12:59 AM
"Hraaaaaaaarrhh, damn that was the best yawn I've had in days," I muttered to no one, rubbing my face.
Welcome, reader! You've stumbled upon a story starring a rather peculiar flower: me!! The name's Asmo(short for Asmodeus). Yes, that one. No, not the demon. Maybe. Depends on the lighting.
I work in a dark little corner of the animation industry. If you know what I mean, you know. If not... well, I won't be your guide through the valley of digital degeneracy. You're on your own, bud.
Now, I'm a little too committed to my craft. I skip sleep. Meals? Optional, Hygiene? Questionable and all for the sake of perfecting my "little girls." Wait, not like that. Okay, maybe like that. Too late to explain, let's just move on.
Let me properly introduce myself. Ladies and gentlemen... Asmo.
"Ugh, her chest physics are off, no bounce. Come on, man! You've done merc work for triple-A titles. You can handle jiggle."
I dropped my stylus with a sigh, glancing at the clock.
Past midnight.
"Guess I should eat. What delicacy are we thinking Asmo?" saying to myself, "I think microwaved Top Ramen shall suffice, Asmo." I stood up, dragging my feet toward the kitchen. "Wait... where the hell's the ramen? I bought a box last month."
I turned my 10-by-5-foot kitchen upside down. No noodles. Just dust, stench, and some leftover good ol' American cheese.
My apartment was a shrine to chaos: one bedroom, one bathroom, one kitchen and zero dignity. Magazines I'd rather not name covered the floor. Dirty laundry dangled from the closet door like limp flags of surrender. Posters from anime that no respectable adult should know adorned every wall. And my bed? Surrounded by five body pillows, each from a different show. Each... well-loved.
With a groan, I grabbed my coat and headed out.
"Lock the door... click. Nice."
The street was colder than usual. I scanned the corners of my block, each littered with the same huddled silhouettes. Five, maybe six homeless folks per corner. It felt like they spawned overnight.
"This city's got an infinite respawn rate on desperate men," I muttered, tightening my hoodie. "Store's two blocks east."
Thirty minutes later...
"Why the hell did that take so long?" I muttered, staring at the grimy sign hanging above the convenience store: 8 Twelve, Open 19 Hours a Dáy... Something about the accent mark felt illegal.
Bling bling chimed the automatic doors as I walked in.
"Score. Ramen and well, why not condoms, Four bucks? Nice."
"BOOO HAWANDA! GIVE ME MONEY OR I'LL SHOOT!" came a sudden scream from behind.
I froze. A homeless man pointed a weapon at me. It must have been a new model, I've never seen one with an orange tip at the end.
"I-I'm so-" I stammered, my legs betraying me as I collapsed onto the concrete, warmth spreading unpleasantly down my leg.
WEE-oww-WEE-oww-WEE-oww
"He's breathing, but barely!" shouted a nurse as I was rolled through the sterile fluorescence of a hospital.
"Room B3! Call for backup!" barked a doctor. My vision flickered—blurry nurses, too much cleavage for a professional setting, and a spinning ceiling.
"What happened?" the doctor demanded, strapping something to my face.
"Fainted. Apparently, a homeless guy yelled at him with a toy gun," a nurse replied, flipping through papers.
"Who is this guy?"
Another nurse squinted. "Wait... oh my God. He's that guy. The one who animates those... explicit cartoons. My son watches his stuff."
The doctor's hands froze.
"You're telling me... we're treating a pervert??"
"Yep. I've seen his work. The girls always look like they've been smuggling beach balls."
Redness flushed across the doctor's face.
"I am not wasting hospital resources on a hentai goblin!" he roared.
"Wait-is that pee?" asked one nurse.
"Oh my God, I have to get a photo," said another, phone already out.
"I heard his wife left him because he wouldn't stop watching that stuff," whispered a nurse too loudly.
The doctor flinched. He heard every word.
"Wha... what's going o-" I tried to speak, my voice muffled through the oxygen mask.
"JUST SHUT UP YOU GODLESS SWINE!" bellowed the doctor with a cross around his neck, grabbing an empty syringe.
"DOC, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? THAT'LL KILL HIM!" screamed a nurse.
"I KNOW! That's the idea!" he yelled back. "Even if it costs me my license!"
Then I felt it-the sharp prick to the neck. Warmth flooding my chest. The edges of the world melting away.
And then... nothing.