Re: An AI story
Posted by Pat on February 18, 2025 at 01:35:03
from IP# 163.5.171.49 Mozilla/5.0 (X11; Linux x86_64) AppleWebKit/537.36 (KHTML, like Gecko) Chrome/132.0.0.0 Safari/537.36
in Reply to: An AI story posted by Pat on February 18, 2025 at 01:03:12:
LOL, and here's one if he was in a pie in the face booth instead. Its kind of corny but I think its hilarious!
-
Alex Lancaster clutched the crumpled flyer advertising the school carnival. His palms were slick with sweat. "Pie in the Face Booth," it screamed in bold letters. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. Of all the things heβd rather be doing β reading in his room, sketching in his notebook, avoiding human contact altogether β being a target for hurled desserts was definitely at the bottom of the list.
He was a wisp of a boy, with skin the color of bleached parchment and a dark curtain of hair that perpetually fell into his eyes. His skinny frame was usually draped in oversized hoodies, a shield against the judging gazes of his classmates. And now, thanks to a misguided sense of duty to his school's fundraising efforts and the persuasive power of his best friend, Ben, he was about to be the centerpiece of a sticky, messy spectacle.
The walk to the carnival felt like a death march. As he approached the "Pie in the Face" booth, a knot of dread tightened in his stomach. The air buzzed with the excited shrieks and laughter of other students. He could already hear the rhythmic "splat!" of pies impacting the current victim, a friend of his named Jeff.
The booth itself was a flimsy wooden structure, painted in garish primary colors. A sign above read: "Pie A Student! $1 a throw!" A chalkboard displayed a scheduled with "Alex Lancaster" written in big letters next to the "2:30pm" time slot. Yup, that was his name alright. Alex checked his watch. "Yep, its 2:30," Alex sighed. No doubt about it, he was next in line for the humiliation that awaited.
He was greeted by Mrs. Gable, an overly enthusiastic mother of another student, who flashed him a bright, almost alarming, smile.
"Alex, darling! Wonderful to see you! What a good sport you are! Now, off with your shoes and socks! We wouldn't those getting ruined!"
His heart leaped into his throat. Bare feet. In public. It was his ultimate nightmare. He hated the feeling of the grass, the pavement, anything really, against the soles of his feet. He mumbled a hesitant protest, but Mrs. Gable, oblivious, had already turned her back to him. With trembling hands, Alex complied, his pale skin flushing a delicate pink.
He stepped gingerly into the target area, and sat on a waiting folding chair, his legs dangling awkwardly. The first pie, a chocolate pudding concoction, sailed towards him with alarming speed. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impact. The splat was immediate and gloriously messy. Cold, sweet chocolate pudding exploded across his face, hair, and even down the front of his t-shirt. He gasped, instinctively wanting to wipe it away.
But then, something unexpected happened. A giggle escaped his lips. It felt... surprisingly liberating.
The next hour was a blur of pudding flavors β butterscotch, pistachio, banana cream, and a particularly vile-smelling tapioca. Each splat was a release. The initial embarrassment gave way to a strange, giddy euphoria. He found himself anticipating the throws, even tilting his head slightly to help the pies find their mark. He discovered that the shock of the cold pudding was refreshing, a welcome contrast to the summer heat.
He was covered head to toe in a multi-colored tapestry of sugary goo. His hair was plastered to his face, his clothes were ruined, and his bare feet were sticky and slimy pudding squished between his toes. He had to admit, he'd never felt so uninhibited. With each pie launched at him, he felt more and more excited.
The final pie, an massive pile of coconut cream covered in Redi-Whip, was picked up by a young girl who looked uncertain as to what she was supposed to do with it. She hesitated, and awkwardly launched the pie towards Alex. Alex lurched his head and chest forward, guaranteeing that the pie would hit its target. He was successful, and the hit him square in the face with a satisfying thwack. The crowd cheered, and Alex, still seated on the chair, grinned, a wide, genuine grin that revealed more of his teeth than usual. He realized that he was relieved - he was glad that the girl hadn't missed, and that she got the satisfaction of seeing the pie she through splatter all over his face.
"Alright, Alex, time to hose you down!" his friend Ben announced, grabbing a garden hose.
The cold water hit him like a shock, forcing a yelp from his lips. But as the last of the pudding rinsed away, leaving him shivering but strangely invigorated, Alex realized something profound. He felt clean, not just physically, but mentally. The layers of shyness and self-consciousness had been washed away with the strawberry and chocolate.
He dried off with a scratchy towel, the memory of the experience already turning into a funny story. As he shuffled off to the locker room for a warm shower, a small smile played on his lips. He was still Alex Lancaster, the shy teenager, but the boy who emerged from the "Pie in the Face" booth was, just a little bit, different. He'd faced his fears, embraced the mess, and found, buried under a mountain of pudding, a hidden reservoir of joy. And he knew, somehow, that he could face a lot more now.