I’m standing uninvited in the middle of an un-Mandated, fully-powered bedroom strung up with Christmas lights and covered wall-to-wall with posters galore. Three Hispanic-looking high school and/or college losers—Rosie, Veronica, and Danny, judging by the conversation—are sitting at a cheap folding table. They’re playing poker, I think, and are seemingly oblivious to the crappy boombox on the bedside table that’s belting out rampant banda.
The instant I download, everyone turns and looks at me.
One of the gals gasps.
Danny raises an eyebrow. “Who’re you?”
I hold up my hands authoritatively (woops—did I just drop Theo’s Asia CD?) as I fumble my earmuffs onto my head. “I’m l33t_master! Remain calm! You’re under the influence of El Cassetto!” Before anyone can react, I lunge across the bed, toward the boombox, my bulk knocking Veronica aside and causing her cards to fly every which way. “Don’t worry! The muffs I’m wearing will protect me from the evil sound waves!” I eject the cassette from the boombox—
“Hey, kid!” Danny yells. “What the hell are you doing?”
—start yanking out wads of magnetic tape one giant handful at a time.
“That’s my girlfriend’s mixtape!” Danny throws himself across the bed as well, grabs me around the waist.
“Yeah!” I scream back. “The mixtape from hell!”
“Who are you?!?”
“I’m what happens when you blindly accept online friend requests from people you don’t know!”
Rosie and Veronica, holding each other, their heads pressed together, look totally shocked as they watch me and the Danster wrestle for El Cassetto.
“Do you know who he is?” I hear Veronica ask.
“He’s not l33t_master,” Rosie replies. “That’s for sure.”
“You mean that kid who made it with Asia Afrodesia?”
“Um…yeah. He sent me a friend request, and I kind of sort of added him.”
“Why in the world would you do that?”
“I thought maybe he could hook me up with an autograph from Asia or something.” Rosie frowns. “Except this isn’t him at all.”
“He looks like Super Porky’s son.”
“Super Porky has a son?”
Danny tries to put me in a headlock.
I don’t know how to fight, but I do know how to flail—and flail I do, my excessive weight at long last being applied effectively to a real world scenario. Translated: my fatness causes the bed to jiggle just enough that Danny can’t get a firm grasp on my Jell-O rolls.
“You’re crazy, kid!” he shouts.
“Let me go!” I shout back. “That tape is fucking evil! It has to be destroyed before everyone gets pregnant! I have to win a bet!”