Turkish Dingle tried to show his moves over and over again, he wanted so much to impress blue tie, the rizzler, the guy he had loved since he first saw his gyatt.
But in the darkest and most intimate pit of his soul he knew that the two of them could never work.
No one could understand his dance moves, and the Reason beyond that was so fanum taxed that made him want to throw up, it was because of his race.
No matter how much of a rizzler or how
Ohio skibidi he was, he was not one of them; Turkish Dingle, as the name may suggest, was Turkish and since he wasn't American, he would never be the perfect american boy that rizz leader craved and desired for his whole life.
Turkish Dingle knew that the only guy that could make his love interest happy cold only be white shirt, and at every rizz and Ohio fanum tax between the two he felt a stroke and the feeling of dying inside. "It's for the better" he kept saying to himself during the whole party.
Anvhow no matter how much Turkish
Dingle tried to convince himself he was okay with this he couldn't help but notice the way Blue tie looked at white shirt. Blue tie rizz never looked at him like that. He had never been rizzed like white shirt was.
And on the verge of tears he started dancing, dancing in a way that none of that American kids would understand, not even blue tie