The battle began with a single horrifying truth:Milo looked like the unholy child of a carnival disaster and a baby shower gone wrong.
Bunny ears? Check.A glittery adult diaper? Regrettably, yes.Clown shoes the size of snowboards? Absolutely.And to complete the nightmare: glittery blush so aggressively pink it could blind oncoming traffic.
Mistress Misery wasted no time.
She pointed her ruler dramatically, and the world itself shuddered.Lockers sneered.Desks floated in judgmental formation.Every wrong move Milo made produced a fresh confetti explosion from somewhere indecent.
"BEHOLD!" Mistress Misery cackled, "THE EMBODIMENT OF ALL YOUR HUMILIATION!"
The Sad Club watched from behind an overturned cafeteria table, offering stellar advice:
"Just imagine everyone naked!" Goth Girl shouted.
"Cry harder, it makes you lighter!" sobbed Overachiever Nerd.
"Remember, you're a beautiful failure!" added Shy Girl, sliding another note under the table.
[i.d.e.a.l.] chimed in helpfully:
[i.d.e.a.l.]:"Status: You are currently failing at an accelerated rate.Recommendation: Embarrass yourself harder."
"THAT'S NOT HELPING!!" Milo shrieked as he tripped over his clown shoes, fell on his butt, and somehow shot a stream of glitter straight into the air.
Mistress Misery summoned visions from Milo's personal archives of shame:
Six-year-old Milo, wetting himself onstage during the second-grade Thanksgiving pageant.
Teenage Milo getting brutally rejected after confessing to his high school crush.
Adult Milo waving enthusiastically at someone who absolutely wasn't waving back.
The illusions circled him like emotional vultures.
Milo curled up slightly, feeling the walls closing in—until—
LIGHTBULB.
"Wait..." he gasped aloud, blinking through a rain of glitter and shame. "If she gets stronger when I feel bad... what if I just stop caring?"
The idea was so stupid it might just work.
Milo staggered to his feet, shook off a confetti poof from his diaper, and decided to stop fighting the cringe.
Turning the Tables
Milo pointed dramatically at Mistress Misery.His tiara squeaked.
"Prepare yourself!" he bellowed in a cracking voice, "for the rise of my TRUE FORM — CAPTAIN CRINGE!"
He immediately launched into the worst dance known to humanity:The Dad At A Wedding Special.
Flailing arms.Off-beat clapping.Random high kicks.All of it... on purpose.
Mistress Misery stumbled backward.
The illusions flickered.
"NO!" she shrieked. "STOP LAUGHING AT YOURSELF! RESPECT ME! FEAR ME!"
Instead, Milo pulled out an invisible microphone and belted out a horribly off-key karaoke version of "My Heart Will Go On."
Every note weakened Mistress Misery further.The world around them trembled.
[i.d.e.a.l.] updated gleefully:
[i.d.e.a.l.]:"Tactic Identified: Maximum Self-Ownage.Status: Emotional Immunity Rising."
Milo wasn't done.
With a mighty (and squeaky) leap, he conjured a massive, glowing version of himself:—wearing rubber chicken armor,—a tutu the color of bad life choices,—and a helmet shaped like a banana.
"THIS IS WHO I AM!" Milo declared proudly, voice echoing across Heartbreak High. "A LEGEND OF SHAME! A KING OF CRINGE!"
Then he unleashed his ultimate move:THE CRINGE TACKLE.
With all the grace of a drunken alpaca, he hurled himself at Mistress Misery.
The impact shattered the dream world's illusions like glass.
Mistress Misery shrieked one last time—and poofed into a cloud of sad, whimpering memes.
The Sad Club erupted in cheering (and light weeping).
Goth Girl threw black confetti.Jock punched a nearby wall out of excitement.Overachiever Nerd immediately started calculating the physics of the Cringe Tackle.
Floating amid the glittering wreckage, Milo saw it:a glowing Memory Fragment — a distorted scene of a younger girl freezing up onstage, being laughed at by her classmates.
Milo touched it gently.
The fragment dissolved into warm light, absorbed into his chest.
[i.d.e.a.l.] updated:
[i.d.e.a.l.]:"Memory Fragment Acquired: Fear of Humiliation.Power Unlocked: Emotional Reflection —Reflect emotional attacks back at the source with increased sass."
Milo, still in a diaper, bunny ears, and tiara, collapsed into a cafeteria chair.
"...I need a long shower," he muttered.
"And a new identity," added Overachiever Nerd helpfully.
The school around them continued to crumble.
It was time to move on.
But Milo smiled — tired, glitter-stained, and victorious.
Because for the first time in a long time,he wasn't afraid to look stupid anymore.