You know what? Fuck you, fuck the author, fuck Farfallah, and fuck this plot. I'm not gonna engage in this dumn shit anime crap. I don't need no stupid paper towels to dry my stupid hands like a stupid normie. I've already had three seasons of bullshit, and I ain't taking an ounce more. Wearing Kanye shades should be punishment enough.

I blow the guy a raspberry, flip him the ol' two-finger salute, and dry my hands on my shirt. "Fuck you and your shit knife."

"Do not call 'World-render' a simple nohz, you gloopy bratchny!" yells the tall idiot, but it's too late.

I open the bathroom door, but instead of seeing six idiot bad boys monologuing in a hallway, I see one lanky silly-strings bad boy in a bathroom. Hmmm... weird. Last time I checked, I was leaving the bathroom, not entering it.

I try again, turning around and leaving the bathroom, just to enter it again. So this is how an aneurysm feels like.

The weird, worm-on-a-string boy is leaning against the most-likely-pissed-on wall with that signature smirk every bad boy has. My inner bad boy senses are tingling. Or maybe my gaydar. Perhaps both. I would bet a pretty penny that he has something to do with this.

Just to be sure, I turn around once again to exit the bathroom, just to enter it once again, followed by one of his dumn anime giggles. Yep, I'm dealing with a magical bad boy.

Not to be confused with a magician bad boy. The worst thing they can do is try to make a heist or steal your social security number. Or make a mediocre tv show. I'm talking to you. Chris Angel. No, this is an advanced bad boy, full of magic, mystique, and a magic stick up his cave of wonders.

"Fufufu, having fun, my droogie?" he says, his eyes sparkling with magic and a hint of homoeroticism. "I'm afraid you will find denying me my pleasure to be... hard. Rock hard."

On second thought, it might be less of a homoerotic hint and more of a "predator" vibe. It now dawns on me that I'm alone in a neverending bathroom with a guy significantly bigger than me wielding a knife. I need an adult.

They say that madness is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. I think Einstein said it. Must be true, since I saw it on that one videogame with the island and the shooting and stuff. And while it might be true, I don't think Einstein ever had to escape a shanking in a public bathroom with only one exit, so forgive me for being a little mad and attempting to escape once again via the door. I run with all my might, only to return once again to the bathroom, and, even worse, crashing with the chest of the wispy bad boy, which might be as thin as a single spaghetti, but man if he ain't solid. I knock against him hard enough that my dumb shutter glasses fly out of my face and into the ground.

Gross. I ain't putting those back. I'm gonna get pink-eye.

"Oh," says the boy, taking a step towards me and getting uncomfortably close. "What do you have there, my droogie?"

I take two steps back, which is the equivalent of one of his long steps. It proves to be useless, since he takes two steps forwards, and another two more, pushing me against the wall, with him looking down at me very, very closely.

Okay, I'm officially freaking out here. Can't go back, can't go forward. There is only one thing I can do at this point. After all, this is not the first time we have been in this situation. So, come on, kids. What do we say when a strange person is trying to take us against our will?

"You're giving me an erection," I say as I immediately go limp. I would shit myself, but, you know, kinda running on empty.

He, however, presses my chest with one of his huge yaoi hands, preventing me from going down to the floor while his other hand touches my face. My right eye, to be exact. "What an interesting set of glazzballs you have there, droogie. Purple as lilacs in summer. I don't have one of those. The mark of Alexandria's Genesis. The power of long life, at the tip of my rooker. Those glazzballs of yours are worth a lot of pretty polly. Do you rassoodock fillying them for me?"

"Did you wash your hands before touching my face? Because I don't think you washed your hands."

"Don't worry, my droogie," he says, caressing my cheek. "They will let me be like your true knight before long."

I'm definitely getting pink-eye after this.

"Thanks, but no thanks," I say, pushing his hands away. "I've no intention to gamble away my eyes. I need them to see and describe shit."

He doesn't seem to like that, as he grabs me by the collar and lifts me eye to eye, with his own rainbow eyes sparkling with magic and friendship and shit. He pulls his knife to my face while licking his lips in anticipation. "It will only be a short eegra, my droogie. I will even let you choose the eegra! Come on, what will it be, then?"

Now, kids. Every bad man has an off button between his legs that you can press to make them fold into themselves. It's easy to find! Just find the weird bulge between his legs. Pretty hard to miss. And the good thing is that the harder you press it, the more effective it will be! I, for example, use my leg to kick at the man's button, making him drop me, and drop himself in the process. Hooray for escape buttons!

"No means no, you fuck!" I yell before turning around and leaving the bathroom. Hopefully, he will be distracted by his throbbing balls to make any magic chicanery happen and actually let me leave the room.

And I'm right! Sort of. Because I do leave the bathroom, but I don't land in the hallway, but on... God dammit!

"Son of Adam," says the figure on the throne that materialized at the other side of the door, in an infinite space of columns and water. Farfallah, again, is fucking with me.

"Bitch, what now?" I yell.

She doesn't seem phased by my outburst, retaining the same matter-of-fact demeanor that her earthly counterpart tends to exhibit. "You have made contact with the interloper, and he has even given you the chance to select the contest. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, son of Adam. Why do you run from it?"

"Is that what he was saying?" I ask. I still don't know what the hell he's saying half the time. I don't speak edgelord. "Look, I don't wanna bet my eyes for some stupid thingamajig I don't know about. Seems like a lose-lose situation for me."

The goddess leans forwards, and a mischievous smile forms across her face. "Seems like you are not aware that this is not a request, but an order. He wants your eyes, and he will not let you go until he plays you for them. And I'm not inclined to break his spell to aid your escape. To me, there is but one way forward."

Ah, so this is how it is. I'm trapped until I win, or he lets me go. This bitch...

"So, either way, I have to play with him to escape," I say.

Farfallah leans back again, pleased with herself. "I'm glad we have reached a concession."

Reality faded once more, only leaving a door in a vast darkness. Cool, I'm fucked, then. I either play and win, which, given that he is a cheater and an idiot, seems to be the hard choice, or lose my bargaining chip and he lets me go, and I have to narrate what happens around me via smell. Neither seems to be a good option.

Well, there is the third option to kick this whole can of worms down the road. But how to do it? A game to get him out of my hair long enough to escape and not be bothered by him for a chapter or two. Hmm...

Ah, I got it! I just have to conjure the wisdom of annoyed uncles and disinterested babysitters on what to do when they want some peace and quiet from that annoying crotch-gobbling they call children. Let's hope it works.

I step through the door and into the bathroom once again, where a recovering douchenozzle is standing up and staring daggers at me. Thankfully, he's not throwing his real dagger, which is now tossed aside next to him.

"You!" he yells, lunging for the dagger, but I'm faster, stepping on his hand before he could reach it.

"Zip it, dingleberry," I say. "Want my eyes, no? I'll play you for them. But if I win, you have to give me whatever you stole from Farfallah."

His pained expression changes to a smirk as his eyes glint with greed. "Interesting, interesting! My droogie, you are proving to be quite interesting, indeed. To be an ally of the gloopy bog, you must truly be quite unique! I accept your challenge. Let us have a horrorshow spar!"

I twist my foot a little more, just to wipe that stupid grin off his face. "Slow down, skippy. Remember, you told me I could choose the game. There will be no fighting."

Even as I'm laying down the pain, he shows no hurt or discomfort. He is truly a weirdo. "That I did, my droogie. That I did. Tell me, which eegra will you choose?"

I smile, letting a bit of my bad boy smirk show. "What about hide and seek?"

"Hide and seek?" he repeats.

"Hide and seek," I say. "A game so simple, even kids can grasp the rules."

I let go of his hand, which makes him grab the knife and thankfully put it away. He stands up, pulling his wispy hair behind him, which, gross, and gives me a smirk. "I know the rules, you simpleton. I ittied to skolliwol. But, just in case, can you make them clear?"

"Easy. I'll count to ten. You hide, and I go find you. If I find you, I win. If I cannot, you win. Simple, right?"

His smirk goes to lengths no smirk has gone before. I practically wrap around his face. "Then, I accept. But, be warned, you shall never find me!"

I smirk back. "I'm sure you won't. Now, then. I'll start counting." I cover my eyes with my hands, making sure that I speak as loudly as possible. "Twenty, nineteen, sixteen..."

I continue for a few seconds until I reach zero. I open my eyes, and to my utter surprise, it works. He is no longer in the bathroom. "Ready or not, here I go!"

Let's try to open the door. To my relief, it does go into the hallway, where the six bad boys are still there, listening to Aiden's monologue, which seems to be winding down.

"... and so, it is my dream, to have a club where bad boys can be bad boys and live our fantasies as it is our God-given right! With booze, bitches, and bad boys!" says Aiden, raising his hands like a prophet.

I approach Brayden, who is in the back of the group picking his nose. "What did I miss?"

"bla bla bla, we are bad boys, bla bla bla, we want to be bad, bla bla bla, bad boy right, bla bla bla," he says. "basically, he wants to do the same as us, but bad."

Figures. I don't have the energy to fight him right now. "Well, this has been fun, but we have to go. Hayden?"

Hayden, who is at the front of the conversation, looks back at me, confused. "But, we haven't-"

I grab him by the arm and pull him away. "I said, let's go!"

We leave the front of the bathroom amidst jeers and mocks, with me pulling everyone away.

I wonder how long will it take until that idiot realizes that I don't intend to look for him? A kid can take a whole day until they realize that it was a ploy to have some peace and quiet for an afternoon. A magic bad boy with an obsession with winning? Hopefully, it will take a little bit longer.