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You got out of your car. Bibble was in the passenger seat, sleeping. You had to get gas, but you also needed to stretch your legs, you had been in the car for almost twelve hours now. Bibble hadn't been making things any easier, what with the alcohol and stuff. Regardless, you still had to wake him up, and he did not like to be woken up.
“Bibble? Bibble?” you asked, gently shaking that attractive little puffball. “Bibble! Wake up, you're exhausted. We're gonna take a break, I just stopped at a Wawa.”
Bibble groaned. “If I'm so exhausted, why won't you let me sleep, woman?” He shoved a broken beer bottle in your face. He was so hot— it made your earlobes tingle just thinking about what Bibble could do with that beer bottle.
Great. Now Bibble was acting pissy because you'd just woke him up. Bibble had been drinking a lot more lately. He was a mean drunk— Bibble even punched a hole into your dad’s drywall when you introduced the him.
You put the gas pump into your car and let it fill the tank.
“Sorry, Bibble. You've been dead asleep in the car for nearly twelve hours, babygirl, you need to get something to eat so you're not hungover. Sober up, I'm not supposed to have alcohol in my car and the coppers could do a surprise inspection soon. They're 'spicious.”
You unbuckled Bibble and shoved him out of your car. Bibble fell flat on his sexy little face, letting out a little screech.
“Oh my gosh, Bibble! Are you okay?” you gasped, putting a hand to your mouth.
“No, you ugly little skank. Why would I be okay when you just shoved me out of the car and then I fell on my face?” Bibble asked, his teeth freshly chipped and bloody, making him all the more attractive. You liked bad boys. You loved when Bibble said all of those horrible things— it made you feel special.
“Love you too, Bibble,” you smiled. “Now let's go into Wawa.”
“Whatever.”
Just out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bibble’s ex coming out of the door of Wawa.
Dizzle.
“You know what? Maybe we should leave, Bibble,” you whispered, hoping that Dizzle wouldn't hear you, although you were twenty feet away from her.
“Actually…” Bibble replied, his eyes wide and his face reddening. Of course. He still wasn't over Dizzle, even though she cheated on him with Fungus Max, the ugly wretched thing. Sugar Daddy Fungus Max gave Dizzle everything she could ever want with a generous stipend if she could just do one thing for him. That thing? Leave Bibble.
Of course.
“You're not over Dizzle,” you accused your puffball baddie hotbox crackhead toaster-bath boyfriend named Bibble.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Bibble rolled his eyes. “Dizzle and I have been over for 35 years, Y/N-poof,” he scoffed.
“That makes things even worse and you know it.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. Bibble had to face the fact that Fungus Max had better things in worse places, and that was the way that Dizzle liked it.
Naughty girl.
That sentence made you think. How old was Bibble? At least 35, at most? You shuddered at the very thought.
“Let’s just go,” you bargained. “The gas here is really expensive.”
“What's your problem, hoe?” Bibble asked, his wings buzzing with anger. “Dizzle and I are over. Periodt.”
“You never give me the time of day and then as soon as you see Dizzle, you suddenly care. I'm sick of it,” you cried.
Just then, you had an idea.
An awful idea.
A wonderful, awful idea.
You remembered you had your matches in your pockets. Where are you? A gas station.
It was impossible for Bibble to read between the lines, and that was the way you liked it. You took the fuel applicator from your Ford F-250.
You splashed Bibble with the gasoline, drenched. Not a single hair on his small, sexy body was free from the lovely liquid that we fuel cars with.
“Y/n!? What did you do that for!? Now I stink and I'm all greasy!” Bibble shouted, dripping in gasoline. It still didn't click, even after you got out your matches.
You lit one.
The fear in Bibble’s eyes was too much to bear, so you put on your sunglasses. Time was running out and you had to do this quickly so you could get away before the cops came.
“What are you doing??” Bibble screeched, shuddering.
You flicked the match to his sticky, smelly, gasoline-drenched body. He lit up like a Christmas tree.
He was burning. That girl was definitely on fire. You didn't start the fire. Ball of fire. Any fire puns, honestly. Arson was the one way to kill Bibble and ensure he stayed dead.
He let out a cry and then continued to burn like a pile of tires for the rest of eternity in that Wawa parking lot.
The End.