The Maze Bummer: A Parody of The Maze Runner

Thomas sat across from Chuck, eating what seemed like the thousandth pizza he’d eaten since arriving. In an attempt to make it more appetizing he’d frozen the pizza and was licking it like a popsicle.

“Can’t I just have one normal day here?” lamented Thomas. “It was bad enough having everyone accuse me of hooking up with their girlfriend. Now I’ve got a girl in a coma talking to me.”

How’s the pizza, Tom? My favorite flavor is meatball.

“Arrrggggh,” Thomas screamed, grabbing his head. “Just stop already!”

Chuck wasn’t listening, though. He wasn’t eating, either. He was just staring glumly at his plate.

“What’s wrong?” said Thomas.

“Nothin’,” said Chuck.

“If you’re not eating, something’s clearly wrong,” said Thomas. “Spill it.”

Chuck took a deep breath. “Thomas, do you think I’ll ever hook up with a girl?”

“Of course you will, dude!” Thomas said. “Don’t worry, we’ll get out of here soon.”

“But what if we don’t?” said Chuck.

For the first time, Thomas felt something that made him so angry he wanted to kill someone. Thanks to whoever created this place, Chuck might never have the experience of going to a crowded party in the filthy, sweaty basement of a fraternity with no air conditioning, drinking warm cheap beer to the point he was throwing up, hitting on every girl in sight and completely objectifying them rather than treating them like human beings, taking upstairs whichever girl happened to agree to it regardless of either looks or compatibility, hooking up with her in someone else’s bed that hadn’t had the sheets washed in months, falling asleep, sneaking out in the morning when he woke up, and not remembering a single thing about the experience.

How could anyone do that to Chuck?

“Chuck, I promise you, I will help get you out of here, and you will hook up with a girl,” said Thomas.

“Thanks,” said Chuck, smiling as a tear rolled down his cheek.

Hey Tom, if there’s any extra meatball pizza there could you put in the fridge for when I wake up?

“Stopppppp!” Thomas said, hitting himself on the head repeatedly.

“Better save some of that energy, shank,” said Minho, walking up to Thomas. “You’re gonna be needing every ounce of energy you’ve got.”

“Oh yeah?” said Thomas. “Why’s that?”

“We’ve decided to make you a Jogger,” said Minho. “And your training starts tomorrow.”