~Graham Turner~
♫A ring ding ding ding d-ding baa aramba baa baa barooumba♫
Graham stirred slightly. He rolled onto his side, pulling whatever was within reach as close to his head as possible. He was quite content with just basking in the darkness, enjoying the sweet numbness that came with sleep, and whateve the fu-
♫Wh-Wha-Whats going on-on ♫
No…
Oh GOD no…
PLEASE…
♫Ding ding♫
Graham shot an arm out, piercing the darkness. A dull light lay on the other side. A harbinger of the endtimes. An enemy to all things good and righteous in the world. It must die. It must be cast into the flames of oblivion before it can breed. IT MUST FEEL THE RIGHTEOUS FURY OF THE GODS THEMSELVES! BEGONE FOUL-
THUD.
Graham opened both eyes and found himself mostly sprawled out on the floor. A leg was still caught up on the bed and he was entirely wrapped up in some sort of comfortable net. Or blanket. Tomato, tomahto.
♫Lets do the crazy froogg♫
The lad frantically flailed his arms, searching for the audio offender. All he wanted was to deliver upon it the sweet embrace of silent death. Why resist, oh dear cell phone? Why-
He spotted it, finally. Without hesitation, he scooped it up, flipped it about, and silenced the musical blasphemy before it could harm him further. Then a sigh of relief left him. Today he had bested the audiobeast, but he was no fool. One day, and that day might be sooner than he’d expect, the Frog would win and he would be no more.
…
Graham yawned then got to his feet. He rolled his eyes and walked off to his lovely wardrobe. Or, y’know, smallish black bag containing the few identical outfits that would comprise the entirety of Graham’s look for the next few years. Sure, he might do something like change a color here or there, or find a new band’s shirt to wear, but the fact of the matter was that he was lazy. Oh well. Shoot ‘em. He reached in and pulled out whatever he touched first. So two pair of jeans, a Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and a single sock. He frowned, tossed one pair of pants aside, and rummaged back through the bag for another sock and a pair of skivvies. Gotta be fresh and all that jazz.
With all of that bullshizzle settled, Graham grabbed a toothbrush, some toothpaste, a towel, and shuffled off to take a shower. Because, apparently, people are offended by the natural manly musk of a man. Well, whatever. Manly male musk’s too good for them anyway.
Shortly later, the deed was done. Graham left the shower mourning the death of his morning musk. He returned to his room and deposited his dirty clothes carefully wherever the hell they landed on the floor. They were Future Graham’s problem. Present Graham needed to grab his glasses, grab some grub, and get to…
Fuck. Way to drop the ball, Past Graham. Inconsiderate little…
Alright, whatever. So it was his first day and he had no idea where to go. No biggie. He would just…
FUCK.
Graham made a mental note to seek out the nearest time traveler and hitch a ride back to yesterday so he could deliver a large, spicy, 100% American-made bowl of Kentucky-fried whoopass to his lazy self. Seriously, he had two jobs: not die, and find out tomorrow’s schedule.
UGH.
Graham crossed over to the stand by his bed and picked up the glasses. He slapped them on and took a look around. All-in-all, he didn’t end up with a bad room. Not that it was exactly the room he was expecting, though. So apparently his neighbors didn’t take kindly to his err...fits of excitement and optimism. So he maybe claimed ownership of the school whilst shouting profanity to the heavens. So he accidently nearly fell while trying to take a leak...out the window...despite being next door to a bathroom...Still, did all that really warrant his being placed in another room all by his lonesome?
Probably. Shit.
Oh well. Scorpios and Little Bubby would just have to live on without him. Maybe this was for the best. Flying solo meant tons of perks. Like pants! Completely optional. That’s a plus. And who was there to keep him from delving deep into the internet at odd hours of the night? Absolutely nobody. And pantless expeditions into the internet at night?
…
Graham coughed, finding reality once more. He grabbed his backpack, a pen, and some good luck before heading out the door. To…uhm...well, maybe an upperclassman would take pity on a poor lost soul and point him in the general dir- Nah. Not happening. If the roles were switched, he’d just as likely tell the runt something along the lines of,
“Ye dare to address moi, shitscum? Know thy place and kneel before thy GODS.” Or something.
“Dear God, I’m a drama queen.” he muttered.
In any case, he had settled on a destination. Cafeteria. Food would energize, revitalize, and just be fucking delicious. The three major nutrients required for a growing bo-
OH HA HA. Hilarious. Jeez, he couldn’t go twenty minutes without even himself making short jokes. Helluva way to start a day, Graham.
But it was a start.
A brand new start of a brand new day.
The first true day at Herculean Academy.
Where the next generation of superheroes are raised…
…
…
What the bloody fuck was he doing here?
Savo,
fellsing,
Forsythe,
Achronum,
PatientBean,
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Morose,
VitaVitaAR,
Rune_Alchemist,
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