John walked anxiously into the coffee shop. He had a right to be nervous. It wasn't every day that he finally got to meet his best friend that he had been talking to online for the better part of his life. John was a twenty-one year old university student, who was studying at a nearby campus. He had a taste for movies (all of which he believed to be exceptional), and his favorite color was green. The other aforementioned male was a self- proclaimed coolkid going by the name of Dave Strider. Said male enjoyed rapping, dead things, and DJ'ing. An odd combination when he thought about it. And he thought about this character of odd combinations a lot.

Blinking to rid himself of the mind- clouding thoughts, he surveyed the coffee shop for the guy who fit his before- pixelated best friend's description of himself. However, no one really fit the description of "sicknasty coolkid badass", so he was going to have to go by the one defining feature he knew he would find. Said feature being the mirrored shades he had given Dave for his thirteenth birthday. However, he did not see the trademark shades anywhere. This would be a problem.

Refusing to let his admittedly buck- toothed smile waver, he headed up to the counter to order himself a drink. The lineup was not too long, which was surprising for Starbucks; but who was he to question it? It would give him more time to reflect, and also to puzzle upon why his best friend had not shown up yet. Was Dave nervous? No, he seemed completely fearless. Had he forgotten? Well, that was a possibility, but it was still quite unlikely. They had been talking about this for a good week, and had finally worked it in with both their schedules. Dave was taking film classes at the local community college, so he had lots of work as well. Damn, where was Rose when you needed her?

John snapped out of his reverie to purchase his drink from the cashier behind the counter. Unsure of how to proceed, he ordered a black coffee for Dave as well. He took the drinks as they were handed to him and went back to sit at a table. What could Dave possibly be doing that could be more important that hanging out with his longtime best friend? He stared forlornly at the other customers and took a melancholy sip of his mocha. However, he did not see the platinum blond, shades- sporting filmmaker creep up behind him to tap him on his shoulder.

"Hey, Egbert," came the voice cool, unperturbed voice.

"Dave?" John queried as he turned around in his seat. And with that, the epic tale of Strider and Egbert began.