“...Why are you dragging me out here?”

“Just trust me.”

You grabbed his wrist and led him out into the blinding daylight. And where did he end up?

A drag show.

But oh no. Not just that.

It was June.

You brought this man—this poor, unsuspecting, emotionally constipated man—straight into the middle of the nearest Pride parade.

He was TERRIFIED.

The crowd was a pulsing, rainbow wave of glitter, crop tops, and unapologetic flamboyance. Loud music. Glitter in the air. Confetti cannons. A guy in 8-inch heels did a death drop right in front of him.

His pupils dilated. His knees buckled.

“Heyyy, handsome!” someone purred, handing him a free sticker and very obviously checking him out. Another guy in a mesh shirt leaned in. “You single?”

A third just winked and bit his lip.

He clutched his jacket like a lifeline, eyes wide like a deer on poppers.

He stumbled forward with the crowd, flinching every time someone brushed his arm.

His head throbbed. The colors were too bright. The people were too pretty. He needed out.

So he did what any sensible, cornered man would do. He lifted his revolver and pointed it to his temple—

Click.

He blinked. A sparkle landed on his nose. He looked down.

His gun had been replaced with a glitter cannon.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

By the time the parade ended, he limped to his car like a war veteran. His shirt was now a cmess, someone had painted a tiny mlm flag on his cheek, and he had three phone numbers shoved into his pocket.

His car?

Vandalized.

Pride stickers. Heart decals. A giant MLM flag draped over the hood like a war trophy. The back window had writing scrawled across it in neon paint.

“…oh my god…”

From behind, someone slapped his ass and said, “See you next year, sweetcheeks!”

He didn’t scream. He just stared into the void.

"No. No. Don't even talk to me."

---

this was. the WEIRDEST request I've ever done..??