You huddled in your warm blankets, staring blankly at the TV screen. You had no
idea what crap movie you were watching. Something John had recommended. It was pretty lame, so you hadn't paid attention to half the movie, and you never would.
'This isn't something Dave would watch. It's not 'ironic'. That means this movie isn't cool. Yeah, this is totally lame. Hmph.'
To explain your childish thoughts, you looked up to Dave. You thought he was so awesome. And hot. You wanted to be exactly like him. You have to admit, you had a tiny crush on him. I mean who wouldn't? You surely thought everyone wanted a piece of that. But you'd never think Dave would think you were cool. You were, well, kind of a dork. A 'not ironic' type of dork. And you really wanted Dave to think you were awesome too, so you always tried to imitate him in a way that was not obvious.
'How am I supposed to get Dave to like me if I'm a nerd like John? Ew John...I'm like JOHN, HE'S SUCH A DORK OH MY GOD HOW LAME.
No....no, I'm not like John. I'm cool. I'm ironic. I can prove it.'
Determined and full with adrenaline, you jumped out of the heap of sheets and scrambled to your mirror. You slammed your hands onto your drawer and stared at your reflection. Leaning forward and bringing your face closer to the glass of the mirror, you examined your face, your hair.
After taking out a comb and styling your hair to make it look as close to Dave's hair as possibly could, you began to strip of yourself of your clothes. You knelt down to your dresser and ransacked through all your drawers to find a shirt that looked like Dave's. You couldn't find one, so you picked out a few shirts and started attacking them with a pair of scissors; Clipping them, cropping them, trimming them, and snipping at them. After you finished murdering your unfortunate clothes, you sew the necessary pieces together. And you made sure you stitched them perfectly.
Slipping on your crafted shirt, you inspected yourself. This shirt was hot. It looked like Dave's exactly. Triumphantly, you clothed yourself in your best pair of jeans, but you weren't like Dave yet. You needed one more thing, and it was terribly obvious. On your desk were a pair of shades Dave had generously given you for your birthday a month ago. You paraded over to your precious shades and glided them onto your face. Standing in front of your mirror once again, you admired yourself. It was like looking into the reflection of Dave Strider himself; except for the curves and hair and all. You had never felt so sexy in your life because you were always too busy or lazy to fix your hair or dress up.
Of course, Dave wasn't only cool because of his spicy looks. It was his attitude and his facial expressions that contributed to his awesomeness as well. You tried to look serious and did a couple of poses in front of the mirror.
You were loving this. Suddenly your brain hatched an idea. For a school project-play a while ago, you had a sword as a prop and your teammates let you keep it. You sprung to your closet and wrapped your eager hands around the plaything and pulled it out like Link in the Legend of Zelda. You started swinging your fake katana around like a moron until you heard laughter at your window. You quickly turned to your window and blushed in embarrassment when you saw Dave at your window.
"What are you doing?!"
He asked with bursting with laughter. This was actually the first time you've seen him laugh like this, but at this moment you didn't care or even realize. You dropped your rubbery sword to the ground and covered your red face with your hands.
"Daaaave! What are you doing at my window, ohmygod!!"
He jumped into your room and walked in front of you with a tormenting smile on his face.
"Well, I was going to surprise you from your window, because you know. That'd be ironic."
Both of you stood there in silence, your hands still covering your face.
"How much did you see?"
"When you put your pants on."
You almost choked.
"What are you trying to do anyway? Are you trying to be like me?"
You nodded, still perplexed. He chuckled and the next thing you knew, you felt a tender hand rest on your head. You looked up at him, seeing each other's eyes through the nocturnal darkness of the shades.
"_____, you're more ironic than I could ever be."
The next day, you decided to go on Pesterchum. Dave was online.
-- (chumhandle) [__] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 16:13 --
__: Hey Dave! You there?
TG: hey _____
TG: anything you need
__: Yeah, I was going to ask you about something that happened yesterday.
TG: no problem
TG: what is it
__: Yeah ok so...
__: Why were you climbing through my window yesterday?
__: You never told me when I asked you.
__: I mean, you said it was for irony but that doesn't seem right.
__: Like...that was super extreme.
-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering (chumhandle) [__] at 16:16 --