Personal Narrative: Cody Manson

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I have two things to tell you.

One: I 'm not gay. There hasn 't been a day in my life where I have thought about sucking Cody Manson 's dick, or getting fucked in the ass by Cody Manson, or making out with Cody Manson.

Two: I 'm a really shitty liar.

Do you think you know Cody Manson?

You don 't.

As much as I like Cody Manson, I sure as hell don 't know him.

No one knows who Cody Manson is.

~"who is cody manson?"~

The moment I walked into the art room is the moment I realized I was in love with him.

His hair shimmered in the light, illuminating the golden colour of the highlights in his hair. His hands were hovering over a large sheet of white paper, a pencil in hand.

I deeply inhaled. He was…

"Beautiful," I mumbled,
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I picked up the deformed blob I call "Squidshard". The assignment was to make a clay sculpture of a pop culture artifact, so I chose Squidward. The blob came out wonderfully (for a blob), I didn 't do the report and I ended up failing the project. Oh. Well.

At least I can leave the building now. I walked back to the table with Cody 's unfinished masterpiece, picked it up, and left the room.

As I took a step into the hallway, I was immediately intercepted by a group of football savages. I tumbled to the ground, taking the blob and Cody Manson 's masterpiece with me.

The blob shattered into 2 million pieces. Goodbye forever, Squidshard. May your legacy stay in my heart forever.

I felt slight pity for the broken mass of clay on the ground. Damn it, I spent so little time on that!

I sighed, leaving the mess on the floor. I stood, brushing off my clothes, picked up the piece of artwork, and continued walking. Some janitor can clean that up. I have shit to do.

My mind wandered back to Cody Manson. Who the hell is he? He seemed rather calm and collected at first when I murdered him, then made a successful attempt to pacify me, broke down into a self-conscious mess, then composed himself and became an asshole
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I continued walking, my pace slightly faster than before. I needed to get out of here before...

Suddenly, all of my personal space was assaulted as I felt a pair of soft, warm hands on my shoulders. Cody Manson’s piece of artwork flew through the air, landing near the abandoned water fountain.

“Tissuees!!” a shrill, feminine voice rang through my ears. Fuck. “What 's wrong?! Are you feeling suicidal again?”

The source of the voice invaded my vision with a pouty lip, lime green eyes, unnaturally curly blonde hair and 4 layers of makeup on her face. Juliet Harrison. One of the most popular girls in the school. Well known for her inhumanly large breasts and for fucking everyone on the volleyball, football, and soccer teams. I fucking hate her, but she still finds the need to stalk me and treat me as if I’m 5 years old.

I pushed her off of me, making sure I was forceful. “Get the FUCK off of me and please, for the love of god, leave me alone.”

Juliet’s pout descended further as she proceeded to shove her ungodly breasts in my face in an honest attempt at a hug. “God, Kleenex! You’re too sad! What happened after middle school?
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