AN: This is a short thing that I did for a writing prompt. The prompt was: Write the point of view of a character talking to a friend about the town they live in. The catch? Their town is known across the country for one very specific reason. Double catch? The character hates this town.
So, here you go!
"But, if you hate it so much, why are you still here?"
"I dunno, man," Thrash shrugged and dropped his friend's bags on the living room floor. "Lack of funds, I guess."
"Dude! Come live with me. Sarah won't mind you crashing with us for a while." Rage swept one arm wide as he sank into the newspaper covered couch. He rearranged the multiple straps and chains adorning his pants so he could sit comfortably. "She's cool. You two've got to meet."
"Too bad she couldn't come. Hey, want anything to drink?"
"Beer's good."
The pot bellied twenty-something vanished into his kitchen before returning with two opened bottles of beer. He handed one over to his friend before taking a seat on the papasan.
"So, how's Ohio?" His childhood best friend had moved to Columbus shortly after graduating from high school. Neither of them had particularly enjoyed southern California, despite being born and raised in the now famous city of Anaheim. Rage had packed his beat up Civic with whatever would fit in it and driven east, exploring the country and finding where he wanted to be.
"It's awesome and hell at the same time. Like, I totally don't miss this heat or the traffic or all the spics; but, there's just so many god damned rednecks! And they're super obsessed with their college football team." He snorted in derision. "It's Buckeyes this and Buckeyes that. You know what a fucking buckeye is?"
"Uh, deer eyeball?"
"A tree. The retarded state named their college team after a tree. Who the hell does that?"
"Wait," Thrash leaned forward, elbow resting on his knee, "I thought you liked it there. Why'd you stay?" A sly smile slowly spread across is face. "It's Sarah, isn't it?"
"Dude, I'll admit it. Sarah's a big part of the reason I'm there for now. The rest of it? My apartment's cheap as hell, it's actually green there, no water restrictions, and they've got a killer music scene." Rage ran a hand through his dyed black hair. Rings covered each finger, in some cases more than one on each digit. "So, how's Mookie?"
"Good. We're still working at Captain Comics."
"That looser place? I thought you'd be running your own place by now!"
"Pssh! Yeah, right." He'd looked into it. Problem was, running a comic shop just wasn't as profitable as he'd dreamed it would be back in high school. Not having a business degree, or college education to speak of, didn't help matters with getting a start up loan at the bank either. For now, the dream sat on the back burner and he had to content himself with working for someone else.
Lucifer, Thrash's black cat, came trotting out from the bedroom and tentatively sniffed at the new luggage taking up space in his house. He hissed at it before turning tail and sauntering over to Thrash. Green eyes stared at the human, demanding attention that was being given to this rude interloper.
Thrash ignored the cat.
"So," Rage raised an eager eyebrow, "Aliens. How freaky-cool is that? I can't believe you're actually one of the first people they made contact with! What are they like?"
Thrash shrugged, trying to play it cool. The quirk of his lip and enthusiastic gleam in his eye told a different story. "Actually, they're pretty much like us, cept they've got feathers and are mondo obsessed with hockey."
"Think we can see a game while I'm here?"
"Since when do you care about hockey?"
"Uh, since aliens decided to land in my hometown and joined the NHL. Duh."
Thrash snorted. "You and everyone else."
"Problem?"
"Yeah! It's like, all Anaheim was known for before the Ducks was Disneyland and oranges. We got plenty of crazies hanging around, hoping to see their favorite Disney princess or get a job at Mouse World. Now? It's like Area 51 on top of the Mousekateers. Half the people who come into Captain Comics aren't even interested in comics; they're just trying to 'accidentally' meet Nosedive." He made finger quotes to show his disdain for the obvious tactics used by sightseers who hung around and never bought anything.
"Yuck."
"Yup."
They sat in silence for a moment before Thrash reached over and uncovered the remote. As soon as he turned on the television, a news report of some strange explosion and the possible involvement of the Mighty Ducks came up. The tube turned off a split second later.
"What? I kind of wanted to see that." Rage set the empty beer bottle on the floor and twisted sideways on the couch, one leg stretched across the sofa and the other dragging on the floor.
"Dude! It's all bullshit, every time. The news never gets it right."
"How'd you know?"
"Uh, duh, I see Nosedive a couple times a week. He tells us everything about the insane stuff they get into." He absentmindedly stroked the cat that had taken up residence on his lap.
"He could be lying."
"Why? I've seen a lot of the stuff he's talked about. It all sounds unbelievable; but, it's true. Like, there are aliens across the street from the mall. If that's true, who's to say there isn't an underground city of lizard people in LA?"
"Dude." Rage's eyes went wide and he sat up. "Wanna go search for them? We could bring Nosedive and show him a bit of California culture."
"Somehow, I doubt he wants to go searching for lizard men." Especially considering he fought them regularly… Then again, Nosedive would be exactly who they'd want along for the trip in case they really did exist. Maybe Grin too. Yeah, the big guy would be good to have there. "But, we could ask him."
"And when do I get to meet your extraterrestrial friends?"
Thrash grabbed his phone. "Want to see tonight's game? I think their next couple games are away's, so this'd be the only one you could see."
"Fuck. Yeah." He nodded slowly, a dopey grin on his face.
"Let's see if Dive can get us some tickets." With that, he began dialing. The next week was sure to be a blast.