MSPGxSkull

Skull needed a fuckin vacation. Desperately.

Everything had gotten almost to the boiling point in his life, and if not that, at least to the point of severe discomfort. So he booked a train randomly, not really caring where it went. The drive to just get away was overpowering any sense of logic. He popped a few tabs of Melatonin as he boarded the train and his ass hit the seat just as the drug carried him away into unfeeling sleep.

He awoke to a tall, gangly man tapping him on the shoulder with a bony finger, whispering "Sir?" over and over. Skull blinked away what sleep he gained and raised a hand to pacify his attacker. The man stopped his monotone verbal assault and turned and walked down the rest of the train, prodding other sleepy specimens. Skull stretched his weary limbs, the joints like wet pistol shots as they popped loudly. He got his meager briefcase and departed the train and entered the station.

It was a lot more rustic than the one he'd entered the train on. Almost as though it was ripped from the thirties or forties. Old scarred and graffitied brick walls and brass lights and an enormous glass ceiling. The people in their modern clothes and the train itself looked like some bizarre time-traveling society. He went up to the first check-in counter he could find, handing his ID and credit card over, hoping to rent a car.

The young and tired-looking man behind the counter tapped out something on his keyboard and didn't even look at Skull as he took his plastic. Maybe it was later in the day, kid probably wants to get home, reasoned the older man. He set his briefcase down on the floor of the station and patted his pockets, ensuring that everything he needed was on his person. The young employee handed back his card and told him that unfortunately there were no good rental cars he could afford on such short notice, but that there was a very drab hotel he could stay a few days at that was within walking distance.

Skull frowned. Not much else he could do.

"Hey stop!"

Skull winced at the sudden screech from the barely-pubescent employee and turned away, only to catch the blur of a man running away with his briefcase.

"Well shit."

The kid apologized and gave a half-hearted "Welcome to Wisconsin". Skull just collected himself and walked outside.

It was cold. Really cold. How could these fucking cheese-eaters survive in a climate like this? He wrapped himself in his arms, shivering and looking around. His eyes fell upon a small bar, right across from the station's entrance. Fucking typical Wisconsin. He made his way over when he spotted someone walking along the sidewalk. Something about him made Skull's eyes linger.

He was just under six feet or so, with really baggy dark pants and white shoes. His hair was close-cropped and almost black. Skull couldn't think of why he was staring, but then it hit him. The guy was wearing a fleece shirt with dark purple sleeves and a black chest.

Impossible. What were the odds?

The young man stopped and turned. He looked Skull straight in the eye. And then he just stood there, the iridescent clouds of vapor steaming forth from his nostrils almost golden in the streetlight. Skull looked up and down the empty street and saw no approaching vehicles so he crossed and stood in front of the young man. He raised his chin at Skull and Skull nodded back, his mouth opening as he tried to find something to say.

"You wouldn't have heard of something called Undertale, have you?"

The words felt stupid, awkward dialogue pulled from cliched hack's asshole. But those were the words he chose to speak.

"Yeah. It's pretty good."

The young man smirked as he said this. But his face seemed to have a perpetual scowl because of his eyebrows.

"You wouldn't by any chance happen to have heard of /utg/, have you?"

"Yeah."

Skull swallowed, this was bizarre. Just as awkward as what he expected any sort of 4chan meetup to be like. But the young man didn't look like he was getting aggravated or shying away like he thought they might. He found the courage to ask the key question.

"Have you heard of a guy named Microsoft Paint Guy?"

The young man burst out laughing. It was deep and almost sounded like a cartoon villain. He raised a fist to cover his mouth, unable to stifle the laughter but attempting to hide his face.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I'm him."

Skull swallowed and exhaled, his breath an icy cloud.

"Well I'm Skull."

All the awkwardness and hesitation seemed to melt away from the meeting and MSPG led the older man into the bar. He asked if Skull was a drinking man and Skull told him no and he said that tonight he would be. He picked a booth for the two of them and asked if he wanted something light or hard. Preferring to tiptoe into the Wisconsin drinking game he asked for something light. MSPG went up to the bar and asked for something called Leinenkugle's and came back with a couple bottles slid one across the table to Skull.

"Nostrovya."

"What?"

"Cheers."

Skull raised the beer to his nose and smelled it. It smelled like beer. He swallowed dryly and quickly pounded a mouthful down his throat. It tasted like everything alcohol he'd tried: like shit. But slightly less shit than usual.

It seemed like hours that they chatted. It started snowing outside and by the time they'd gone through the circus that was /utg/ and MSPG explaining his absurdist take on the whole affair as a sort of mirror for the ridiculousness of it all several inches had accumulated on the street. Eventually they started talking shop. MSPG explained that he had no real end-goal after his first story, no set ending to it all and that every image or bit of text he wrote was something he pulled out of the moment. Although Skull had tried this for some time, improvisation was a little harder to do for him than it seemed to be for the other man.

They talked of the economical environs within the good ol you es of ayy and what they thought to be the various causes. They talked of future presidents and presidents current and past. Of life in their necks of the various woods. MSPG's adventures as a young cannibal living in a cabin. Skull's personal life. The differences between fact and truth and whether or not it was more important for honesty or tact. They were both a lot more normal than what they expected each other to be. The waitress came over and placed two fresh bottles on the booth table and Skull looked down at the swarm of empty bottles in front of him, reeling slightly in his seat.

"How do you fuckin cheesheads drink this much?"

"Cast-iron industrial grade Irish livers, old man."

"I think I've had enough."

Skull tried to get out of his seat and stumbled, bracing himself against the table and sending several empty bottles clacking down onto the floor. The barman looked up from his glass and scowled at him. Skull looked away, his face burning. MSPG was chuckling and telling him it was time for them to go. He got out his wallet and began to count out twenties.

"No."

"No?"

"I'll pay."

MSPG stared at him then folded his wallet back up and stuffed it in his pocket with a smirk. As Skull staggered over to the counter to pay the younger man called a cab. Soon they'd exited the warm bar and stood in the frigid cold, with Skull's wallet feeling some ten pounds lighter. He tucked his hands into his pockets and shivered openly, swaying back and forth.

"It's f-fuckin cold."

"No, but it'll get colder later this week."

"What?"

He must not of heard the older man because he didn't answer and stood with his eyes closed breathing slow clouds of steam into the falling snow, the flakes accumulating on his dark hair and melting almost instantly. Skull watched the snow.

Eventually a Prius with a taxi light pulled up alongside the curb and they got in. Fortunately the Mexican driving it had pumped up the heat so Skull could stop shivering for a few minutes as he relayed where they were going. MSPG got in next to skull and slammed the door and buckled himself in.

"Where you wanna go tonight, guys?"

Skull relayed the hotel's location to the man and they took off. As they drove something began to gnaw at the back of his mind. It kept withering away at him, his predisposition towards the younger man to strong. He licked his lips and turned to look at him.

"You are the FIRST and ONLY guy your age who wears their fuckin seatbelt."

MSPG smiled and explained it was a force of habit from his youth. And they had intermittent small talk as the warm and silent taxi approached the hotel. They stepped out and paid the driver and made Skull made his goodbyes.

"Hell no old man, you're not gonna even be able to find your room at this rate. I gotta see you to your room and shit. Boyscouts and shit."

Skull made towards the door, all but shouting that he knew how to take care of himself and pushed the door. It yielded and his feet slid in the snow and he was only prevented from faceplanting by the younger man grabbing hold of the back of his jacket. The older man could almost see in his mind's eye the smug pair of fangs from his drawings. He relented and let the younger man support him to the front desk.

He checked in and MSPG helped him to the elevator. They rode in silence up the floors. Skull couldn't help but take in the way the young man smelled. His breath was like a perpetual mint mouthwash, despite all the beer they'd drank. He smelled kinda like an old shirt you'd forgotten you'd warn for a while. Thoughts began to coalesce within the drunken haze of Skull's mind.

Bad thoughts.

They hobbled to the room like a four-legged mutant and entered the room after fiddling with the fucking retarded electronic lock. MSPG helped the older man to the bed and stood over him, breathing heavily and composing himself, running his fingers through his short hair.

"Well."

Skull looked up at him. This was TOO cliche. Too much like some of MSPG's terrible greentext stories he'd written. He knew that in order to achieve any sort of catharsis for this night, and to please whatever audience was reading this, he'd have to commit.

"Hey guy?"

"Yeah?"

"You gonna do any gay shit now?"

Silence.

Utter and all-encompassing silence in the dimly-lit hotel room. Then the young man's face broke into a broad grin and he started a wheezing chuckle and Skull started to snicker and soon they were both laughing and MSPG was bent over at the waist and leaned against the wall and Skull was coughing, unable to breathe. After a while they stopped and MSPG stood up and looked smirking over at the older man.

"Goodnight Skull."

"Goodnight, Microsoft Paint-"

"Alright. I'll see you on /utg/ I guess."

"Ya sure you don't wanna stay the night here? It's a big bed."

"Nah. Sleep tight you degenerate old man."

"Goodbye you fuckin pervert."

And by the time the door closed and auto-locked behind MSPG Skull had fallen asleep.