I've felt kind of sad lately, and I don't really know what to do about it...
Harvard. Yale. Stanford. Vanderbilt.
Malcolm sighed, placing the many college brochures he had down on the cheap wooden table. When you were a genius, and your ego was bigger than your entire family's egos combined, choosing between expensive, pretentious colleges was quite a difficult and daunting task. On one hand, they were all way, way out of his price range. And on the other hand, they were very far away from here. So that was a plus.
A peeved expression on his face, Reese extended his hand across the table, and when Malcolm tried to hold it, Reese instead swatted the brochures off the kitchen table and onto the floor.
"Reese, what the hell are you doing?" Malcolm asked, staring at him like the moron he was.
"I'm sick of all this college talk for you."
"Um, I have to go to college, Reese. I'm not like you."
Reese frowned. "But it doesn't mean you have to go so far away. I mean, Harvard? That's on like the other side of the world."
"Boston," Malcolm corrected, "but nice try."
"Whatever," Reese pouted and crossed his arms, glancing down at the scattered brochures, "I still don't want you to go."
"Why? Are you gonna miss me?" Malcolm teased.
"Duh, asswipe. Who the hell else will I have sex with?"
"There's always your hand."
"My hand can't give me a blow job and scream, 'Reese! Reese! Harder!'," Reese imitated, raising his voice to a high-pitched nasally whine, which Malcolm frowned out (because he TOTALLY did not sound like that... right? right?), "but, fine, okay."
"For what it's worth, jackass. I'll miss you too."