CTF - A Love Story Chapter 1: The Confessions of Admiral_Munson

Summary: @Admiral_Munson, master of memes and lord of the cringe has never been the same since @wintergreen3 rejected his valentine all those months ago. Tonight, he will go farther than ever before to fight for the girl of his dreams. Join him, a anti social archer, and a crazy communist in this spellbinding tale of true, and incredibly creepy love, and heartache that has both critics and readers everywhere asking "WHY?"

CTF - A Love Story Chapter 1: The Confessions of Admiral_Munson​

"Pooks I swear you're less social than a teddy bear!" I exclaimed in frustration. I had been trying to talk to Pookey for the past half hour but he had offered less than a few canned phrases in response. It was like talking to the hand. Total torture.

Pookey looked up at me tiredly. "Admiral I'm busy right now."

@pookeythekid was a handsome young man man of middling height with rich brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He would have been a fine suitor to a lady if he wasn't always busy. If it wasn't chemistry, or physics, or going off to fight in some ridiculous battle he was plopped in front of a computer typing out lines of gibberish. As someone who had known him for nigh a year this situation never ceased to piss me off.

"Yeah?" I snorted, "Doing what? Computer programming again?"

"That's right." Pookey nodded.

"Are you f*cking kidding... you think programming is more important than love?" I scowled. I hated programming even more than I hated Adam Sandler and everything he stood for. And I really despise that f*cker. "My heart is breaking here bro!"

"Okay." Pooks said, eyes fixated on the screen as if he had never heard me.

"F*cking... you know what," I muttered. "Fine Pooks, do your programming. I'll just go back to pretending I don't exist."

"If you say so Munson." Pookey said.

"I was being sarcastic!" I said in exasperation. Damn programmers. No sense of humor whatsoever.

"I'm sorry. I can't talk right now."

"What the hell are you doing with that programming anyway? Don't you know you're going to be outsourced by some Asian kid named Hong the Dweeb in five years?" I said.

"Munson please."

I stared at him in irritation. All I wanted tonight was to talk to someone about how everything sucks and even my favorite introvert wouldn't listen to me. UGH. I swear loudly, just to piss Pooks off, and storm out the door. Maybe Webmant would listen.

I knocked on Webmant's door, several yards down the hall, and waited. Moments later the shaggy, unshaven form of the biggest know it all douchebags I'd ever known appeared swaying slightly from side to side as he gripped the frame.

"Greetings comrade." he said in his thick, saucy Eastern European accent. It was one that would have given most men a throbbing woody but I held firm. The situation was awkward enough as it was. The clock registered half past one in the morning, a bad time to talk to most people in the castle.

"And to you as well comrade." I said as politely as I could.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Well I'll get right to the point." I said, "I'm in love."

Webmant raised a dark eyebrow in mild interest, "That is most interesting comrade. Have you stopped by to give me a midnight kiss?"

I stared at him, my cheeks reddening exponentially at the thought. Kissing Webmant and then... OH GOD! "No. No! What are you -? No! Not I haven't, I mean no, not that at all."

Webmant laughed and put an arm on my shoulder, "It is well. Come in comrade. Have a seat."

I looked at him warily and put my temporary discomfort aside. He was always pulling crap like this. "Okay." I said, "But if you try anything I'm out the door faster than Lightning McQueen."

"Ha!" Webmant smiled, "You need not worry. I have vodka!"

"Ah... I see." I said. That usually didn't mean anything good. Every time I had come over in the past when Webmant had offered me vodka he'd get so drunk he'd start rambling about the principles of communism and socialism while I was trying to talk to him about my feelings. It had made for some very awkward conversations.

"It isn't too much trouble for me to be here is it?" I asked. I, being a good Christian, was always the self conscious type.

"It is well comrade."

I situated myself on one of his many 'proletariat chairs' and did my best to ignore the sharp pains emitting from my back in protest. It was one of the most uncomfortable chairs I had ever sat in. Webmant claimed that it helped drive out the 'bourgeoisie' entitlement to comfort from his guests. It was utter rubbish of course, but then again he was a communist.

"So my dear comrade, what is this latest affair of the heart of yours?" Webmant asked, returning to my side with a large bottle of vodka in hand. He quickly poured himself a glass and offered a second one to me. I declined.

"Honestly, it's hard to explain." I said.

"And why is that?"

"Well..." I started, the powerful emotions churning through me as I thought of her. The love of my past few weeks, @wintergreen3. The mysterious minx of the bow and arrow. "I'm not used to telling anyone about these things."

Webmant shook his head, "There is nothing to fear. I shall not judge you for your affections. But I have to ask, is it me? I know I have a huge -"

"YES! I know! I know! Thank you comrade." I interrupted, "I uh, know all about your huge... thing."

"Yes I do." Webmant laughed, "Very well then. Let us proceed without barriers."

"Alright." I said, taking a deep breath as I dove into my story. The tale of my affection. But in all my awkwardness, I kept it brief. "I'm in love with winter."

"The season? That is very interesting to hear comrade."

"No, not the season." I muttered, "Wintergreen! Like the gum!"

"Ohhh so you love wintergreen flavored gum?" Webmant said, "I like it too."

"God damn it comrade. This is serious!"

Webmant took a swig of vodka and smiled, "My apologies. I know of whom you speak."

"Yes..." I said dreamily, "Wintergreen. She's really quite beautiful you know. I mean I've never seen her or anything but I can just imagine her in a bikini... ohhhh her voice could melt chocolate. When she said 'go away' for the first time I swear to you comrade, I was in heaven." I paused, "she's a goddess comrade. An absolute bloody goddess, except for when she randomly screams for no reason.
"But I'm not gonna lie, I've framed every restraining order she's ever sent me. I like to think that keeping them as momentos brings us closer together. Every night I look at her handwriting on this one restraining order and I imagine what kind of hands could write so well... I've thought of her touch and it's soo good. Like taking a warm bath in the purest Ben and Jerry's vanilla ice cream." I sighed softly, briefly imaging what a massage from winter would be like. Nah. I'd probably end up with an arrow in my chest if winter ever found out about that particular fantasy. "Not that I know what that feels like or anything."

"I see." Webmant said, "I've always thought of her as a troll myself. No tits, total troll."

"Please comrade!" I exclaimed painfully, "I bet she's busty. Ladies with good handwriting are always busty."

"Personality matters more than appearance does it not?"

"Oh of course." I said, gradually coming back to earth, "But I just know she's Katniss on steroids."

"Please comrade." Webmant said, "Do not mention that bourgeois name."

"Sorry."

"So what is your problem comrade?"

"She rejected my valentine." I said, "I figured she was just trying to play hard to get with the restraining orders so I wrote her an impassioned pledge of my love."

"That is admiralable of you." Webmant said with a sly smile. Yeah good one, I thought. Zinger you crazy bastard. But alas, I pressed on.

"I spent an entire evening working on it." I continued, "I threw in every cliche in the book into my poem, it was even based on a Justin Bieber song, and she REJECTED IT!" I wailed, "All of it!"

I could feel the emotions stirring up in me once more. The brimming excitement and confidence I had experienced turning into bitter sadness when Winter spurned my efforts. First she laughed at me. And then she said those terrible words 'lets just be friends'. No... winter, I had thought, how could you?

"Night after night, I thought of her. Laughing at me. Ridiculing my efforts as if they weren't serious. And I was on the ground, on my knees, crying and pleading with her not to do... to do this thing to me. I couldn't let her go, I can't let her go comrade." I said, my blond brown hair flopping onto my forehead, "I know that totally sounds 100% Edward Cullen and everything but I - I don't know anymore. I just wanted a friend that's all."

Webmant looked at me for what seemed for the longest time, saying nothing. Then he took another sip of vodka, draining the class, and set it down with a clink. Then, he burst out laughing,

"You keep this up comrade and I will have to send you to gulag!"

"Comrade..." I groaned.

"Very well." Webmant said, creepily putting a hand on my knee, "As strange as you are, I will help you."

-This is the end of part 1-

Note to @Lord_Roke please do not move this to literature as no one reads anything there.

Thank you.​