I admired myself in the mirror as I slipped my arm through the sleeve of my designer Squidforce tee. It was a great tee, after all, white with the word "squid" printed on in black text. Honestly I felt it said something deep about me, real stylish, you know? I took a few poses to get an admiration for the slim and smooth fit, my smooth, slick tentacles swinging luxuriously as I moved. I almost wanted to go outside and embrace the world just like this (because I'm awesome), but going outside barefoot would naturally be lame and ridiculous. I rifled through my overflowing shoe rack and pulled out a fantastic pair of Tentatek Pink Trainers. Now these were some slick shoes, not exactly matching gear but it looked hot enough to fry. I slipped them on hastily over my perfectly blocky toes, not really bothering with socks because sure it'll get my shoes sweaty but eh who cares.
I posed while looking my wonderful, wonderful appearance in the mirror again. My inkredible gazing orange orbs (those are eyes in case stupid uncultured people don't know) reflected infinite beauty back at me, rimmed by my fabulous inky black eye markings that some said were in the shape of a mask. . .a stylish, fantastic mask of course. My bangs were perfectly sliced as ever, framing my perfect flawless face of perfection. Even my eyebrows were a perfect shade of synonym for orange. I grinned at my own amazingness, my shiny pearly white beak glinting in the welcoming light of my bedroom. Even my nose was-
"Shut the hell up no one wants to listen to you monologue!" Shouted an annoying squid that lived next door.
I hated that guy. Stupid ponytail, stupid blue tentacles, stupid clothes that aren't worn by me. I even lost to him in Turf War sometimes, barf. Oh, you're asking me to spend two paragraphs describing him? Hah, no. Because he's not cool like me. I get all the attention, because I'm the likeable one. And the one saying all this stuff. So I get all the attention. Me, not him. Also he's a jerk. He sucks OK.
"Go jump in a pool, you're just jealous idiot!" I shouted through the wall.
"I can hear you talking trash you know, these wall are pretty darn cheap!" He shouted back.
"Screw you!" I said, chucking a random book at the wall.
"You know you're just going to have to pick that back up, right?" Said the idiot.
I growled and tried not to make it obvious I was walking over. I think this book might still be left over from elementary school. I'm not even sure why I kept it. I don't even go to school anymore. I'm a 14 year old girl, I'm a grown adult that doesn't need to go to school. You hear me? 14 years old is grown up! And I don't want to hear otherwise! I even have a driver's license. I passed my exam and everything. So don't talk to me about how I'm not grown up. I don't want to hear how it was back in your day, OK? Not that old people would be reading this. Old people don't read anything cool. But if you are, I don't want to hear any lame comments like that. Because I'm an awesome grown up adult with my own apartment and everything. That my parents pay for. But that part isn't important, OK?
"Who are you even talking to?" The moron asked through the wall.
"I'm thinking of vlogging, OK?!" I said. "I'm gonna write the entire script for subtitles and everything! And you keep interrupting me!"
"Do you even have a camera on?" He asked.
"Sh-shut up!" I said, throwing the book again. I think the binding broke a little this time.
Speaking more quietly, I really just wanted to practice in case I did make a vlog. I always wanted to be famous? Doesn't everyone? Or am I just the only one who's cool like that? But yeah, doesn't it sound awesome to have attention lavished on you all the time? I love attention. I love being the center of attention. Attention is great. Why would I do all this if I didn't want attention? Vlogging didn't necessarily have to be my path, though. Truthfully I was way more lit at Turf Wars. Although I was good at everything. But Turf Wars I was the absolute best at. I splatted fools to the ground before they even knew what happened, covered turf before they even knew what hit 'em. I was the best, a total boss. And you better believe that. As a matter of fact, I was planning on playing Turf War today. I bet that something interesting might happen today. Who knows, maybe I might get my lucky break and someone will sign me up for a big league team! Or at least I'll splat someone while they're squidbagging. That's always some rich karma.
I'd have to catch the train to get to Turf Wars from where I lived, TBH. I only lived a couple of stops away, but it was kind of a walk. Besides, there was construction all over the place around there anyway. Do I want to bother with that? Of course not. That shouldn't be my problem. I'm too awesome to deal with construction work. The place near where we sign up has some really sweet shops though. I mean, Inkopolis Square wouldn't be much of a square without 'em. I bought all my cool clothes at all of them. And weapons. You needed some good stuff for Turf Wars after all, I mean it wasn't some baby game. That's where Sheldon comes in. He's a total geek, but he knows weapons better than anyone. And if you think about it, being a weapons geek kind of cancels out in terms of coolness. Kind of. He's always got the greatest stuff for me to pick up. My favorite gear is still the classic Splattershot really, but I'll try out about anything if I get the chance.
But eh, that's not enough talking about me. I like talking about me, you know? Because I'm awesome! One time I even entered the Youth Folk-Singing contest. I lost, but I like to think that's just because my singing is too hip for normies. Or maybe I just didn't practice enough beforehand, I dunno. . .I was pretty young back then. Not like it'd be dignified for me to enter again now, though, because I'm a 14 year old grown up and it doesn't look cool to enter anything with "Youth" in the name when you're a grown up!
And you know what proves I'm such a grown up? I even do part-time work! I get Salmon Run work all the time. Some say the gig that Mr. Grizz is running is illegal, but that just sounds like coward's talk. I mean, traveling into unsafe waters to fight psychotic murderous salmon people that have makeshift war machines, trade for tech from a totalitarian regime, and are known for going into trances and wiping out entire cities whenever certain types of insects swarm? Pff, what kind of wuss doesn't have the guts to kick butt at something like that? We even get paid in exclusive gear! How could you not want to get in on that?! So basically I'm great and awesome and rolling in the dosh. Ask me how much dosh I'm rolling in. It's all of it. Yeah, that's right, I got all the ca-ching baby.
Oh wait all this talking about how awesome I am made me forget I actually need to go to Turf Wars hold up.