Part 1, Chapter 1: Spoken Language
"Preferring to avoid using spoken language, speech that sounds very monotonous or flat, speaking in pre-learned phrases, rather than putting together individual words to form new sentences, seeming to talk "at" people, rather than sharing a two-way conversation"
It was just a regular Tuesday in your regular life. You strolled down the damp sidewalk, lined with freshly budding dogwood trees. These streets you have walked since childhood we're all but barren, the townspeople sheltered to escape the midday rain. The sun hid behind the gray, freshly rained clouds, setting a perfect atmosphere to your melancholy mood as you strolled into your favorite, mormon friendly coffee shop. You lifted off your hoodie and whipped your head back and forth to dispel the droplets of rain water that had seeped through the thin fabric of your green and gold water polo sweatshirt.
You swiped a hand through your damp hair as your eyes pick up something in your peripheral. A large mirror on an oak frame, surrounded by pictures of other white people, sipping on their high calorie, whipped cream-topped "coffee". You turn your body to face the mirror and take a good look at your wet features.
Ash brown hair, matted down on top of your head from the rain, laid on top of an almost translucent white globe of a face, monochromatic save for a galaxy of brown freckles that dot your puffed cheeks from the hem of your jawline to the bridge of your nose. A perfect contrast to the bright green blue of your almost feminine eyes lined with dark black eyeliner and powder pink of your thin lips. Your doll-like face comfortably resting on a slightly chubby body, adorned with your favorite water polo hoodie and tight purple booty shorts.
"Damn Jared…" You sigh under your breath, "How did an attractive piece like you end up dryer than a female pussy with David in a mile radius?"I mean even for a mormon it seemed like love continued to escape you at every turn.
You huffed again as you turned away from the mirror and trudged to the cashier to order a weak breakfast tea. A drink as bland as your sex life but the only one that mormons were allowed to drink.
The overly happy cashier smiled as your ordered your shitty drink and told her your name was, "Slamming". You though that when she would yell that out that it would make for a very spicy meme. And to be honest, memes were the only reason that you still continue living. If only you could make your heart as happy as the dank memes did. But that seemed like it would be a far cry away from the present.
When the barista properly memed, you walked over and collected your lukewarm, sewer water and stalked grumpily to your seat to drink in peace. You rested your cup on the mahogany table and gaze out the adjoining window at the lazily moving clouds as they drifted away, letting slivers of sunlight pierce into the old cement streets.
When would it be your turn to experience true love? You thought you had found it in your last boyfriend. But you were blinded by his perfect body and his quality memes. Luckily you had only given him you heart and not your body so he wasn't able to take your mormon powers away from you when he left you for another. Now that you thought about it, you had never found out who had averted his eyes. In anycase, it still destroyed you when he walked out, taking all of your body pillows and gay, furry erotica with him. Maybe you should text one of your friends to ask if they could set you up with someone. But knowing their sexual prowess, maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea…
Sipping on your tea and deep in your thoughts you hadn't heard the chime to the doorbell ring or the order that had been placed. It was only when you hear the barista scream out did you look up from your morose thoughts.
"SLAMMMMMMIIIIINNNNNNG" Her voice rang out through the coffee shop and wetted the pants of everyone as they were reminded of Ethan Bradbury.
Well, everyone except for you as your head shot up from your tea and your eyes darted to the service counter. You hadn't ordered anything else, had you? Why was the barista memeing again? Was she mocking your dank, stinky memes? Does this nigga dead ass finna die?
Just as you were squaring up to drop the hottest roast of 2016 your eyes fell upon a large man who walked over and received the drink from the worker. Your mouth dropped as you laid your eyes on possibly the most attractive human you had ever seen.
He was huge, body wise and, as you expected, probably in his pants too. His oval shaped body looked smooth and warm, his chest was adorned with two saggy, squishy moobs that you fantasized laying your head on. His legs were thick and hairy like a tall redwood going through a sex change. Hugging his greek god-like body were a pair of old, stained light gray running shorts that came to hang right above his knees. His shirt was in a similar state to his pants, a washed out gray with some mysterious stains on it that made you wonder when the last time he washed his clothes was. Over that was an over-sized, black leather jacket that spread over his back and down his arms accentuating his low hanging, chubby arms that you yearned to be held in. You lingered your eyes on the cursive, pink pink lettering across the back that wrote out, "2Zoom4You". But it was his face that drew in your gaze the most. Twinkling blue eyes hiding under dusty brown hair, greasier than Donald Trump's tax returns. A bright smile stretched across his sweaty, red face, making his sexy eight chin stick out under the hazy light of the cafe.
Every second you stared at this masterpiece of a man you could feel your belief in religion slip and your boiipussy moisten. Beads of sweat formed on your hairline ran down to get caught in your overgrown eyebrows. Your breath quickened and your body temperature rose considerably. With every move he made, his entire body jiggled with him, especially when he turned to look you right in the eyes.
Oh… Oh god! He's looking at me! Why? Do I look weird? Is my makeup not on fleek? Did I forget to wear my mormon purity belt today and he can sense my moistness? All of these thoughts raced through your head and the mysterious zoomer in the leather jacket, walked over to your table.
"Hey there cutie. Why are you lookin' so nervous?" A musky voice snapped you out of your stupor. Bright blue eyes looked down at you cheekly. You felt the redness on your cheeks spread to the rest of you boyish face and down to your equally boyish pussy.
"I'm Zach. How ya zoomin'?" He quirked, simile widening across his glorious face. And it was at that time that you realized,
you were in for some hot, stinky memeing.