Sunuvabitch! Michael's snowball missed Nathan by a long shot, he didn't even think he noticed it. Hell, he hasn't hit a single target since he got here. His aim's pretty piss poor if he had to be honest. Jonathan told Michael he had to head out, which was aight, guessing he had to get shit done at home, understandable. "Yeah buddy, I feel ya'." Michael clumped up another wad of snow in his hands. "See ya' later man." He turned to fire back at Natha- Fuck he's gone. What the hell? His he behind the car? Are we getting ambu- oh, he's already gone. Damn...
A moment later a snowball whizzed over his head and hit Darius in the back. Wait? Did Nathan flank us? Oh shi- wait, Jonathan?! Jonathan was heading home, but he still got the last laugh on that one. Michael couldn't really do much but yell out "TRAITOR!" in the least intimidating voice he could possibly make. What the hell was that even? Could a human even say that in such a high pitch? It was as if his testicles retracted back into his pelvis and reversed his puberty or something. Gee, this day really wasn't going his way, when your trademark Italian mafioso impersonation comes off as a trashy Bobcat Goldwaith impression, it's probably a sign you need to hit the bed early and cry yourself to sleep. With that, I guess it's time to wrap it up.
He tossed a final snowball towards Jeremy who'd finally gotten his ass up off the ground, (not like Michael should be talking, being the human slip n' slide.) and tossed one back to Darius. Damn, Darius was getting wrecked out here. Should he bail? Michael gave a not too long thought on leaving world war 3, Kingman edition. Ah fuck it, it's cold, my legs hurt, my dignity hurts, it's cold. "Ey' D' I'm headin' out man! My tits are freezing off out here!" He'd toss another snowball at Jeremy. "See you jackasses at school tomarrah!"
Michael headed out, making sure not to fall the fuck over again.
((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere))