Playing with my balls

Christmas shopping is boring. In my third hour of walking aimlessly around the mall the other day with a friend, my brain told me to make things more interesting for myself. One way to do this, as my brain also suggested, would be to throw something.


Luckily for me there were some mechanical ball-dispensing kiosks nearby. I got me a giant pink superball, much bigger than the sissy little image of a bouncy ball you have in mind. And let me tell you, I’ll tell you, these things are designed to bounce like no other, by way of some secret government agency responsible for the weaponization of balls. Fuuuunnn!

Armed with my superball, it was time to invoke chaos. I looked at my friend. He looked down at the superball, then looked at me again. He stepped back and poised himself to run. I gripped it real tight and whipped that fucking superball as hard as I could.

The superball bounced a couple times, then hit the corner of a bench and launched itself to the left at an incredible speed, as dozens of civilians looked on in horror and covered their fragile human eyes. I ran after the ball while my friend sprinted away from the scene of the crime. I needed to see what sort of shenanigans my superball was having around the corner.

Around the corner, I found a small group of people had gathered to watch a store owner clean up a rack which had somehow been toppled over, spilling thousands of innocent packs of gum and lighters onto the floor. To the right of the store owner was a shiny pink superball, and to the left was a shiny pink security guard.

So of course I turned around and slowly walked towards the food court to find out where my dear friend had gone. I looked over my shoulder and noticed the shiny security guard (who was now holding the superball, incidentally) was walking towards me.

I ran. Really fast. I kept on running for several blocks once outside of the mall. Either I am a secret superhuman whose powers are only activated for kind of shitty reasons, or the security guard didn’t really want to speak with me all that badly, but whatever the case may be I have lived to write this update.

I am a fugitive. I will forever be in hiding. I have brought shame to my family, and my friend is actually still missing. I didn’t get my shopping done and I need to find a new mall.

Most importantly though, I need to get me one of them shiny pink superballs for Christmas.

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