Creative Writing: Pass The Pringle

Seventy days, that’s how long it took me to figure out that I belonged to a cult. I mean, not like a super “culty” cult. Like, we met in a shed and played video games. But enough to call it you know, that.
When I came into the cult, Max told me, “Pass the Pringles, they’re beside the PS4.”
I didn’t know that was my first test or my first and only rule.
I passed him the Pringles. He smiled, his eyes lit up like tiny fires. He sat back down on his bean bag chair and made some jokes. Easily, he transitioned into talking about his hardships with his parents. I wasn’t really close to Max at the time, so I quietly chewed on my Pringles and waited for my buddies Matt and Felix to chip in, but they didn’t.
The next day I came over, he asked me to pass him the pretzels, so I did. This time he asked me about my parents, and I echoed a similar story. My throat got all dry talking to him.
But it’s hard to be on the same level as them,” he told me. It was true. He was just one of those people who simply knew.
The third day, I passed him a cream soda. Max told me about his girl trouble. He was actually quite wise. “You have something inside of yourself, Tony. You have to hold onto it and believe in it. I know that you can be beaten down at times, a little angry. But you are so much more than