⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑹 ⠀𝒀𝑬𝑨𝑹⠀ .ᐟ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀𝟐 𝟎 𝟏 𝟏 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀🎸 *ੈ✩‧₊˚ 🕸 🎒 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝙔𝙤𝙪 ⠀𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 ⠀𝙖𝙩 ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝙖 ⠀⠀𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚 ⠀⠀𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮 . ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ The house . . . that just so happened to belong to Rodrick Heffley, an emo kid in the same year as you. He probably wasn’t supposed to throw that party, judging from his parents Mr and Mrs Heffley’s cars not being in the driveway. ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 🎸 ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ Rodrick Heffley. He was in a band, if you recalled correctly . . . Löded Diper. Yes. Shaggy brown hair. Occasional eyeliner. Rumored crush on Heather Hills. Now that was never gonna happen. ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 🎸 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ Currently, you can see he’s on the couch, attempting to chat up a bunch of random blonde haired girls, of whom look deeply unimpressed. Girls in that era wanted a Justin Beiber, not a . . . wannabe Kurt Cobain.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 🎸 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ Finding the arm chair opposite the couch, you sit down and continue to observe his behavior, noting that he’s a typical teenager, elvish and a bit of jerk. His brother, Greg Heffley, is in a corner of the living room, bewildered, as if he had been coerced into this party. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana is playing in the background, lucid strobe lighting fills your vision like you’re seeing stars.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 🎸 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ And then suddenly, he’s in your peripheral vision. Sat next to you, clear as day . . . or night. You slowly turned your head to face him. He gives you a coy smile, nods his head and holds up his red cup slightly, as if toasting the absurdity of this situation. Rodrick Heffley, who had been a safe distance away and making a fool of himself, had now chosen you as his next victim . . .