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Bradley peruses about the place, searching for an Arcade device worthy of his attention. However, he finds nothing to catch his hopeful eye, all he seems to be finding are the standard & typical Wack-A-Moles, Pac-Mans, and collection games; truly nothing worthy of his precious time. He decides to head back to college since he's got some leftover homework to finish there, but just then, at that precise moment....his eye catches something.
He moves over to the location the corner of his eye captured and spotted, each step laced with antsy as he wonders if he's finally found the device that suits his entertainment needs. He steps, stepping, stepping, and stepping...and to his surprise, the machine in question is a love-compatibility one. Well, it's not EXACTLY what he was hoping for...but it'll certainly do! He rubs his hands together maniacally before reaching a hand into one of his pockets to pull out a quarter to see who his most "compatible" suitor will be.
He pulls out the sweet silver coin, gives it a lucky smooch, and inserts it into the machine. He twiddles his fingers together excitedly as he wonders what kind of man his ideal suitor is; could it be Robert Downey Jr.? Keanu Reeves? By the gods, it could even be....Andrew Garfield!! What is it?? What's it going to be??!!
Now imagine Bradley's reaction when he sees the machine's answer is Max Goof, son of Goofy Goof...if you thought it was something other than horror and outrage, congratulations! You're stupid.
Bradley's jaw unhinges down so low, it might as well be in China at this point. He fastens it back up to combine with his upper jaw again and instantly dawns a face that accurately expresses the brewing emotions he's currently feeling inside. He slams a vengeful hand down against the machine as he reaches down into his pocket again for yet another quarter to try and get a different result. He's not even freaked out by the fact that this machine somehow knows who Max Goof is, more so heavily focused on his seething fury as of now.
He kisses the quarter TWICE this time before insertion, and awaits the machine's new answer with confidence. After all...there's no way he can get the same answer twice right?
Wrong, very wrong. You can in fact, receive the same answer from a love compatibility machine (very relatable) twice.
And so, as he impatiently taps his foot against the floor like a Karen waiting to speak to a manager over a minimal problem, it's a shocker to no one but Bradley when he witnesses the same answer pop up from the machine. His face bubbles up in the same simmering anger he felt upon the first time he was given this answer by it.
"No! No!! No!!! WROOOOONGG!!! Get it right damn you!" Bradley shouts, shaking the machine violently.
He angrily shuffles his hand down and around in his pocket for another quarter, giving it THREE goddamn lucky smooches before practically throwing it within the machine's coin slot, angrily truddling his fingers about the machine as he awaits his hopefully FINAL answer. For a brief moment, he's happy when he sees a silhouette that doesn't belong to Max Goof...but is thoroughly sunken back into the taxingly despairing feeling of endless frustration when it turns out to be Max yet again.
Surprisingly, he holds back his anger, only punching the machine a total of three times instead of the eight he had planned for it. He takes a deep breath, a shallow one, but still deep enough to be considered calming. Perhaps he's going about this in the wrong way, maybe joy and positivity is what he needs to be presenting towards the machine instead of his honest and revealing bitter sense of angry entitlement he's been proudly wearing this entire time ever since the first answer he got. So, he fixes up his posture, adjusts his tie, thinks positive thoughts, beckons a smile to come forth onto his expression, and reaches for his final quarter.
He decides to revert back to a singular, yet quite prolonged, smooch on the coin before inserting it politely. He coughs to clear up his throat and playfully bounces his feet up in place as he awaits the answer, smiling and quietly praying for a different answer than what he's gotten so far.
"Please, please, please...Earnest Hemingway, Cillian Murphy, hell...I'll even take Michael Bay! Just please, anything but goof..." he mutters under his breath, sweating nervously as the machine slowly reveals it's honest answer to his pleas.
But alas...the machine has no soul, or ears. So to no one's surprise, not even Bradley's at this point, the answer is yet again...an extremely goofy face, one that feels oh-so familiar.
Bradley inhales and exhales a long-winded sigh as his hands slam down and his head hangs low in defeat. His calmness is swiftly replaced by his increasing rage resurfacing and restoring its place upon the throne of Bradley's calloused heart. He screams a roar that expresses all the pent up negativity he's been relentlessly storing inside for the past however many hours/minutes he's been here at the machine for as he ruthlessly shakes and tumbles the machine, finally gifting it those eight punches he had originally promised earlier now that he's angry enough.
The machine looks only slightly busted up from Bradley's enraged efforts, but he still put enough force into his assault that he has to take in a lot of breaths before he's fully regained his energy. He can still feel his anger having a physical effect over him as he breathes and stares at the "not even close to being destroyed level" machine, but it's wearing off in place of just simple bitterness. He shoves his hands into his pockets, ready to leave until a thought enters his head...one that gets him all riled up again.
"Dammit...this must be the work of that freshman! He must be pulling some sort of practical prank on ME!!" Bradley yells, furiously rustling around in his other pocket as it searches for his phone.
He finds it and whips it out to dial up the person he presumes is behind this entire "scheme" that came across his mind just now. It goes to voicemail, so Bradley annoyedly types in his number again, hand wrapped over his hip as he stands and waits for him to pick up impatiently. Once again, goes straight to voicemail. Bradley's had enough, his fingers practically seer through the screen of his phone as his fingertips touch the number pad for his number. And so, he calls again, thankfully this attempt warranted an answer finally.
"Yo, yo, yo! What's up Brad?" Max asks.
"I-, hey don't call me that. Anyway, I'm just wondering...WHY THE FUCK DID YOU BUILD THIS STUPID MACHINE JUST TO PRANK ME YOU BA-"
"Whohohoa!! Chill out with the screaming man. Also what machine?" Max interrupts, attempting to soothe the stormy beast with his answer.
"Don't you tell me to chill out and then also play dumb with me afterwards, FRESHMAN!!" Bradley yells.
"Nah dude, I'm not kidding! I didn't build a machine. What are you talking about?" Max questions.
"JUST-, listen, just stop by the local Arcade on the way to wherever it is you're going to. You'll find me there and I'll give you the answers," Bradley informs.
"A-Aight, see you there!....I guess." Max says, his tone indicating reluctance.
Then the call ends.
For several minutes, Bradley just stands around, waiting by the machine. He contemplates drifting off into slumber as he continues his awfully long wait for the man who's caused all his "great suffering", so his eyes blink sleepily a little, and his head seems to drag itself downward often, until....peace.
And then the Goofster shows up.
"Heya Brad!" Max says, smirking like the little shit Bradley knows he is.
Suddenly, that feeling of peace is gone. In it's place is the unbridled rage he's been keeping for, once again, however long he's been here for!
"Finally! Now you wanna explain what this shit is Goof??! Hmmmm???" Bradley questions, borderline interrogatingly.
"Hmm....well it appears to be a machine! Want me to teach you how to use it~?" Max playfully teases, knowing it'll annoy Bradley.
"Grrr...ANSWERS GOOF! GIVE THEM TO ME!!" Bradley yells.
"Well...I don't know what you want me to tell you Bradley, I didn't make this." Max claims.
"Yes you did! Why else would it only be showing me images of you whenever I use it??" Bradley questions, interrogation-style.
"Wait, wait, wait...this machine's been showing you images of ME? A random, skechy looking machine, in the middle of this goddamn Arcade, and it's showing images of me to whoever uses it?" Max asks.
"Well-, I-I-, I-, Uhhh-, y-you really didn't build this. Did you?" Bradley asks, his voice much softer now that he's reached this realization.
"No man! Why the heck would I want random kids, or teens, o-or whoever else comes around here to see random photos of ME?! What kind of idiot would do that??" Max states.
Bradley rubs the back of his head with confusion, he thought for sure that this had to be the work of HIM...but it's not, and now he just feels a little bit silly. Luckily, he quickly forgets his foolishness in order to focus in on an idea he's formed.
"Say Max...you got a quarter?" Bradley asks, a wide, sly grin imprinted on his face.
"Uhhh, probably. Why?" Max answers, then questions.
"Well I was just wondering if you wanted to give the machine a shot...maybe see what it's about. I dunno," Bradley says, stepping aside to let Max operate the machine.
Max walks into position, standing right in front of the same dastardly machine that's been causing Bradley so much grief these past amount of minutes he's wasted on it. It looks even sketchier up close, it's very suspicious for sure....but Max is quite curious about getting some answers from it.
"Y'know, normally I'd disavow ever stepping near a sketchy-ass machine like this, especially given that you said it has photos of me...but I will admit, I am very curious about it, so I'll give it a try." Max declares, rustling for a quarter and inserting it. Bradley can not believe nor tolerate the fact he didn't give his coin the luck-inducing smooch before inserting it, truly deplorable.
Max steps back as the machine works it's magic. Bradley stands in place with his arms crossed together. As the machine toggles itself an answer, Bradley catches Max frequenting quick glances at him; which greatly annoys the Uppercrust. His sly grin fades off in place of his distaste towards the skilled freshman, all the while Max sniggers to himself, his hand covering his mouth to quiet down it's noise.
The silhouette appears and Bradley can see Max getting noticeably hyped for what the answer will be. A supervillain-like expression makes itself known upon his face upon witnessing this, silently praying and hoping that he'll be smacked down to the exact level of disappointment that he's is at; preferably even lower. However, when the answer Max's quarter gives turns out to be none other than Bradley himself, neither of them find each other having the last laugh as their jaws drop from the sheer oddity of this cruel joke the world is playing on them.
"Brad, did you do something to this machine? Or are you trying to tell me something?" Max questions, his face very suspicious of the rich boy.
"Whoa, whoa, WHOA!! You are not gonna pin this all on ME freshman! Why the hell does the machine say that I'm the best lover for you hmmmm??!" Bradley condescendingly inquires.
"Dude, no. You're the one who said there were images of me popping up on the machine every time you tried to use it! And then the first time I try it, suddenly it's images of you! This is all some sort of self-revealing prank isn't it? Well spoilers for you man, I'M NOT INTERESTED IN YOU!!" Max shouts, getting a bit heated from the ensuing argument.
"OH YEAH?! That so?? Well wah-wah-waaaaahhhhh!! What a BIIIIIG loss for me riiight??!!" Bradley shouts, his screams displaying an overdosing amount of sarcasm within each word.
"Yeah I bet it is! You'd be waaaay lucky to have me! Even I'M out of your league man!!" Max yells, grinding his teeth.
"And why's that?? So I'd have to clean up and take care of you everyday like that stupid daddy of yours Goof??!" Bradley screams.
"Hell no you wouldn't! I'm more than capable of taking care of myself dumbass!! Just like I'm more than capable of finding someone way better and WAY prettier than you, bitch!!" Max swears.
"OH YEAH??! YEEEEAAAAHHH??!!" Bradley screams.
"YEAH, YEAH THAT'S RIGHT!!" Max retaliates.
"THEN HOW ABOUT WE KISS TO PROVE WE DON'T LIKE EACH OTHER, HUH??" Bradley suggests.
"FINE BY ME! C'MERE!!" Max yells, pulling Bradley closer for a smooch.
Their lips interlock and it's beautiful. It feels like the two of them are floating about the promised land, fully relaxed as they flutter about like birds. This moment, while beautiful, is very short-lived and instantly cut to being short due to the two of them pulling away from each other in a panic once the reality of what they're doing together sets in. The two stare at each other bug-eyed, completely soaked and shuddering with terror at what they've both done, and how good it felt to do so. But then that terror quickly subsides back into their mutual distaste towards each other, as the two of them turn away and stonewall one another stubbornly.
It's a while before the two speak to each other again. When they do, it's because of Bradley turning a glance over at Max, before making another, much longer lasting one, upon his person.
"...Just so you know, I'm not gay. I love women." Bradley clarifies, stubbornly reverting to his previous stonewalling facial demeanor.
"Great. Me neither, I only rock with chicks." Max clarifies.
They go silent again, continuing stubbornly stonewalling with bitter expressions plastered across their faces. At least, that's how it remains until Bradley shifts another, far softer than before, glance at Max.
"...You wanna do it again?" Bradley asks, his voice less stubborn and bitter and far more gentle and inviting.
"Yeah, let's go you stupid twink." Max agrees, as they both pull each other in an equal amount.
And then they do it again.