As I finished my sandwich, I attempted to make another one. “You gotta stop eating sandwiches,” My friend told me. “Here. What about I get rid of this Nutella to stop your urge for sandwiches.”
“Stop it. You don’t know how it is to go three days with no food.” I argued.
“First off, I do know how it feels to go three days without food. We were both trapped in the elevator together. Secondly, you need to stop because your body is not used to large quantities of food, so you’ll--”
“Oh, shut up. Stop being a smartass.” I interrupted.
“I’m just trying to be helpfu--” he started.
“Get lost. Scram!” I said, stuffing another sandwich down my throat. I gave Mark a little push, and he retreated down the stairs to the cold basement. “I eat whatever the hell I want.” As I finished the sandwich, I went back to the kitchen and near the white toaster, where the bag of sandwiches were. As I reached to grab one, I noticed there was no more bread. “Holy crap. I’m a monster!” I walked down the stairs that were aligned next to the kitchen to meet back up with my friend, the Sandwich Nazi, and my crazy brother. They’re so judgmental. Whatever. Let’s just have fun.
“Why is your carpet so damp?” The Sandwich Nazi asked, in attempt to start conversation
“I don’t know!” I hissed angrily. “Maybe because we are not a bunch of rich, high-class, jerks!”
“Geez. What’s your problem.” He answered back, innocently.
“You wanna know my problem? Huh?! You really want to know?” I said, contracting my eyes to focus on him.
“Well, I guess--” He started.
“Well, first off you’re very judgmental.” I said.
“Is this about the sandwich thing?” Mark asked. “Because, if so, I wasn’t judging you. I was just informing you of the dangers.”
“You always enslave me!” I finally said. I have been feeling this way for years now, and saying this just made me feel very good. I sat down.
“Wha? What are you talking about? You are an equal friend as Mark and I.”
The other Mark nodded, negating that. “Nope. We definitely do not treat you as an equal. But you see, it’s not a problem. In fact, this is good. You fetch us what we need, and you can play with us.”
“You know what? Screw you guys! I’m out.” I walked up the stairs, cursing and swearing at the evil Marks. They think just because they are both named Mark that they outrank me? I’ll show them!
I walked into my room and violently slammed the door. I walked to my chair and stared at the green wall that filled the room. Green: The color that fills the empty space, the empty space in my heart. Then I realized that I was rejected because no one is like me. There are probably no people on this entire planet who would be personable to me: A shy, empty, humble guy. All I ever wanted was a friend, someone who wouldn’t abandon me because of my occasional craziness. I wanted someone who considered me an equal, not someone who’s opinion destroys our equality. I wanted a friend. I wanted a real friend.
I bounced off my chair after I heard my stomach grumble. As I walked out of my room, I had entered the kitchen, which, by surprise was filled with groceries. I saw bags and bags of groceries. I peaked inside them, identifying ribs, pop tarts, and all other sorts of other glorious foods to eat away my depression. I took a box of pop tarts and noticed that it was finally sunny outside, something not too common in winter. I walked to the glass door, and slightly opened it, careful not to let the cat out. I walked outside and closed the door. I slowly walked atop the brown porch, inching forward to the glass table, surrounded by leather chairs. I took a seat.
I struggled to open the pop tarts, but when I was successful, I just ate away. I continued to eat, occasionally looking up near the sun. Then I looked at the sparkly grass in my backyard. Glad the snow is gone. Snow sucks. As I finished chewing up my last pop tart, I noticed a boy. He was running around my backyard. His face disturbed me. He disturbed me. “Hey!” I screamed.
“Yeah?” He stopped running and looked at me.
“Get lost!” I yelled back after fully swallowing my pop tart.
“What? No! You get lost!” The boy countered.
“That doesn’t even make any sense!” I said. “You are trespassing on my property. Scram! Get lost!”
“You can’t tell me wha’ to do!” The boy was asking for a challenge.
“Oh, really!” I got up off my chair, and was pumped with the violent force of my fists. I ran up to the kid. I jumped off the porch, and got to him.
“Get,” I punched him. “Lost!” I punched him again. He fled, screaming of fear.
I looked down at my clenched fists. “Oh my god.” I said to myself, regretfully. “This is why no one likes me. I chase everyone away.”
I gripped my box of pop tarts and headed inside. As I walked past the kitchen, I heard screams in the basement. What the hell are they doing?
I walked down the stairs, still holding the pop tarts, and to my surprise, they were playing video games. This wouldn’t be a surprise if they were playing the video games they normally do, the ones I didn’t like. Of course they don’t! They decide to play the video games I like after I’m gone.
“What, uhh. What you doin’?” I asked, already aware.
“We’re playing video games.” My friend spoke.
No s***. “Well, why do you decide to play the good games after I’m gone?”
“We don’t care ‘bout you no mo’” My brother said in a racist tone.
“Look guys, I sincerely apologize for what I did.” I clenched one hand into my other fist. “Please forgive me.” I wobbled my arms back and forth.
“Get lost! You cannot even appreciate our friendship. You need to learn to accept it and stop pushing people away. If you do that, you won’t be all alone. Too late now!” The Sandwich Nazi imposed me to leave.
“Yeah. Go find someone else!” My crazy brother agreed.
“Come on, guys. Pleeeease!?” I begged.
“Hey, Mark?” My brother said. “Do you hear some ghost in the room.”
“Come on. Stop teasing him.” Mark’s friend commanded with a sudden voice. “That’s not nice.”
Suddenly, I heard my stomach compress. The Sandwich Nazi was right. I should’ve been slower with my food. I need them. But they’ll only accept me if I’m useful?
At my sight, my brother immediately sighed. “Ugggghh. What do you want?”
“I need to explain why you need me.” I said, bluntly. My stomach grumbled.
“Dazzle us.” Mark the Sandwich Nazi, said, sarcastically.
“You,” I pointed at the Marks. “need me,” I pointed at myself, clenching my stomach. “To get you food from the kitchen.” I finally finished. I dashed upstairs and went to the bathroom. After I returned, I asked for an answer.
“I’m useful for retrieving food.” I repeated
They were busy mashing buttons. Their eyes were glued to the screen. “Huh?” My brother said, cluelessly.
The Sandwich Nazi, rightly called Mark, replied. “Oh, he said some useless thing about fetching us food. Thaaaat’s not a valid point.”
“Hold up. Hold up.” My brother put down his controller. “This is very important. You don’t want to go upstairs in the middle of the night and risk getting yelled at.”
“Yeah, yeah. You don’t want that.” I agreed.
“I say he’s back in. Come on, Mark. We need the food.”
“Fine.” Mark, my good friend, agreed.
I asked if I could join them in their gaming. As a result, I had to go upstairs and retrieve sodas. While I retrieved sodas, my brother set up another controller for me to join. I went downstairs with the sodas.
“Drink.” Mark told me. “Those are for you.”
I guess they are treating me better.