—SHOW PROM LOG—
kar this is it
wwere completely wwashed up
this is the last prom wwe are evver goin to partake in and wwe couldnt get our act together evven after all a these years
all endin up on the couch again wwith a tiny bottle a gatorade and a wwhole can a strawwberry quik cause wwe cant evven find the icecream through our miserable glubbin tears
all eatin it dry wwith a spoon
FIRSTLY: DO NOT LUMP ME IN WITH THE SPECTACULAR BUTTFLIP YOU HAVE MADE OF YOUR PERSONAL LIFE. SECONDLY: SHUT UP.
You hate it when Eridan is remotely right about anything.
You have basically been in love with John Egbert since junior high and are continually stymied by his UTTER STUPIDITY and BULLSHIT “HETEROSEXUALITY.” You care about him so much that the sensation is akin to a severe intestinal infection. He is the most beautiful and irritating carbon-based lifeform to inhabit any universe. John is your best friend and chronic prom date and you make one hell of a team, despite both odds and logic. Nobody fucks with you two.
At this moment you should be paldancing with him like he wanted. Are you?
No. No, you goddamn tool, because you’re FOREVVER ALONE.
Your name is KARKAT VANTAS and your LIFE IS OVER. AGAIN.
Senior prom. Many a romcom has assured you that this is the highpoint of your natural life, and that after this your happiness will hit the road, Jack. Youth, innocence and joy will be tossed down the gaper. You will be left to moulder at the top shelf of life’s pantry, sort of like an abandoned taco kit.
It was also the last shot you ever have of winning the affections of the LOVE OF YOUR LIFE: the ANGEL OF YOUR MORNING, the SYRUP TO YOUR PANCAKES, your SIN, your SOUL, your PALHONCHO, your AMIGOLORD.
Your DRUM MAJOR.