In a horrifying twist on an otherwise relaxing beach day, 25-year-old Brandon Onder brought a Frisbee.
It all started when Brandon invited a group of his friends – Jenna, Monique, and Cristopher – to the closest beach to enjoy one of their last remaining weekends of summer. Delighted by the suggestion, Brandon’s friends packed their bags with the essentials, including sunscreen, Sally Rooney books, and magazines. All seemed normal as the group arrived at the beach. But suddenly, Brandon held up a bright red disc and announced, “I brought a Frisbee!” as though he had single-handedly saved the day.
While the others responded with a breezy chorus of “oh neat!” and “fun!”, each simultaneously experienced a mixture of dread, annoyance, and exhaustion at the thought that they would A) have to move and B) have to summon up Olympic athlete levels of hand/eye coordination for this completely pointless task.
“Why would he do something like that?” wondered Monique. “I thought we were his friends.”
As Brandon took a nap in the sun without a care in the world, the others pretended to doze in tense silence, their eyes darting every few seconds to the Frisbee near Brandon’s left thigh.
“He could throw it at me at literally any time,” explained Cristopher, a crazed panic in his eye. “And then what would I do?! Seriously, please tell me what to do if someone throws a frisbee at me. Help me. Please.”
Recent sightings of the group confirm that Brandon is currently trying to convince his on-again/off-again girlfriend Jenna to just throw the disc around. “It’s easy, I’ll teach you!” he keeps urging. “It’s all in the wrist.”
“He thinks it’s gonna be this fun, flirty teaching moment,” explained Jenna, wearily. “But this isn’t my first rodeo. Mark my words, he’s gonna get frustrated and then I will cry. I thought today would be fun.”
Brandon has not yet announced that his upcoming Labor Day cookout will revolve heavily around a whiffle ball game, but our analysis predicts that the results will be catastrophic to several of his friendships.