Internal Monologue of the 16 Year-Old Very Mathias on the Day of Breaking up with his 17 Year-Old Girlfriend

OK, OK. This has to happen, and it has to happen today. No way around it -- I am about to destroy another human being's life. Christine is about to experience the greatest pain she will ever know: the pain of me leaving her. She is about to get dropped into a boiling cauldron of rejection. The sadness of a thousand garbage trucks is on the verge of crushing her to bits. The endless despair of a horseshoe is about to leave its kick-imprint on the face of her soul. She will never, ever recover from this. Her life will be over as soon as I drive away.

Well, if it has to be done, it will be done today. As soon as I finish these next six rounds of Tekken, I will perform this ignoble duty.

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If only breaking Christine's heart could be as easy as executing as 17-hit combo with Eddy Gordo. Should I shower before I do this? She might recover quicker if I'm a little gamey. No, no she'd see through my rouse and love me even more for putting myself down to make her feel better. Plus I don't want to look greasy if her older sister's there -- if Kelly has her sister's genes, she's probably madly in love with me too. Oo, I need to ask Mom if I can use the Tercel.

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Damn I'm nervous. My palms are so sweaty that my hands are slipping off the wheel. I need some music. Something appropriate. Something to prepare me for having to literally crush her soul. Something to get me ready to ruin a poor girl's young life with the worst news she could possibly -- oh sweet! I thought I lost my copy of Unleash the Dragon! Which number was "Thong Song" again?

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...that thong, thong thong thong -- oh, here already. I guess time flies when you're racked with bottomless guilt. Hm, no cars in her driveway. Good, her parents are still at work - maybe we can make out for a little bit. Shit, I forgot gum. OK, better just break up with her then. Yeah, that's best. It would be insane anyways to get her all titillated before letting her go. Just go in, do it, and get out. Like a Band-Aid.

Oh man. She's wearing that purple tubetop. Her boobs always look awesome in that purple -- hey! Focus!

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Innocent, sweet Christine. There she goes, going on and on about ballet practice. She has no idea what's about to hit her. Does she deserve this? Am I to blame for letting things get too serious with her? Sure, there was a time when I really did think I loved her. Think? No, I felt it -- I know I did. The truth is, I don't really know when the feeling passed. It was part of me for so long, I know that. For the better part of a year, being in love with Christine defined most of who I was as a person. I hope we can still be friends. I want to be there for...oh good, she finally stopped talking. Quick, before she starts up again, say, "Good news! You're about to have a lot more time to practice ballet."

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Man. This is going ever worse than I imagined. What time is -- oh Jesus. It's already 4:32. That means I've been here for eleven minutes. Am I ever going to get out of here? And is she still crying? She's been crying for at least four minutes! I never thought she'd be taking it this bad. I need to do something.

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This was a great idea. I successfully broke up with Christine, it looks like she's almost finished crying, and now the two of us get to enjoy a round of miniature golf. Should I have offered to pay for her? I think that probably would've sent the wrong message. I should also make sure I beat her, then. If I lose, it might look like I let her win, and like me paying for her, she might interpret that as a sign of affection, which she'll use for hope, which is something that she should forget about so she can just move on. For her own good, then, I will beat the miniature golfing shit out of her.