A lonely little boy in a lonely little voice chat. His only company being a programmed machine. The machine may serenade but it doesn't offer any love or care. It only does what it's programmed to do.

"Fredboat is my friendo."

Dead weight you may call this friend for he doesn't offer any help.

Maybe the less the poor boy knows about his friend the better, but sadly in this tale the narrator is a dick.

The poor boy is now forced to think about this mess. The thought of his friend is like salt in a wound. He ponders this while sipping some soda pop, but the thoughts overwhelm him and he spills it upon the ground.

"No! My soda!"

"I didn't spill it. I finished it, so I went to get more drink. Get your facts right, you cute narrator."

Shuddup.

You spilt it.

He is soon realizing just how bothersome the narrator is being.

At the sound of the last line, the boy tries to hug the narrator but he is too dumb to realize that he can't.

The boy stared blankly up after his failed attempt and thinks about how it was back in the 90's. Life was so much easier then. He especially loved when his old pal Ferdinand would take him out to lounge around the park and watch the skies.

As he was daydreaming about the old days a paper airplane impacted his cheek. It was an invitation TO A PARTY! He was ecstatic thinking that he can finally be one of the cool kids until he saw the day it was on.

Oh no!

It was on the same day as his pal Fredboat's birthday and party.

What was he to do?

"Die."

He first thought was to just cripple over and perish, but then an idea popped up in his head. Both parties are at different times, so he could go to both if he rushed fast enough from one to the other.

Though he was nervous he was determined to do so.

"The boy starts to think about how adorable this narrator is."

Shut it. This is my job, punk.

Like I was saying....

As his last song ended, he decided it would be a good time to take this new found determination down under to where his next meal was awaiting him.

...

End of Part One