wouldn’t.”
“You saying my testicles are of insufficient size?” asked Deron, mimicking his friend’s speech. He leaned back slightly and turned his head to the sky. The immense clouds reached high like plumes of smoke.
“Something like that.” Sebo pointed to the image. “Observe the detail around the penile area.”
Deron squirmed and tried to resist looking. When Sebo pushed the palette towards his face, he put up a defensive hand.
“Look how uncomfortable you get just looking at it. No one as homophobic as you would be able to craft the male sex organ so lovingly. What we have here is an artist who is not afraid to visualize the wang.” He paused, mulled something over as if selecting from the cafeteria menu. “A real wang-thinker.”
“So a—” started Deron.
“Yes! A girl!” Sebo beamed triumphantly. “I figured it out. The artist must be female.” He lapsed into a trance for a few seconds, during which his eyes continued to cycle, once taking on a bright pink that made Deron chuckle.
“There’s nothing homophobic about being repulsed by the sight of another man’s...” Deron waved his hand around uncertainly.
“So you would characterize your condition not as anti-gay but more anti-wang?”
“Yeah.”
Sebo huffed. “This from the guy that consistently sucks balls in Destined 4 Death.” Something flashed across his veneer, a changing of gears so sudden that Deron didn’t even have time to respond. “Did you get that trailer I sent you? They’re going to be demoing the new map packs in Paramel this weekend.”
“No,” said Deron, reaching down for his backpack. He pulled his palette into his lap and thumbed the corner. A second later, his portal filled the screen. Multimedia clips played silently in the lower left; one of them showed the Destined 4 Death Marauder Pack. He selected it and made it fill the screen.
He was only thirty seconds in before the instant messages started popping up, as if the entire school had been waiting for him to sign on so they could congratulate him. Some were from people he knew, other kids that shared his classes, but a lot were from relative strangers, normal students who were just happy to see someone put Russo in his place.
“Unwarranted acclamation is what ruined the first half of the twenty-first century. History shows that people who accept credit while fully aware of their lack of merit eventually get found out and castrated.”
Deron shot him a glance.
“So you are listening.”
“Yeah,” said Deron, clearing away the messages. “I’m starting to think Rosalia had something to do with this.”
“Agreed. Who else besides her would keep a catalogue of Russo’s work? Shop or no shop, they’re still naked pictures of you.”
“Either way, she’s doing exactly what Russo wanted.” He sighed and a picture of Rosalia appeared in the corner of his palette. She was smiling at him, her eyes and lips a bright and fiery red. “I thought if I just ignored him long enough, he would stop. I guess I just made it worse.”
Sebo clucked his tongue. “Post hoc ergo propter hoc.”
“Yeah, helicopter carrot rock to you too.”
“It means you can’t attribute your actions to his response just because they followed.”
“So,” said Deron, scratching his cheek, “he’s a dick regardless?”
Sebo nodded approvingly. “And we’ve already established your aversion to dick.”
“Now you understand.”
“Hold on,” said Sebo, putting his hand up. “Let’s not get all slap-happy just because you admit your homophobia. We’re missing the real issue here and that’s that Rosa has engaged the enemy.” He mimed taking the handles of a truck-mounted machine gun. “This means retaliation on Russo’s part and nobody knows the extent of his dickishness. At the minimum, I see backlash towards Rosa. Worst case? Maybe violence.”
“Since when do you care about her?”
“Make no mistake. Every moment you spend hypnotized by
“You saying my testicles are of insufficient size?” asked Deron, mimicking his friend’s speech. He leaned back slightly and turned his head to the sky. The immense clouds reached high like plumes of smoke.
“Something like that.” Sebo pointed to the image. “Observe the detail around the penile area.”
Deron squirmed and tried to resist looking. When Sebo pushed the palette towards his face, he put up a defensive hand.
“Look how uncomfortable you get just looking at it. No one as homophobic as you would be able to craft the male sex organ so lovingly. What we have here is an artist who is not afraid to visualize the wang.” He paused, mulled something over as if selecting from the cafeteria menu. “A real wang-thinker.”
“So a—” started Deron.
“Yes! A girl!” Sebo beamed triumphantly. “I figured it out. The artist must be female.” He lapsed into a trance for a few seconds, during which his eyes continued to cycle, once taking on a bright pink that made Deron chuckle.
“There’s nothing homophobic about being repulsed by the sight of another man’s...” Deron waved his hand around uncertainly.
“So you would characterize your condition not as anti-gay but more anti-wang?”
“Yeah.”
Sebo huffed. “This from the guy that consistently sucks balls in Destined 4 Death.” Something flashed across his veneer, a changing of gears so sudden that Deron didn’t even have time to respond. “Did you get that trailer I sent you? They’re going to be demoing the new map packs in Paramel this weekend.”
“No,” said Deron, reaching down for his backpack. He pulled his palette into his lap and thumbed the corner. A second later, his portal filled the screen. Multimedia clips played silently in the lower left; one of them showed the Destined 4 Death Marauder Pack. He selected it and made it fill the screen.
He was only thirty seconds in before the instant messages started popping up, as if the entire school had been waiting for him to sign on so they could congratulate him. Some were from people he knew, other kids that shared his classes, but a lot were from relative strangers, normal students who were just happy to see someone put Russo in his place.
“Unwarranted acclamation is what ruined the first half of the twenty-first century. History shows that people who accept credit while fully aware of their lack of merit eventually get found out and castrated.”
Deron shot him a glance.
“So you are listening.”
“Yeah,” said Deron, clearing away the messages. “I’m starting to think Rosalia had something to do with this.”
“Agreed. Who else besides her would keep a catalogue of Russo’s work? Shop or no shop, they’re still naked pictures of you.”
“Either way, she’s doing exactly what Russo wanted.” He sighed and a picture of Rosalia appeared in the corner of his palette. She was smiling at him, her eyes and lips a bright and fiery red. “I thought if I just ignored him long enough, he would stop. I guess I just made it worse.”
Sebo clucked his tongue. “Post hoc ergo propter hoc.”
“Yeah, helicopter carrot rock to you too.”
“It means you can’t attribute your actions to his response just because they followed.”
“So,” said Deron, scratching his cheek, “he’s a dick regardless?”
Sebo nodded approvingly. “And we’ve already established your aversion to dick.”
“Now you understand.”
“Hold on,” said Sebo, putting his hand up. “Let’s not get all slap-happy just because you admit your homophobia. We’re missing the real issue here and that’s that Rosa has engaged the enemy.” He mimed taking the handles of a truck-mounted machine gun. “This means retaliation on Russo’s part and nobody knows the extent of his dickishness. At the minimum, I see backlash towards Rosa. Worst case? Maybe violence.”
“Since when do you care about her?”
“Make no mistake. Every moment you spend hypnotized by
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