“No, screw that,” Pokey says, grabbing the kid’s arm in a huff. “You pick up another rock, and I promise you won’t like where it ends up.”
The child – himself, twelve years old again – struggles get his arm out of the teenager’s grasp. “Wow, you really are stupid,” the child-Pokey spits back, frowning as hard as he can at his future shadow. The child, physically, isn’t all that different from Pokey. Shorter, sure. Even a bit heavier perhaps, hair somehow even shaggier than the teen’s. The attitude, however… “Who’s so stupid they get that upset at someone throwing a rock at a dumb duck.”
“Okay, even if the duck is stupid, don’t just throw something at it,” Pokey tries to get the words out through gritted teeth. He knew he was bad; this shouldn’t be a surprise. Having to deal with himself like this, though, was still something he hadn’t planned to ever bother with. Had hoped that he wouldn’t. But here he is, playing babysitter to a younger, meaner version of himself. “They didn’t even do anything to you, genius.”
“They were ugly and worthless,” the younger Pokey says, sticking his tongue out. “Could’ve blinded me with how dumb it looks.” Then the boy goes silent, just frowning mightily up at the older Pokey. Then the younger Pokey does the only thing he thinks to do: he bites his captor’s arm. Hard.
Pokey yells more in surprise then in pain as he lets his younger self go, the tween happily running away with the intent to disappear. “Ha! I win again, you stoop! I always win!” The boy makes an “L” shape in the air with his hand as he continues to run away.
“Jesus,” is all the older Pokey can think to say, watching his younger self escape, disgust etched on his face.
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The child – himself, twelve years old again – struggles get his arm out of the teenager’s grasp. “Wow, you really are stupid,” the child-Pokey spits back, frowning as hard as he can at his future shadow. The child, physically, isn’t all that different from Pokey. Shorter, sure. Even a bit heavier perhaps, hair somehow even shaggier than the teen’s. The attitude, however… “Who’s so stupid they get that upset at someone throwing a rock at a dumb duck.”
“Okay, even if the duck is stupid, don’t just throw something at it,” Pokey tries to get the words out through gritted teeth. He knew he was bad; this shouldn’t be a surprise. Having to deal with himself like this, though, was still something he hadn’t planned to ever bother with. Had hoped that he wouldn’t. But here he is, playing babysitter to a younger, meaner version of himself. “They didn’t even do anything to you, genius.”
“They were ugly and worthless,” the younger Pokey says, sticking his tongue out. “Could’ve blinded me with how dumb it looks.” Then the boy goes silent, just frowning mightily up at the older Pokey. Then the younger Pokey does the only thing he thinks to do: he bites his captor’s arm. Hard.
Pokey yells more in surprise then in pain as he lets his younger self go, the tween happily running away with the intent to disappear. “Ha! I win again, you stoop! I always win!” The boy makes an “L” shape in the air with his hand as he continues to run away.
“Jesus,” is all the older Pokey can think to say, watching his younger self escape, disgust etched on his face.