Hey folks. It's been a minute, and I figured I should post something. I'll be honest, I wrote this in a couple hours while drinking, but I wanted to have something get the gears going. I'll probably write more in this setting (as vague as it is), so, let me know what you think.

It was a Friday night, and like any other Friday night I was sitting at my desk, mindlessly scrolling through forums. A nice set of tits there, an ass stuck in a wall there, a forty percent discount on any Latina, and I needed to act fast. I took another sip of my beer and looked down to see a message on my computer.

The message was from Laura, a close friend of mine. We’d been friends since high school. Neither of our fathers had been what we needed them to be, hers an abusive alcoholic and mine a paranoid schizophrenic. When college came around, not only did we both choose the same college, but we had the same major, Computer Science. Over the last semester, I hadn’t seen much of her, with me being busy at my job and classes on top of that.

“Hey, how did finals go for you?” she wrote.

I glanced at my second monitor, and minimized the tab. I always felt weird looking at porn while texting girls.

“They went ok. You?” I shot back.

“Not great. :/” The app notified me she was still typing. “Can you come over? I need to talk to someone”

“Sure. Be there in 15.”

I sat up and pulled the lever on my chair to put it back upright. I put on pants, grabbed my wallet and keys, and began my trek down the street. It was late, and it being a Friday night, the streets were loud with college students drinking and smoking and going about the usual Friday night hijinks, a girl bent over the railing, tied down with not a chance of escape, let her whimpers be known as I passed. Like any good citizen, I ignored her, continuing onto my destination. I did the same as I passed a middle schooler strung up from a lamp-post, and a pretty blonde’s head on top of the fire hydrant. I was off the clock; let someone else handle clean up.

I got to her apartment and knocked on the door. I waited for a moment, and then she answered. Laura was a small thing, standing a head below me with strait jet-black hair. Her eyes were red, like she had been crying. She was dressed in a simple black t-shirts and pink sports shorts, which showed off her slender legs. I tried not to think about her legs, though – I tried to think about her. I walked in, and she locked the door behind me.

“Hey,” I began, “Are you okay?”

“Jay, are you certified?” She looked to me and asked, almost on the verge of tears again.

I looked down to her. “Uh, yeah. Since about two months ago.” I paused and looked to her, my heart a little heavy. “Are you considering--?”

“I failed calculus.” She said abruptly. “I’ve already gotten the emails telling me that I’ve lost my scholarships.” She lost control of her tears and collapsed onto the couch, head in hands, letting out little anguishes into them. I sat next to her and put a hand on her back.

“But there’s other options, Laura.” I said, letting my hand coast up and down her shoulder blade, as I looked to her.

She looked up to me, her face red and ugly with grief. “Like what? A Loan? I’d just be bought in a year. And I can’t rent myself out at a university incubator, either; I can’t conceive. It would kill me anyway.” She let her breath shake for a moment, then calmly said. “Jay, please.”

“Wait, no.” I said. “That ain’t everything. You could appeal to restore your scholarships, check with your teachers for extra credit—”

“No, no.” she said, “I’ve already done that.”

“Then, let’s get you a job. Take a semester off.” I said. “I think the harvesting company is looking for a scout.”

“Jay.” She looked at me with a deep severity.

“It’s not worth it. I’d live another year, tops.”

(Part 1/2)