Title: Do Not Inhale
Author: Neme
Blood Type: Apple Pizza. The best pizza. Ever.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. But I have to obey it, because it's the law.
Warnings: Mild sexual references. Space monkeys. That's…about it.
Author's Notes: This was a part of a series of pieces written on the topic of writer's block. The series was entitled "Literary Sub-Genius" and is currently archived at Gurabite.
Eiri sat before the alter, breathing slowly. The smoke from the incense curled gracefully around his head and neck, wafting past his nostrils. The candles burned brightly past his closed eyelids; he inhaled deeply and began to pray.
Nothing was working. He had never been this blocked before. This was something that not even copious amounts of kinky sex had been able to cure. He cursed Shuichi silently for suggesting the body butter; he couldn't rend the smell from his nostrils. Sweet, tangy skin…
Eiri cursed silently and willed his mind to still. Praying while thinking about the ways his lover's supple body had responded to his touch was…
"Wrong," a voice interrupted, lazy and British.
Eiri's eyes snapped open. A monkey in a silver jumpsuit lounged in the space between the wall and the candles.
"That's a common mistake," he said cheerfully. "I'm a space monkey. But you, you can call me Harold."
"Harold."
"That's right. Really top notch. I couldn't have expected better," Harold remarked derisively, adjusting a silver strap that seemed to do absolutely nothing. "You can't write."
"Come from a species that doesn't even have a written language, that's an empty insult," Eiri snapped.
"How true!" Harold lamented, examining his hands with sorrow. "No opposable thumbs, you know. Makes it a bit difficult."
"Thanks for that," Eiri said, getting up and dusting his robes off. The space-suited simian was irritating. Almost as irritating as Shuichi – Eiri didn't even know why Harold was here.
"I'm taking over Japan. I was just going to do Tokyo, but then I decided that someone of my caliber could stand to have a whole country under my control."
"What are you going to use?" Eiri found himself asking before he could stop.
"Flags, mostly. But there's also my legion of ninja space monkeys willing to obey my every command," Harold boasted.
"If I see any 'magical girls', I'll be sure to let them know. I have work to do."
"Yes, I know. Writing a little love story; A romance to make housewives swoon and long for a bath." Harold paused thoughtfully. "Your progress has been absolutely smashing, by the way."
"Why. Are. You. Here?" Eiri ground out sharply. He could feel his temper beginning to fray.
"No, really. I think Carl's character works so much better now that his name starts with a 'K'. Karl, Karl, Karl. It rolls off the tongue, you see."
More beer. Yes, more beer was definitely in order.
"So here's the deal, Sparky," Harold said, leaping nimbly over the candles and landing on the floor with a thud. "Since I'm just sitting around and waiting for the deal to close my hostile takeover bid, I'm willing to do you a favor."
Why would an obviously evil monkey be willing to help him? Eiri thought a bit deliriously. This was all too surreal.
"Frankly, Spanky, I think you've got what it takes. That is, of course, if your brain still functions at a standard level." The space monkey removed a device from the lining of his silver jumpsuit, looking all the world like some sort of simian Napoleon.
"One of this world's better leaders," he said as the lights on the device went haywire. "This is…interesting." The monkey tapped the screen twice, brow furrowed in concentration. "According to this…you have no brain."
Eiri scowled. How ridiculous. Of course he had a brain.
"Correction. You used to have a brain. It's quite gone now," he concluded, snapping his computer shut and sliding it back inside his jumpsuit.
"What the fuck!" Eiri's temper exploded. Why the hell was he even listening to the space monkey anyway? Darwin was right – it was survival of the fittest and he would prove this puisne rung on the evolutionary ladder.
"Karl's poor plight would signify otherwise. I'm afraid that my regime might not have a use for you after all." Harold proceeded to draw what looked like an overly large pen from what appeared to be a holster. "In our society, if you're not useful, i.e., brainless, we kill you."
Eiri's eyes went wide. He was going to be shot by a space monkey with a ray gun! Well, it was certainly a twist, he thought.
"Say goodnight –"
"YUKI!"
Eiri startled awake, unsure of what was going on. The candles that had been burning so brightly a moment ago were now flickering dully in puddles of wax. The incense drifted trailed upward to the ceiling lazily, thinning before dying out completely. Shuichi's toes wiggled a bit in his socks, crisp and white.
"Did you fall asleep while meditating again?"
"No. I just find that sleeping in my robes on the floor is better for my back," Eiri retorted.
"Oh." Shuichi's toes wiggled again. "Well…was it better for your writer's block?"
"I do not have writer's block! I am merely taking a damned vacation!" Eiri stormed off. His back was sore and the heady smell of the incense clung to his hair. He needed a shower.
Shuichi nodded slowly. "Sure. Whatever you say. …Sparky."