//------------------------------// // What Can Go Wrong // Story: I Blame You // by Whitestrake //------------------------------// What you may read in this, as you have the option to leave at any point, is the bastard offspring of a Skype call with my friend Proto, whom you will read about by his real name: Jay. This is a dual self-insert that will mainly be done for shits and giggles. Some of the content within may be considered offensive, because I’m not censoring Jay nor myself, we are rude, crude highschool sophomores that joke about things no sane human being would. You have been warned. $%$%$%$%$%$ “In chips.” My friend, Jay, gave the punchline of a joke. “Goddammit, Jay.” I said through gritted teeth, trying not to laugh, and failing miserably. “We're going to hell for that one.” “Oh sure, we go to hell for a dead baby joke, but not for laughing at Bus Roh Dah.” Jay quieted down, but was still laughing. This was how our conversations went, telling jokes of horrible tastes, Jay helping me edit The Equestrian Bloodmoon, or talking about funny aspects of My Little Pony. The two of us were probably the most fucked up bronies to ever exist, and that says something. “Bus Roh Dah was different, that was actually funny,” I replied. How could he not get this? Dead baby jokes are just awful, but Fus Roh Dah videos were hilarious. “Hey Taylor,” Jay began. “What?” “What's grosser than gross?” “I don't know, what?” I think I know where this is going. “A garbage can full of dead babies.” Jay started laughing, “You know what's grosser than that?” “No, what?” God help me. “The one at the bottom is still alive.” I choked up at that one. “You know what's grosser than that?” “Go fuck yourself, Jay.” “He has to eat his way out.” Jay's laughter went up by about ten decibels. “You know what's grosser than that?” “I hope you burn in hell while Satan rapes you.” “Well, fine, be that way.” Jay finally shut up, which I found to be much more enjoyable than I should have. I got back to work on my favorite side project, which I was currently soldering one of its circuits closed. I probably should have unplugged it before starting, but that was my mistake to make. “MUFFINS!” Right as Jay yelled that, the circuit completed, using my hand as a conductor. “Sonofabitch!” I dropped the cylinder onto the floor and clutched my hand. Having a few thousand volts run through my hand hurt like, well, having high voltage electricity running through my hand! I couldn't think of an analogy that was better than that. “Did you shock yourself again?” I could hear the trolling in his voice. “The fuck do you think?” “I think that you are a complete moron for working on that project.” “Let's see you build something like this, then.” Some men just want to watch the world rage. My project would revolutionize the world, if I ever completed it, that is. It's not like I go around wasting my time about it, either, this is seriously difficult. “Do you seriously think it's going to work?” Jay never did like my wild ideas, unless they pertained to comedy. “Everything about it is flawed. It will never work.” “Go back to being scared of Cupcakes, Jay, and let real men do what has to be done.” “We still going to hang out tomorrow?” “Always.” With that, I ended the Skype call and went back to work. Tomorrow was Sunday, and I'd already finished this week's Bloodmoon update, which gave me plenty of time to work. Just a few more calibrations and this bad boy would be ready to rock. Faster than light travel, FTL for short, was only theorized to my knowledge, and this amazing piece of all American technology was the closest anyone had ever come. Years ago I set out to make this dream a reality, I came close, but the experiment exploded violently. But this time, oh this time, I'd succeed, I’d make believers out of the entire world. The device was compact, powerful, and ran on a rechargeable battery, all good qualities to have for an experimental prototype. Some people wondered how a teenager could create something like this, to which I would always say that my best ideas come to me when I need to sleep. What can I say, my muse is a fickle bitch. My laptop pinged as the program finished it diagnostic run-through, all systems functioning and the device was ready to fire. The trial run tomorrow would be my second, I’d rather not make a fool of myself in the event this didn't work. On one side of my room, I had a stool with a Pepsi can resting on it, a similar stool was in front of the opposite wall. I flipped a pair of polarized sunglasses over my eyes and gripped the cylinder of my precious invention. With the simple press of a button, the can was gone. But it didn't reappear on the other stool, like I’d programmed it to. My laptop beeped the Skype alert: Jay was calling. Frustrated about my partial failure, I answered. “Why did a Pepsi can just just fly out of my laptop?” “What makes you think this is my fault?” I asked my friend. Seriously, the guy blames me for shit I don't do. “Because you always have something to with freaky shit.” Jay sounded annoyed, then again, I would be too if an aluminum can flew out of my laptop and smacked me in the face. “Remember the zom-” “I get it, Jesus Christ, you don't know how to let shit go.” Now that had been a wild weekend. “But, seriously though, a Pepsi can?” “Taylor, I don't joke around with soft drinks, you know this.” Jay was being serious for once, not a good sign. “Now, why the fuck did a can fly at me?” That made no sense, the FTL gun was specifically tuned to a certain receiver, or other FTL guns, just in case I get it working. But, Jay didn't have one of my prototypes with him. Wait a second, he technically had parts of it. During a small accident, my fault, his old laptop was fucked up beyond recognition. So, as an act of apology, I built him a new one, out of scrapped parts from my previous attempts at FTL travel. He now had Frankenstein's Laptop Monster on his desk, doing his homework for him, I'm an awesome friend. Had I even put a receiver in there? Yes, yes I did, as a replacement for a USB port that needed to be installed. “Jay, I may be mistaken, but I think I just spit in the face of God.” “Sweet.” %$%$%$%$%$% Sunday finally came, after a night of fitful sleep. I actually dream about The Equestrian Bloodmoon, that's my main source of ideas, and that had been a freaky one, definitely NSFW. But, that was behind me, my destination was only fifteen minutes away, now. My old Chevy might not look nice, but she gets me where I need to go, and right now, I needed to get to Jay's. A dip in the road jostled my truck, and my FTL gun fell into the floorboard. I reached down to pick it up. An eighteen wheeler sounded its horn, “Shit!” I swerved to avoid the near certain death. Yep, just another day in Alabama, the third time I nearly died on this road, one that rigs weren't even allowed to drive on. I'll admit, I'm not the best driver when fully focused, so the added distraction of my precious cargo only added to the danger I posed behind the wheel. I pulled into Jay's driveway, his parents were away, so were his annoying ass neighbors. “You ready to test this out?” Jay asked, holding his laptop, prepared for the possibility of a repeat of last night. “You bet your ass I am.” I grinned as I set up the target. If Jay's laptop would fire whatever is hit with the FTL gun like a cannon, then we needed to test the impromptu weapon's capabilities. A foam block would be our target. Jay tossed a baseball, and I hit the projectile with pinpoint accuracy. Like clockwork, the ball flew from the laptop and destroyed the foam brick, success! Several more trials later, my friend had an epiphany. “What if you shoot the laptop with the thing?” I looked at Jay like he was a genius. “Well, why the fuck not?” I aimed and readied the gun. “What's the worst that could happen?” I fired. And the world exploded.