Rock Swanson

19 December 20XX

Boku no Uchi

DEPRECATING GAMES

Boku wa Rokku desu. Amerikajin desuga, Nihongo wo chotto hanashite imasu. Mada naratte imasu. I am Rock. I am an American, but I speak a little Japanese. I’m still learning.

It’s all thanks to this little girl. What else can I say? Me, her, and the games we play, she changed me. I couldn’t stand all that weeaboo shit before, but look at me now. I’d kick myself.

I busted open her lip and got her some ice cream to suck on. Such a damn, small thing, such a goddamn schoolgirl: little bird, chiisai tori, Chika-chan. Se ga hikukute, totemo kawaii nee.

I disgust myself, I tell you. I know what I am. But I guess I just don’t care anymore. This works, it isn’t good. But it don’t feel bad, either. She wanted it. She waited for it, brought me in. She made me.

I always wondered how these sorta things came about, how you can pair a helpless little onna no ko with some kitanai oji-san. Tell me, how’s that pair end up in the same bed, or bathroom, or locker room?

She’s desperate, alone, and can’t help herself. She sees me and she sees her dream boyfriend, her senpai. She wants me to help her out. I guess I try. I find her funny, and cute, and well, she’s got a nice, tight butt, and well, I like all that, so, I don’t mind her cryin’ on my shoulder in exchange for a piece. And then I really get into it, and then I go full animal. So gross, so good, so far. So damn far.

This musta been the natural course of events. Is this what God had in mind? Maybe, shit, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, really. Ugly bastards go to hell either way. Maybe Chika-chan, that goddamn Chickarrin, maybe she’ll get all her wishes granted. Maybe I’ll help her get there, a little. We oughta try. But so much anymore, it’s just sex, just filth, and there was no bein’ ready, and I can’t stop.

“You look like a Miranda! You look like your name would be Miranda!” She wouldn’t look at me when I said that.