Boryledmeashtray

Huddle Me This

Albert rendezvoused with Sam after his embarrassing yet life-changing encounter at the cathouse. He found no shame in admitting he left the building still chaste, and in response, Sam urged him to keep the spotlight on the wins — "You're down a tic!" Rattled by the joke, Albert said, "You don't get to say that…" He argued that one must tic for this kind of joke to fly.

Ignoramus Susceptus

Sam was skeptical about the sudden, unscientific nature of "Gimmedemudders'" disappearance. Formula child? Really? Talk about a practical joke taken to the extreme. But why would he go that far, she wondered. As his closest friend, however, she was expected to show full support. There could be some truth to what processing emotions and trauma can do to a man.

Walking Headless

Walking back together while engrossed in the moment, the two followed the road without paying much attention to their surroundings or whereabouts. Sam and Albert found themselves in a very sketchy neighborhood, and the two good friends had a feeling one gets when shit's about to hit the fan. Unfamiliar with the area, Albert decided to plot the route back on Google Maps while Sam hastened her steps.

Not Enough White

Sam and Albert found themselves at the heart of The Projects. The realization hit like a brick to the face when they noticed the last white face they saw was twenty people ago. To their right was a man covered in tattoos who looked like he'd just gotten out of prison or was about to be sent to one. Ink-man stared at Albert, screaming, "I dare you to keep looking." Albert's heart was pounding so hard it almost carved a hole in his chest.

Wait A Minute

Scared shitless, Albert slowed his pace as yet another repressed memory found its way to the surface. It was bold of him to stop when the two friends were not out of the woods yet, but it was a high-risk, high-reward situation, for he knew, with any luck, he might be able to walk out of this situation alive, chaste, and tic-less.

Bory

A string of deeply repressed memories took Albert to a time when he was heading for the subway on the way back from his aunt's place. A girl in gymwear walked ahead of him with the kind of butt that hypnotized the virgins and weakened the resolve of the committed. He was much younger then yet still as inexperienced as he is today. Albert kept walking behind her, but he was getting nearer to his destination, the subway. All he wished was she would head the same way—anything for another minute of crack-staring, a creeper's star gaze. The stranger walked past the entrance to the subway... and so did Albert.

Hot on the Trail

Twenty minutes of butt pursuit later, Albert found himself in an area as unfamiliar as the one where he and Sam wound up. A group of menacing immigrants closed the distance to Albert and had him jumped, for no reason at all; it must have been a slow day for all we know. Minutes before suffering a concussion, Albert saw the lights fade away as he internally repeated, "Booty led me astray, bootyledmeasrtay... boryledmeashtray."

Goodborning Buttshine

Albert woke up in the hospital unsure whether he was experiencing reality or a vivid recollection of some dumb tic-induced memory. It turns out he didn't have any friends, let alone a female friend named Sam. A while later, the girl in tight gymwear entered the room and said, "Oh, thank God you are okay! I have to leave now." With great difficulty, Albert mustered every ounce of energy to say, "Wait... can I ask you a question?" And before giving him the chance to speak, she went, "Yes, boryledYOUashtray."