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About The Species of Alone:


It all started with a roleplaying game called Buffy the Vampire Slayer. If you don't know what BtVS is, then go look it up on Wikipedia. Hint: It was a TV show and a damned good one.

But yeah, Eden Studios adapted the show into a roleplaying game, and it was pretty damned fun. One of the player characters was a sorcerer named Joshua who was goth as he could be, and the Non-Player Character was named Izzy who didn't talk much.

A few years later I decided to write a short story based on Izzy. In fact, I couldn't really do anything else when the idea hit me. So I hope you enjoy this story, gentle readers. I know I enjoyed writing it.

Just so you know, Izzy talks a hell of a lot more in the stories than he did in the campaign.


THE SPECIES OF ALONE

Sometimes I get philosophical when I'm dealing with the jocks, especially when I'm holding one of them by the ankles, suspending them over a toilet. This is what my dad calls a "swirly", but seeing as how he's old I can't hold it against him for knowing such a corny name. Anyway, the reason for my getting all Socrates-like is this: a bully is someone who preys on those who are weaker, right? Well seeing as how I'm preying on the bullies who think they can pick on my friends, does that make me a bully? I don't think so, and neither do my friends. Maybe I'll take a class on it when I go to college. because questions like that one make me think.

As I started to lower the jock to apply the famous swirly to his hair, he had the gall to put his hands on the rim of the toilet. "You better let me go, Kevinson!" the jock said, which led me to wonder why in hell people think using someone's last name is more effective than their first. Whatever. I moved one hand from his ankle to his head, pushing it down under the water. He put up a pretty good struggle, no surprise there, and I had to grab both his ankles so he wouldn't boot me on the head. He was thrashing around pretty good, so I kept him under for a few more seconds before I flushed the toilet. The sputtering sounds that came from his lips were music to my ears.

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