(Preshow) Registration [Where you sign up IC]

[Deadpool]

Tangled Greens (before everyone else there entered >_>)

Today was the day.

Finally, Jimmy was old enough to man his own sign-up booth (no more shitty custodial duties, or errand-running for weird, old Mr. Karl). It was a job he could take pride in, and boast to his college peers about; perhaps, a few of the high-profile contestants would be humble enough to take a few pictures with him, so he could then post them on OmniTwitter to impress his friends . . . and possibly get some ass from his high school crush, Summer (oh Summer, with her golden hair, and emerald green eyes; many of nights, Jimmy thought of her while pleasuring himself--imagining her pretty face with a donut glaze may have been his favorite imagery).

He arrived to his station much earlier than necessary--four hours before than his coworker, Walter--to ensure that his station had an adequate amount of  material to process at least twenty entrants, and also accommodating enough to house at least a quarter of that. He wiped the computer’s hard drive clean of anything not pertaining to Syntech or Dante’s Abyss, and with thoughts of meeting a celebrity contestant still fresh in his noggin, he positioned all the available lighting to be fixated on the center of the tent; the grid lines running across the telepad’s green surface glinted.

“Doing a little much, aren’t you?” It was the soft voice of a female. “It’s like, six a.m.”

As Jimmy turned to look, butterflies exploded in his stomach--Summer poked through the entrance of the tent. “Suh-suh,” he stuttered, eyes creepily locking with hers as she neared. Obsession rushed over him; all of his feelings of lust and love capsulated him, like clay over a mold.

“Hey, Jimmy.” Summer’s soft lips curled into a gentle, yet curious smile, and the mole on the left side of her face nestled into one of her dimples. “Walter told me you’d be stationed here.” She waited for him to respond, but when a couple moments passed with Jimmy looking like a deer caught in headlights, she continued: “Sooooo . . . where is Walter?”

Jimmy sighed long and pleasurably. His eyes crossed; both his brows impersonated a smile; his knees quivered, then a warm liquid began to soak the front of his favorite slingshots (Doomguy DA’15, BFG slapped right across the dick hole edition); afterwards, he immediately came to. The uncomfortable sensation of cooling ejaculatory fluids soured his visage; when he realized what occurred--in front of his biggest crush, no less--his cheeks combusted.

“OH MY GOD!” he exclaimed.

Summer’s eyes popped open. “What’s wrong?!”

“I-I-” As he stammered, he noticed Summer’s obliviousness to what had occurred. He had an opportunity to play it cool. “I’m sorry, I--err,uhhh--forgot that we have to open soon!” Please, don’t let it soak through my pants. Please, please, please, please.

“Really?” Summer looked over her shoulder, towards the entrance of the tent. “I guess you can tell that homeless guy with the trenchcoat and mask that he can register now, huh?”

“Homeless guy?” Jimmy hesitantly waddled towards the entrance--not because of the homeless guy, but because making any more contact with his unborn children would make him shudder.

As he looked outside the entrance, his right eye caught the leg of a man in a trench coat. The man sat on his ass, back leaning against the face of the tent. He wore a red mask with racoon-like eyes.

Jimmy cleared his throat to build some bass in his tone (Summer should like that): “Can I help you sir?”  But all he could force was an accent of nasally wheezing.  

When the man failed to respond, Jimmy clasped his shoulder and nudged him. “You ok?”

”. . . Not as ok as your trousers, buddy.” The man said. He poked his head up, and pointed his index at the teenager’s crotch. ”Sign me up for Dante’s Abyss, but clean your undergarments first.”