OP
I always love Fridays, at least the first 80% of them. I wake up knowing it is the last day of work before I can set up base and continue my quest to be the best pokemon trainer in the world. I try to ignore Javarious at work on Fridays, even though he keeps telling me that if I look at him again he will “yoke me up and turn me out.” I dont think he likes me, but its Friday so I say “word up javarious” and carry on pushing the grocery carts. I get paid on Fridays and always load up on my gaming essentials for the weekend. The Code aka Code Red Mountain Dew aka gamer juice. Monster energy drinks. Doritos - only the fire ones and frozen pizzas. Everything I need to smash Noobies and catchem all. I leave work and begin prepping to game. I try to open up the garage for as long as possible to let fresh air into my room. I do a combat roll into the the kitchen aka corner of garage and turn on my small counter oven. Throw that pizza in and combat slide into my gaming area or center of garage. The next few hours I dominate all sorts of pokemon. People clap for me and welcome me like a hero when I enter the towns. I am a god I think. But then there is a large growl and lights. Shit he is back. The noise and lights stops and a loud bang or door is heard. Its him. Its 230am. Its my fucking dad. Home from the soda bar. He is angry as fuck as he bounces off walls yelling at loud words like “nerd” “poindexter” “pussy where are you”. I drop a emp grenade aka cut off the lights and pretend I am asleep. He decided to not slap box me tonight. I will continue to train to knock this mother fucker out and gain entry back into the house. Dad aka Third Leg Greg will go down. Happy Friday
Monkey Business 
Clique