THE EARLY BIRD GETS FUCKED IN THE ASS

[SOREN SOMERSETT]

Soren didn’t really see what the fuck was so great about ants. Like, cool, he got that they were strong relative to their body weight and everything. But…okay, come on. He could lift a gummy bear too, assholes.

Soren Skyler Somersett was lurching sleepily up a ragged path, clambering over boulders and picking his way through clusters of pebbles. Five in the morning was way too fucking early for anything to be awake, but he needed to make sure he got out here and back before all the people came. People were stupid. All of them. Every single one of them. Soren groaned as he rounded a bend and faced another enormous hill. Fuck, just how many of these things were there on this trail? He could feel his quads killing already as he began to ascend the slope.

His left arm tightened around the parcel clutched between his elbow and his side: a black garbage bag containing the spawn of the devil, Sadaam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, Justin Beiber, and every other fucking person that he hated, all mashed together in one giant conglomerate of vigorous fucking: A genuine replica jersey from a real member of the Spanish professional football club known only as FC Barcelona. Yes. This shit was getting thrown off the top of Hyde Park Mountain and into whatever river that was that ran down there, because Andoni Zubizaretta was a fucking dirty manwhore who Soren had definitely seen bribe the refs like, eighteen times in the past season. And that stupid midget Lionel Messi just like, sucked all around at life. And Carles Puyol was a lying cheat who should probably have pursued acting instead of soccer, because he was pretty damn good at faking injuries. And also because fuck Barcelona, man.

Dude. This was going to be so sick. Harry was going to laugh and laugh and laugh as that fucking jersey met its gruesome end in the bowels of whatever fucking river that was down there. What, the Hyde Park Mountain River? That made sense. No, wait, actually, that was fucking retarded. Were rivers ever named after mountains? Ever? Was there an Everest River? No. Or a Washington River? No. Was there a Mississippi Mountain? Actually, he was pretty sure Mississippi Mountain was like, a tent company or something. But still. Not a mountain. What had he been trying to prove with that again? God damn, he was so scattered at five in the morning.

He felt sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and yanked out the first thing he found: his pocket edition of The Great Gatsby. He raised the book to his forehead, the pages absorbing the liquid in three clean swipes.

Yes. Soren Somersett owned a copy of The Great Gatsby. Yes, he read it on a regular basis. Because fuck you, that’s why.

[wendy]

Addison liked her sleep, but for somebody who was easily woken up, she didn’t get as much of it as she would’ve liked. With school, of course, she had to get up early, which she had learned to deal with. Unfortunately, her roommate got home early on weekends. She worked a very late shift at her job and always came home around five. While the girl got to crash into bed, Addison could no longer fall asleep after waking up. Normally, she would take a very long bubble bath and make breakfast before going on a hike at Hyde Park. Today, she had decided to switch things up. She would have breakfast and then go on her hike because you couldn’t very well go on a hike on an empty stomach.

It was a little strange being at Hyde Park so early, especially since she was used to hiking with a few other people either ahead of her on the trail, or behind her. This morning, it was empty and quiet and cool. Addison rather preferred it now when there was nobody else to get in her way. You were hiking; there was no need to stop in the middle of the path for a breather! At the very least, step off to the side so others can get by you. Maybe getting up at five in the morning would be worth it if she could enjoy her hike without anybody else around. Her favorite part of the hikes was when she came across really big hills. Sometimes she could bolt right up them and others she took her time; either way, whenever she made it to the top, Addison would let out a victorious cheer.

This hill had fresh footprints on it. How curious. Were there really others who came out this early? Well, she would find out once she got over this one. … And maybe she wouldn’t cheer this time around. It was a little embarrassing when others were around (unless they cheered with her; she liked those people). The person who’d just climbed the hill had stopped a few feet away, in the middle of the path. Grr. He wasn’t familiar from later morning hikes. Addison pulled her ponytail tighter and approached him, unable but to help wondering who he was, why he was here so early, and what was in the bag. Oh, and what book that was. Addison stepped around him as best she could, and looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun. “What book is that?”

[SOREN SOMERSETT]

Mr. Gatsby. Dear, poor, fucking Mr. Gatsby. And the green light. God, Soren loved the green light. He loved the green light so much. Almost as much as he’d loved Kaká when he’d scored the game-winning goal last night. In a totally non-homo, straight guy way.

God damn. The green light. Best literary metaphor ever. Fuck, he loved the green light.

“What book is that?”[/b]

Soren’s head shot up from the book, startled. He shut it instinctively, stowing it in his bag with lightning-fast reflexes. “Uh. Porno magazine,” he replied hurriedly, clearing his throat. “Y’know how we dudes are.” Because what kind of pathetic loser read Fitzgerald for fun? And what kind of pathetic loser even knew that The Great Gatsby was written by Fitzgerald? Maybe Soren needed to start getting football games for his xbox or some shit.

Right, Soren. Football games. That’s totally going to make you less of a nerd.

It was way too early.

This was awkward. Soren pulled his phone from his back pocket, scrolling aimlessly through his texts from the previous night. He really needed to teach his auto-correct to stop calling him Soreness. Maybe if he typed his name enough times, his phone would like, magically…no, Soren. No. Why would you even…God, call yourself smart. Was there like, an auto-correct settings thing hidden in the phone somewhere? Maybe this girl knew. No, Soren, obviously this girl wouldn’t know. What the fuck are the chances of her having the exact same phone as you? Like, 1 in seventeen, eighteen hundred?

Soren glanced her up and down a few times, presumably to see if she looked like the type who would have the same LG Shine model that he did. But obviously he wasn’t going to find that out. Why would he even…Jesus Christ, he was so conflicted. But anyways. She had straight-ish, curly-ish brown hair (wow dude, genuine description right there), and green eyes the same color as…something else that was green. Ugh. Too early. Why had he gotten up this early again? Hiking and reading, right. Neither of which appeared to be working out too well for him right now. But that was alright. There was potential for a girl he could score here. And not a bad body, as they went. Certainly better gazoombas than that girl he’d hooked up with two nights ago. Or had that been last night? No, two nights ago, definitely two nights ago. Last night had been the ginger with the nose ring. Incidentally, where in hell had she gone between last night and this morning? Oh well.

In any case, the chick before him could easily score a 7 on the Soren Somersett scale of fuckability. Maybe an 8, depending on whether or not you factored that really really hot chick he’d hooked up with last Tuesday, because she totally threw off his entire bell curve system. Maybe she could be the outlier or whatever that thing was he’d overheard that one time he’d walked past the AP Stats classroom on his way to the bathroom.

“So, uh,” Soren cleared his throat again, stowing his phone back in his pocket. So that wasn’t going to happen right now. “You, uh, come here often?”

Damnit, Soren. Let’s just try to be as cliché as possible. See how well that works out.

[wendy]

It most certainly was not because in the time it took for him to answer her, she could see the title quite clearly. “There’s nothing wrong with reading The Great Gatsby.” Addison said as he shoved the book into his bag. “I mean, it’s good enough to read more than twice.” Addison could speak from experience as she’d read it four times. Her English teacher had inspired that for reading it in class led to more learning that reading it for fun during the summer before eighth grade did. She bounced on her feet a little, never having been one for standing still. She’d come here to hike, hadn’t she? If he couldn’t hike and talk at the same time, then that was his loss as she wasn’t really looking forward to standing around. Addison started to walk backwards, rather slowly in tiny steps, figuring he’d follow if he really wanted to keep the conversation going. It would probably be a good idea to turn around and pay attention to where she was going, but she’d hiked this trail so many times, she ought to have known it like the back of her hand.

He took his phone out and she couldn’t help but to feel a tiny bit offended. Maybe he just wasn’t used to conversation this early in the morning. She hardly was. Addison kicked at the ground and immediately regretted it; she hadn’t wanted to actually get her shoes dirty. Addison knelt to brush the dust off, finding it a good way to spend her time until he’d stopped looking through his phone. She stood, placing her hands on her hips, and waiting rather patiently, admiring the scenery until he’d said something. It would’ve been rude for her to speak otherwise, right? Since he did seem oh so enthralled with his phone. Again, Addison started to walk backwards, unable to help herself. Besides, hiking with somebody else could be fun. It would be like the buddy system. … Oh dear, no, that wasn’t the right way to word it. That made it sound like a horror movie.

“Yes.” She replied once he’d finally put his phone away and said something. Tilting her head, Addison stopped where she stood, realizing the distant between them now. It was probably a good idea to wait. “Usually not this early, though.” She added, wishing quite suddenly that she had stayed at her dorm to take her routine bubble bath. Oh well. “What about you?” Addison asked, not having recognized him or put his face to name while she had waited for the silence to be broken.

[SOREN SOMERSETT]

Soren was still pretty fucking ticked off at himself. You come here often. You. Come. Here. Often. Are you fucking serious? Are you fucking serious right now? You’re Soren Skyler Somersett. You’re the dude. You’re the shit.You are where it’s at. You’re a straight A student, all-star athlete in all 3 sports, lead in the school play, prom King, and the best you can do is ‘You come here often?’ You fucking smartass, you.

How did he even get girls? Honest to fucking God, if he were a girl, he wouldn’t date himself. He could be so uncreative and boring at times. And there was no way in hell that this girl was going to dig him, what with the idiotic pickup lines and nerdy literature and-

“There’s nothing wrong with reading The Great Gatsby.” Addison said as he shoved the book into his back. “I mean, it’s good enough to read more than twice.”

…Unless she was one of those girls.

Okay. Alright. He could work with this.

Soren drew himself upright, rolling up his metaphorical sleeves. Time to get his hands dirty here, if he wanted this girl in his bed at any point ever. “Oh.” He allowed a small smile to return to his lips, drumming his fingers on his knee. “So you’re a Gatsby fan, eh?” He raised his eyebrows. Would that seem creepy? That won’t seem creepy, you idiot. Chill the fuck out. And how long had it been since he’d last seduced a girl? 36 hours? Damn, he needed to work on his endurance. He was getting rusty in his old age.

Man, how pathetic had that last sentence been?

“You a fan of the green light?” he asked nonchalantly, pulling his knees up to his chest and staring all wholesomely off into the distance. The green light. Man, he loved that shit.


“Yes.” She replied once he’d finally put his phone away and said something. Tilting her head, Addison stopped where she stood, realizing the distant between them now. It was probably a good idea to wait. “Usually not this early, though.” She added, wishing quite suddenly that she had stayed at her dorm to take her routine bubble bath. Oh well. “What about you?”

“Meh. You know. Early bird gets the worm.” He winked, swallowing the “and shit” that had naturally followed his last sentence. Did this girl look like she swore? Probably not. Best to stay on the safe side. “Besides.” He stretched, grimacing as his shoulder joints cracked. “Gotta love the old outdoors, right?” He flashed another grin, patting the spot on the rock next to him. “Did you wanna maybe come over and sit down?”