To continue with my experiment, I am re-writing typical fanfiction from a player’s perspective. This time, I write from the point of view of Maxime Talbot. Let me know in the comments or email me if you have a suggested target.
So one night, I go out with my crew. We’re all feeling good—we had won the previous game, it was Friday night in
So I go up to this one girl. She was pretty great looking, you know, all dressed up just for me (since I’m so freaking awesome.) I got to her and the conversation goes like this:
Me: “Hi, I’m Max Talbot”
Her: “Uh, ok, uh, do I know you?
I didn’t get it. Shouldn’t she be falling over herself at the fact that I chose her out of all the chicks here to talk to? I tried again: “I got some Boone’s Farm and Double Stuff Oreos in my car.” She says to me, “What the fuck do you think I am? Fourteen? Get out of here!”
I was shocked. How dare that stuck up English American bitch turn me down like that! I couldn’t figure it out, so I just left her alone. Damn bitch probably had herpes or something. I found Marc-André Fleury in a comer in the back. He said, OH Max, it’s all OK. I’ll eat your Oreos and drink your Boone’s Farm.” I told him, “No Marc, those are for the hot bitches, not gangly horse-toothed freaks like you. Let’s get out of here.” He says, “OK, I’ll just wait for these two hot coeds to finish blowing me. You girls are 18, right?”
Tabernack fouckin’ ostie!