Chapter Text
It was really FUCKING hot outside, and John Grace wasn't having it. Damn lovebugs always doin' something and ruining his flow. He was in a very good flow state, as he gracefully frolicked in a field. Oh goodness. So full of whimsy and joy, the little John using his legs to the fullest.
As we stated before, damned lovebugs always doin' shit. His house was just along the side of the road. Yes, Mr. Grace over here lives in a nice little house, a decent distance away from town. So then they targeted his ass, and so it went.
"Say it ain't so..." John Grace was in disbelief. He couldn't have been out for that long to the point where the bugs started to get on him. No way that could've been a possibility! However, yes. It was a possibility and it happened. Perchance.
"dArn t0OOOTIN''''''''!" said the lovebugs. They damn stuck up that middle finger, then went. Middle leg. I guess.
John over here, he was already parched, his skin hot and clammy. He needs to go inside because it is very hot. It's like as if you were playing Among Us and they accused you of being the impostor, when you aren't.
It just gets you sweating bullets, because why would they accuse him of doing something so heinous?
He walked inside of his house. His house is nice and big, perfect for him and a guest if needed. It was a beautiful house.
Even if it was rural, that doesn't mean it can't have the same memories and value as one in the 'burbs. After all, in da clerb, we all fam.
He trotted over to the door, swung it open, and felt that fresh breeze of cold air conditioner air. "How refreshing..." John said with a hearty smile. (with his eyes of course.)
John closed the door, his temperature slowly declining. To be honest, field frolicking, it wasn't all that. It wasn't necessarily the most interesting thing in the whole world, but it's whatever.
He sat down in his kitchen, and ate some Frosted Wheat Squares. He didn't aspire to have the new "Cinnamon Butt Crunch" or "Fruity Pibbles" because keeping up with those trends aren't his life goal.
However, his wonderous, joyful Frosted Wheat Squares ritual got interrupted. There was a voice. A deep, seductive voice of a CORNBALL.
"sup bruhhh. anywhere, anytime!" Of course, John knew this voice, to an unfortunately knowledgeable level. He knew Mime very well, and so did he.
They were like two peas in a pod, but if one of the peas was like a roly-poly. I have no idea what I'm trying to say there. Moving on, John asked about his presence.
"What are you doing here! I was just eating my Frosted Wheat Squares."
"im mime and i have a query uuuuhhh i might need assistance with THE music program."
"Which one, there's like a bajillion DAWs."
"fl studio"
"Oh my days, bruh."
Now see, John liked to make beats to cope with the pain, especially with MIME since, sigh... you know how little Johnny boy over here is. His beats were far from superior as to say, but it was something rather than nothing.
Mime on the other hand, used to rap on SoundCloud. I wouldn't say it's quite the best, but John sure would.
..actually, he did! I have photographic evidence as to this. I hope you guys know how GAY John is for Mime. Oh, my two favorite homosexuals!
ts so gay bruh like bruh like bruh like ommmggggg brtuhhh like ts bruh like ts bruh
Mime was really needy. John was a sucker for needy men like this, so of course, he had to oblige. After devouring the bowl of Frosted Wheat Squares, he directed him to his room of bed. I suppose, you could say, it was a bedroom.
Mime followed him closely, looming over his fat pudgy figure. John Grace? More like, John "Representative of Goon. Or something like that, I dunno."
Even if they were just two peas in a pod, they were loving peas in a pod. When they got in the room, they completely forgot about the task at hand, jumping straight into his bed and cuddling. Aww. So cute!
John gave into the goon, and started KISSING the entity. So romantic, yet lazy. Get up, John. Get up get up get up getupogetupgupetup gET GETUP......
...
..... shit... it's been a while. Time passes, the clock ticks. Yes, he has a clock that still clicks and ticks like in the olden days. Why you may ask? He's just so fancy like that, that's all. He's fancy with his furniture, and also his clothing.
Just as a person, he is a. okay nevermind I wouldn't say he's a radiant beam of light to this world. That would be a lie. However, he tries. And that's all that matters. Is that he tries, and that he keeps trying.
2 hours have passed. It's not dusk yet, but it's beginning to get to that point, which is kinda bad for their productivity. Realizing this from John looking at his cell phone, he quickly realized that Mime forgot about the whole thing.
He had two choices, either to wait it out until Mime left and just embraced his cuddles, or get to work. Either sounded good, but the first option sounded gooderer. The latter, well, let's say that's what ended up happening.
John sprung out of bed and alerted Mime of how much they were slacking off. To Mime, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but to John, it was a day wasted. Not a day, actually, but just a few hours.
Still, they did nothing. Well done guys. They got all prim and proper, and prepared to boot up John's Personal Computer.
Mime dragged a chair from the dining room into his bedroom since John didn't have any other chairs in there apart from his bed itself, but even then his bed wasn't the best vantage point to see things at. They both sat down, John in his cute kawaii gaming chair, and pressed the power button.
"isnt this a Hewlett-Packard from like years ago lmaooo dude you can't be serious im ctfu"
...
It was silence for a few seconds, and thennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
