Click. Click. Click.

With each click of the mouse, the view of trees grew larger on the flat computer screen. The room was dark, as it normally was. Not really a room, a freshly prompted white wall stood where empty space should be in the garage. The hum of the AC ruled from across the room, struggling against the summer heat to keep the man cave cool.

Click. Click. Click.

Again, the click of the mouse kept the movement alive. The faintly gray light created silhouettes upon the room. A messy queen size bed laid on the floor, with no frame to hold it up. The light casted a glare on the glossy Hustler and GameInformer magazine covers on top of the bed; both were reflected by a slender mirror in the corner. Aside from the hum of the air, the sound from the computer speakers, at full volume, washed over the players’ ears. His eyes fixated on the screen, he bites his lower lip. He stops his frantic clicking and hear the eerie soundtrack. The player wipes a strand of hair from his face and leans in, his face just a hand space away from the screen. He squints, looking for the signs of what he doesn’t want.
“Don’t pop up now, Slendy…”
The sound of white noise starts to pick up, and the player franticly starts clicking on the mouse again. His eyes wide, his full attention on the screen, he was unaware his door began opening. The light touched a figure that stood stock still, observing the player.
In the chair, the player clinches his toes and wraps his thick ankles around each other. He stops clicking the mouse, and turns the avatar around to see what the eerie noise is coming from.
“Hey fat ass!”
A shrill squeal filled the room as the large player falls out of his chair. Heavy breathing, on his back with his hands over his face, his head is shifting from the monitor to the door, and back.
“Don’t kill me, Slender Man! I’ll do anything you say!”
Laughter came from the figure in the doorway. Not sinister, but laughter of hilarity. The man stumbles in the dark as he enters the room.
“I got money. I know you don’t use it in your palace. Don’t eat my soul, Slender Man! It’s all I got left!”
The figure’s hand reached up and pulled the light, making the player on the ground wince. Slowly he opens his eyes and standing over him with a large smile was a long haired, slender young man with a soul patch: His best friend. With his heart racing the player shook his head.
“Ryan you asshole, you almost gave me a heart attack.”
Ryan nodded, “I know, Billy. But dude, you were so into your little game I had to bring you into the real world.” Ryan looks at the screen, which is now red with Game Over written. “The fuck you playing, anyways?”
Billy used his bed to help him up. Unlike his best friend, Billy was nowhere near slender. Chunky in every place, the former high school chess champion took a deep breath to calm his rapid heart beating. He dusted off his torn blue jeans and wondered inwardly how his room gets dusty. He looks back up to Ryan, who was lighting a cigarette.
“Slender Man.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow, “I know I’m skinny, but that doesn’t tell me what got your undivided attention.”
“I just told you, Slender Man. The master of disaster, the lord of the unknown,” Billy saluted, “The most awesomeest badass that the universe ever spawned.”
Ryan blinked. “You mean that fucking comic book shit that made those Twilight fucks go nuts in Wisconsin?”
“Fuck Twilight.”
Ryan shook his head, “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”
Billy nodded, “Twilight was a movie that almost game me an anus orgasm.”
“A what?”
Billy gave him a droll stare, “A urine ism. You know what I mean. Where your brain just fries and dies!”
“That… You mean an aneurysm, Billy.”
“That’s what I said, a urine ism.”
“It’s aneurysm.”
“I said that”
“You’re going to give me one,” Ryan huffed and grabbed his long, brown hair.
“I was playing Slender Man,” Billy said with a prideful smile.
Ryan went over to the computer, sat on the rotating chair and clicked out the game. He blinked as he tilted his head. “Are you on a website where you actually talk about porn?”
Billy nodded as he sat on his bed, “Yeah dude. Those discussions get heated quick.”
Using the mouse scroll, Ryan scanned the comments. Billy was right, things escalated quickly in the forms. He gave a half shrug and went to Facebook and signed into his. He stops and looks back at Billy who was reading an article about the next Assassin’s Creed. “Why aren’t you on Facebook?”
Billy looks up, his head tilted, “Because I don’t go to Harvard, duh.”
Ryan’s jaw went slack, “I have my doubts you finished high school but that doesn’t answer my question.”
“You saw the movie about Facebook, it’s for Harvard pricks.” Billy turned the page, “That’s why I chill on MySpace, where the real people are.”
Ryan fully turns in the chair, “Dude, Facebook is for everyone. And I seriously haven’t heard anyone mention Myspace in like eight years.”
Ryan was met with a blank stare.
Ding!
The sound of a message on Facebook caught Ryan’s attention. “Mark just messaged me.”
“That’s a cat who hasn’t scat as of lat.”
Ryan ignored him as he replied. As he waited for the reply he scanned his timeline. He clicked ‘like’ on a few marijuana legalization memes, tour dates of the Kottonmouth Kings, and his cousin’s new relationship status. A new message flashed, to show Mark has replied.
On the bed Billy looked around his room. On the far corner he noticed a cob web being blown by the airstream of the AC. His eyes shifted back to Ryan and sniffed the air. The smoke reached him and made him grimace and gag. Billy pulled his black Gears of War shirt over his nose and took a deep breath. With a shield against the smoke, Billy continue reading the Assassin’s Creed article.
Ryan gracefully lifts up and puts his cigarette out on Billy’s desk. He looks back, “Get your shoes on.”
“Where we going? Dairy Queen? Hi-5 Frozen Custard? Culver’s? Ben and Jerry’s Scoop Shop?” Billy listed off each ice cream joint with more enthusiasm and hope than the last.
“No, fat ass. Well, we might. First, we are going to Mark. He got some Mountain Dew.”
“Oh! Code Red or Baja Blast?”
Ryan shook his head, “No you idiot. Mountain. Dew,” he emphasis on each word.
Billy blinked and then realization hit. Mountain Dew was their code word for weed. Billy smiled, “Hell yeah. You driving? My license sort of got taken away.”
“How?”
Billy looked away quickly. “No reason.”
Ryan raised a finger and lowered it, then shook his head. There is no telling the depths of his friends’ stupidity. “Actually, we’re walking. You know I don’t got a car.”
Billy frowned, “We’re walking! But it’s fucking heat stroke weather out there.”
Ryan nods, “You got water. I checked your fridge before I came in.”
“Who let you in the kitchen?”
“Your mom let me in the house, my feet walked me to the kitchen. It’s sort of connected to the house, you know.”
“She’s not my mom, she’s my roommate. Who happened to have given me birth.”
The duo walks out of the dark garage suite and outside the side door. Billy winces and shields his face, letting out a bellow.
“Fuck! I should invest in some sunglasses.”
Ryan half shrugs, “You could, I don’t know, get out of your house for more than five seconds, then your eyes would be used to sunlight.”
Billy lowered his hands but kept the glare he spared for his friend. They began walking to the end of Billy’s drive way, as he pulls to a stop. Ryan stops next and looks at his friend. He almost asked what he was staring at but in the corner of his eye he saw it.
Across the street to the right, in the driveway laid two blonde German sisters sunbathing. Ryan nodded his approval with a sly grin as the older sister went topless and laid back down on the pool chair. Ryan turned slightly to see Billy practically drooling over the sisters.
They have been his neighbors for over five years now, and he stares at them every time they come from their house; yet he has never had the courage to talk to them. Billy knew who they were: His dream girls, the both of them. Any chance he got, he’d steal Old Man Roger’s blind poodle so he can pretend to have a dog to walk and go near their house. He’d hear yelling from the house, but he chalked it up to them being foreign and that’s how foreigner’s talk, according his Billy’s dad. Once he caught Morgen, the older sister, sunbathing topless on her back. Since then his crush escalated, but every time he tried to talk to them he forget how to talk. The best he ever could do was a wave.
Ryan smacked his back, bringing him to reality. “The fuck?”
Ryan gestured, “Go talk to them, lunchbox.”
“And say what?”
“How about Du siehst wunderschön aus?”
Billy blinked, “You know German?”
Ryan huffed, “I wanted American Sign Language. But every time I went to spell my name I ended up flipping off the teacher. So they put me in German.”

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