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heheheheh, nigga does seem to get yelled out a hell of a lot

Bender it is.

Name: Bender Johnson
11th Grade (I think that's around 17, but I might be mistaken on that)
Considered an introvert by those who notice him, but he does actually enjoy interactions with other people. His social anxiety prevents him from starting a conversation, and he'll only speak with people who talk to him first. He also tends to be unable to say more than five words at once, and due to his lack of friends, he spends all of his break time standing alone, staring aimlessly at walls, floors, electrical outlets, and anything else that happens to be around.

The Inept

“Aren’t you going to school today, honey?” asked the middle aged woman
“No, mom.” said the son
“Why not?”
“No point. No friends. Can’t.”
“Oh, Bender, you always say that, but you know you always enjoy yourself when you’re out with people.”
“Know that. Don’t care. Won’t.”
“Won’t what?”
“Won’t go.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t want to.”
She sighed, “fine, then. Do what you want.”

The boy went back to staring at the wall. For some reason, he found it comforting. It was one of the few constants left.

The Cafe

“Girls Chase Boys” by Ingrid Michaelson was overpowered by the din of the patron population at Iron Horse Coffee Company. “I do quite enjoy thiis song, yes,” said the young man aloud to no one in particular.

The young woman working at the cashier asked, “sir?”
...
“Hm?” he replied
“Are you going to order or what?”
“What iis this song playing currently?”
“...I dunno.” she said with a quizzical look on her face
“A-OK!” he said as he walked over to a table, neglecting to buy the coffee he intended. He took a seat at a table already occupied by another man.

...

“Uh… hello?” he said to this strange young man
“Hello! What may be your name?” Frederik replied with exuberance
“Uh… Dan.”
“Nice to meet you!” he reached over the table and shook his hand with both of his, “I am called Frederik, it is a pleasure!”
“Uh… Thanks… Hey,” he looked at his wrist, “I’ve got an appointment to get to, I should, uh, I should get going. Bye, uh, Frederik.”
“Goodbye, Dan!” he waved

Frederik sat by himself, intermittently looking out the window and looking at the ever growing line of people. One particularly angry looking man came in and bought a single cup of coffee, it caught his attention.

He looks annnnngry Frederik thought.

This song is my guilty pleasure, and I'm not afraid to admit it.

Also, you should edit the first post with all the character names, and maybe a one sentence bio.

yeah, I like it too

I was going to do that, actually

edit: done did it

The Neighborhood, Part 1

“So where’s this dude live?” asked the young man driving
“Uh… next right.” replied the one in the passenger’s seat, a baseball bat laying on his lap
“Mitch, put that bat in the back.”
“Nah,” replied Mitch, adamant that they would need it on the ride, “we might need this baby.”
“Yeah, and we can keep it in the back until we do.”
“Nah, Larry. We can’t.”
Larry let out an audible “ugh,” and told Mitchel: “Whatever man, just make sure you’re ready once we get there.”

…

The two men pulled up in front of a nice, if plain, home pretty deep into the neighborhood.

“This the place?” asked Larry. Mitchel nodded. “Well, let’s get moving then.”

Larry and Mitchel walked up to the door, bat in hand, and rang the doorbell four times. A woman came to answer it, “what do you want?” she asked, failing to notice the bat in Mitchel’s hands.
“Uhh… Dude, I thought you said it was a guy.” Larry said to his partner
“It is. Dunno who this bitch is.” Replied Mitchel, crassly
“Excuse me? Who the hell are you two?” she asked, blowing smoke in their faces
“Jeez… Listen, lady, we’re looking for a guy. A, uh, what’s his name?” Larry asked
“Uh, Jim, I think. Or James, I dunno.”
“Well, whatever, we’re looking for him. He here?”
“No. He’s out.” She replied, almost with disappointment.

“*(censored)*.” Said Mitchel, “Well, now what?”
“I mean,” Larry started, “we’re here now. We’ve got the bat. We might as well do something.”
“Ight. I feel you.” Mitchel slowly raised the bat and slammed the woman on the left side of her head, knocking her out. “That’s a nice robe she has.” he said once she was on the ground.

The two men dragged her into the living room and laid her on the carpet. They closed the front door and made their way upstairs. “Holy shit! This dude’s *(censored)* loaded.” said one of them.
They made their way through the drawers, taking anything that caught their fancy or was particularly shiny. “I think that this will cover the money he owes us.”
“I would say so!” Larry and Mitchel let out bellowing laughs, unbefitting of their thin stature. They left the house, their pockets stuffed and minds clear. The woman laid ever still on the carpet.

your stories make me fuzzy on the inside

me too for what it's worth

The Neighborhood, Part 2

Across the street in a modest ranch that had seen better days, an old woman was looking for a postcard. “Oh… Randy… Where did I put that?” She was confused. She knew that what she was looking for was in the home, but she couldn’t, for the life of her, remember where she had put it. Perhaps she could call her husband, maybe he would remember, she thought. She picked up the phone and called the office where he worked.

A young woman picked up the phone, “Hi, thank you for calling Marriott Courtyard Hotel, this is Jessica, how may I help you?”
“Hi dear, I’m… I’m looking for a Randall Jones.”
“Alright, what room is he in, miss?”

...

“What do you mean?”
“...Uh… What room is he staying in, miss?”
“Why would he have a room?”
“This is a hotel, ma’am.”

...

“What?”
“This is the Marriott.”
“When did this become the Marriott?”
“We’ve been in this location for 15 years, ma’am.”

The old woman quickly hung up the phone. She thought it strange her husband never told her that where he worked had become a hotel.

She considered stopping by for a few days.

Oh man, is poor ol Rosemary gonna get kilt off?

The Neighborhood, Part 3

In one of the two family homes, a man sits hunched over his desk adjusting his glasses. “Damn it!” he yells, leaning back in his chair and looking towards the ceiling. “Why can’t I find anything?” He was angry. Another day had proven fruitless. He looked to the clock hanging on the wall, “Shit, 8:30? I’ve been looking at this all day… Wait, where is he? He should be back by now.” The man stood up and checked the kitchen, “Dan! You home?”

No reply.

“Hunh. Where’d he go again…? Doctor’s appointment? Something like that.”
He heard the tumbling of the lock, “oh, speak of the devil.”
In walked a young man, 20 years of age. He threw his keys on the table next to the door. It was clear he was very comfortable in the house.

“Dan! Welcome home.” Said the man
“Hey, dad. Good to see you’re not at your desk.” Dan replied
“Well, aheheh… yeah. You, uh, you want anything for dinner?”
“Nah, I’ve already eaten.”
“Oh, uh, heheh, cool, cool. Where, uh, where were you today?”
“I had an appointment today. I told you. Ran a bit late.”
“A bit? You were out for… gosh, how long?”
Dan cut off his father, “six hours. Did you even notice me leave?”
“No, I didn’t. You should tell me when you’re going out.”
“I did! Plus, I mean Jesus, dad, I’m 20 years old now.”
“I know! I, I know. Just… Just tell me next time.”
“Dad, I did tell you.”
“I… Okay…”

...

“You’ve gotta let it go. You’re scaring me, dad.”
“I just… I know something happened with your mother. I… I have to figure out what it was.”
“She got in an accident and she died. End of story.”
“How dare you… How can you…?”
“Dad, I’m not deluding myself. I know that she’s gone. I accept it. I’ve moved on. ...You should do the same too.” Dan walked up the stairs to his room.

To an empty kitchen, his father said beneath tears, “I can’t.”

The Center, Part 1

These frivolous gabs. Why am I even here? I deserve far better than this. Thought the impeccably well dressed man sitting on the bench. He had been sitting for at least three hours, thoughts of the uselessness of those around him rumbled in his mind.

He was a man of honor, but not a kind one.

He watched aimlessly as people passed by.

Wait… He thought, that man looks… curious.

A man of tanned complexion barreled down the street with no regard to his destination. Perhaps I should follow. thought the well-dressed man.

He stood up with a grunt and crossed the street. This should be promising. He gave a crooked smile.

The Center, Part 2

“Why’d you have to go, man? Why’d you have to leave…?” a young man, black, said to the sky.

It offered no response.

“Damn… If only we didn’t go that way… And that lady, too… Shit, man, we *(censored)* up big time didn’t we?” He let out a stifled laugh. “But… Why in the hell was you the one that died…? If there’s a god up there, he sure ain’t just. You… You had so much talent… You had a future, man. You were going places. Why?! Why did you die on me?! DAMMIT.” The young man yelled to the sky outside of a small recording studio.

He had just walked out of it. Hands empty.

“I’m nothin, man. I’m no one. And I never will be.”

10/10