2
The man is seen in a classroom, he is a younger version of himself. He sat on the carpet, drawing a picture of a house, before it was rudely stepped on by one of his peers. The child looked down at the man, his lips creeping into a smirk as he pointed aggressively towards the man.
“Hey there, L Mogger,” The child said, with disdain in his voice.
The man looked up at the child, “What do you want, Grimace?”
The Child, now known as Grimace, kneeled down to eye level of the man, “You’re not skibidi noradrenaline enough to be in this classroom, L Mogger,” Grimace said, before grabbing the man’s coloring crayon, “Fanum Tax!”
The man clenched his fist, as he desperately tried to grab the crayon back, “Grimace! Give it back!
Grimace laughed mockingly, “No, L Mogger, you have to looksmax before you can mew better tha-” Grimace was cut off, as the man’s fist connected to Grimace’s face. Grimace fell over, writhing in pain. As the man stood up, he felt like Bruce Wayne.
“I looksmaxxed more than you, Grimace,” the man said, before leaving the classroom. Everyone looked in shock as he left, all murmuring the words, “he’s so sigma!” and, “He’s a true Balkan!” and, “He’ll surely get the huzz after!”
That last phrase repeated in his mind..
over..
and over..
again.