left Alan hanging. Long, uncomfortable moments where the bit lingers into a weird dance of non-acknowledgement. They probably fuck.
"I'm just saying, someone's going to get caught and it isn't going to be me. If you want to write, I'll read it, but would it kill you to keep it PG?"
"You know how people act and how people talk. My stuff is at least wholesome."
"What was that one a few back abou-"
"That was a Halloween Special. I'm the shits at horror so I have to lean into disfigurement."
"I just hope you didn't set any flags for doing that."
Alan sure wrote a lot of gay porn in middle school. Some of it was hot, I guess. Run of the mill shit, probably. Enough delusion and reality bends. There’s probably a lesson about religion or psychology there but the character can’t write smarter than the author.
Meanwhile, in a story that hasn’t been written, Thomas Todd sat crying in the corner. His toy train, Bezrat, had been smashed. He was too traumatized to recall the bullies. Tattletales are the worst. It is best to see and know nothing.
That isn’t real Thomas
the voice cooed softly.
Who would believe anyone picking on such a big and kind boy.
Stories of self-harm, violent outbursts, and screaming fits could make it make sense.
“I can’t follow this,” Darkrad pushed the composition book away.
Alan smirked. It might be adolescent sexual frustration. He was probably thinking of force feeding his peer sloppy pepperoni pizza. He had written some raunchy PG stories. Dogbrorealbark. Perhaps writing unporn for a bestie is common?
++++++
The voice sighed,
Now you'll have to use that.
