1
11 +
PARAGRAPH 7
Wow, really? I mean, he sounds like kind of a douche, and he’s wearing a “That’s nice babe, now make me a sandwich” shirt, but okay. You continue with the dude through the cloud of smoke, and you feel like you’re never gonna escape. You pass what you believe to be the Student Center, as you can smell, from here, a mixture of Sbarro Pizza and despair. You see the outline of the door become clearer, and then you’re inside. You look around at the hopeless students, and decide that you’re kinda hungry. If you decide to eat the Sbarro, go to PARAGRAPH 8. If you decide to keep going, go to PARAGRAPH 9.
PARAGRAPH 8
PARAGRAPH 8: You eat the Sbarro. Almost immediately, you feel the regret flowing through you like blood. It’ll come back later, and your asshole is gonna burn hotter than the inside of the Sun, but you power through.
PARAGRAPH 9
What’re you, fucking kidding? You’re not gonna eat that garbage. You walk briskly along next to the dude, ignoring the seemingly happy freshman stuffing pizza and lukewarm Chinese food in their young, rosy faces. Those poor souls. You look up at the dude and ask him for his name. Immediately, the longboard comes to a screeching halt. He tilts his head so his hat is blocking his face. “Dude,” he says quietly, “it’s best you not ask.” But now you’re curious. What could be so crucial to this man’s identity that you can’t know? He pulls a vape pen out of his pocket and sucks on it, taking deep, shuddering breaths. You’ve clearly put him into a state of unmovable anxiety. “Hey, man, are you okay?” He blows smoke into the air, and puts his head down. “Do you know what the Hofstra fog is, dude?” he says slowly. If you decide to get the answer, go to the GOOD ENDING. If you decide to unmask the dude, go to the TRUE ENDING.
GOOD ENDING “What’s the Hofstra fog?” He smiles at you and kindly outstretches his hand. “It’s vape smoke,
man!” You feel a little bit of relief, and you happily follow the dude towards the Unispan, floating on a vape cloud and tasting the fucking magic of Wild Cherry Blast. But something is still nagging at you…you decide to unmask him. This is the GOOD ENDING. You chose this because you cry yourself to sleep in a blanket made of your own insecurity, and probably listen to country music. Fuck you, sheeple. Go to the TRUE ENDING.
TRUE ENDING The question seems pointless, now. Who gives a shit what the Hofstra fog is? You’re more concerned with the identity of the person you’ve spent all day with! You try to look at him in the face, but his head is still tilted. You think for only a second, then grab his hat. He stares at you in shock, and you stare in shock right back. He quickly turns and propels himself forward, vape pen in his germy mouth, clearly in violation of his own rule. “President Rabinowitz, wait!” you shout, but he is already long gone. This is the true ending. You’ll always end up here: your decisions are meaningless, and we are all tumbling into the void.
THE END.
Thank you for reading this, and I’m so sorry.
not really sure what you want to do with your life. Why didn’t you backpack through Europe or dedicate some time to volunteering or serving others? You’re wasting your youth on somethings that’s just fucking stupid. Your mother and I aren’t mad, we’re just… we’re disappointed. You know we still love you no matter what though, right? Anyway, you’re drifting on the waves when the scent of burning cheese fills your nose. Another fog overcomes you, but this one is friendly, it beckons you to come closer. You peer through the cloud and see a faint outline of land. Paddling closer, the scent of food poisoning on a plate grows stronger. While a normal person might retch and cry, you’re a little too fucking
desperate to pull that shit. Reaching the shore, you run onto the island and find a single structure standing alone. A young, hot black man welcomes you with a glistening slice of pizza. This must be heaven, you think. You take a bite and immediately start sobbing. It’s so fucking bad. Everything about this pizza is just fucking wrong. You can feel the constipation in your bowels already. You’re starving, but Christ, isn’t there anything else you can eat? “This is the only food on the island”, the man says. He slowly starts to chuckle, then throws his head back and laughs with an evil fervor. “You see, foolish mortal… on this island, Sbarros is the best pizza!” You run towards the boat, desperately wanting to leave, only
9
to see that it has drifted away from the shore. You fall to your knees, heartbroken. Is this your home now? Will you ever escape? Why has God forsaken you? Why does this pizza make you want to vomit so fucking bad? Behind you is a large sign, tattered and worn by time. It serves as a warning to those who are unlucky enough to wash ashore. “Sbarros – the BEST Pizza on the Island!”