It was a fine spring day and the neighborhood was silent. Officer Doyle was sleeping on the corner in his cruiser. The guys down the road were loading drugs into their vans, occasionally chuckling at the sight of the inactive police cruiser. Mike was out on his lawn watching television while Wendy glared over the fence at him. Just another typical saturday in peaceful Myuurgetmukamuk.

"Where the hell is my sword?" Luke asked the neighborhood in a slightly loud voice.

A thud inside the house answered him.

"I knew it," he muttered as he stalked to the backdoor.

Heaving the door open, he ducked to avoid the boxing glove Matt had rigged up on an air pressure hose attached to the opposite wall a few weeks before and never taken down. It punched the air to the left of his face and retracted. Luke quickly ascended the stairs and turned into Matt's room. There he found about what he had expected: Matt with an arm extended out to the side; wasted John poised with the broadsword behind him, gripped in both hands.

"What the hell are you doing now?"

"Getting money," Matt answered in a way that implied he wasn't holding out his arm to let a drunk cut it off.

"At the expense of your arm?"

"The docs can sew it back on. Seen it on TV. Won't be able to do any work for several weeks though. Government'll pay me to just sit on my ass."

Luke sighed, "And they won't question how you got your arm cut off? John, how are you feeling?"

"Can't feel my arms no more," John said in a slurred voice.

"I meant up top."

"Ain't felt a girl up top for weeks, Lu."

"That's nice."

Matt rolled his eyes, "The feds don't care how I got my arm cut off. They have plenty of money just sitting around asking to be given away."

"You haven't had a job since you lost that one at Jenson's. Is this what you're going to do for the rest of your life?"

"He's got a point," agreed John, struggling to hold the sword over his head still.

"Oh, shut up! I'm old enough to make my own decisions, mom!"

"Haha, very funny. I'll have my broadsword back, thank you," he said, rescuing John from the incredible weight. John fell back onto Matt's bed and promptly began to drool.

"I'm sorry man. Here, have my lucky Inkbiz," said Matt, tossing Luke a ballpoint.

Luke began to descend the stairs, "A lucky pen? Cripes, you had a weird childhood."

He reached the door, "I always had a lucky rabbit's foot."

As he opened the door, he looked again at the pen, "And this isn't an Ink- Gahh!"

Matt, who had been watching from the top of the stairs rushed down and knelt beside Luke, who was clutching at his eye.

"Fuck!"

"Oh God! Sorry man, I'll call an ambulance!" Matt shouted as he ran for the kitchen.

It was a fine spring day and there was blood on the back steps.

Chapter 1: Having No Life: A Philosophy by Simon Bradbury

I live in a small suburb on the outskirts of Salem called Myuurgetmukamuk. The mayor decided to call it that to show his support of Native Americans about six years ago. There are absolutely none within city limits except one guy. He told me that the name means something like 'soup line.' The inhabitants certainly look like the types you'd see there.

I share a house with three other guys. They're kind of like family. Matt's been my best friend since I was in grade school. He was also my only friend in grade school. Luke is the second one. He's a really nice guy and always pays his rent, but sometimes I get the impression he's living in a completely different world. My third roommate, John, is an utter slob and annoying as hell. I'd kick him out if my sister weren't blackmailing me to keep him here. Together, the four of us (plus our tech guy, Mark) make up the greatest hardcore techno-jazz-elven-rock band on the block. And before you ask, it's not a boy band!

Our neighbors are, if anything, worse. I can't exactly explain how, but let's just say that we live in a colorful neighborhood full of entertaining individuals. April 7th (It may have been the 8th, actually. I can't remember exactly; I was wasted the entire weekend.) started out just like any other day. Burnt coffee, toasted whole wheat bread, and the latest novel by Marc Acito. That's what I get up for in the morning.

I had just gotten to a good bit when Matt sat down in the chair opposite mine. He picked the mail pile up and began sifting through it for anything addressed to him. He produced about six letters and a package and uttered some cheesy line similar to "Somebody loves me" and began to tear them open.

"Bill, bill, bill, bill, porn, bill, and a complementary package of tube socks, aren't I lucky," he mused sarcastically, tossing six of the items back on the pile. I glanced again at the mail pile, then went back to reading.

"Morning, gentlemen. And Matt," Luke mumbled drowsily.

Matt grunted and turned a page. Luke took the orange juice and milk out of the fridge and began rummaging in the cupboard for cereal.

"Did someone finish off the oatmeal?" Luke asked, retracting his head from the opening.

Right on cue, John entered the kitchen, his headphones hanging lazily on his neck, bits of oatmeal sticking to the crevices of his face.

"Do I look different to you guys?" he asked cheerily.

"Not really," said Luke, "You still look like a prick."

"Oatmeal facial, good for the complexion. The ladies will be all over this," John said, opening the orange juice bottle and taking a swig.

"Only if the ants don't get to it first. We have glasses, you know."

"I know, I just don't want to dirty a cup and create more work for you."

From Luke's expression, John was about to get a round of elvish tongue lashing. I quickly closed my book and stood up to leave.

"Hey Simon, where are you going?" asked Matt, not even looking up. "You don't have work; it's Saturday."

"Yeah, I know. Star asked me to help her get that song right. You know that one with the Eskimo."

"If she really wanted to do a good job on it, why doesn't she ask me for help?" asked Matt.

"First off, she's my girlfriend," I spouted.

"Is this all the vodka we've got left?" interrupted John.

"Yes," I said shortly, frustrated at his cutting in.

As Luke began cussing poetically in elvish about drunken wastrels, I continued, "Secondly, I'm the lead guitarist in the band-"

"Co-lead guitarist," snapped Matt, at last looking up.

"And most importantly, no girl would ever trust you alone with her," I finished in a heated voice.

"If this is about that high school girl, I was wasted. Completely wasted. I had never been that wasted, I haven't been that wasted since, and most importantly, I don't think I'd survive being that wasted again!"

I burst out laughing. This was the best part about having Matt for a friend. Even when you were having a row, he could make you laugh. During my great aunt Beth's funeral, he made me piss my pants I was laughing so hard. It was rather embarrassing later, but it was still pretty humorous at the time. I only wish I could remember what he had said that was so funny.

"See you later, fellas," I called over my shoulder.

Assorted calls of "Later, dude!" answered me.

I hopped in my old Gremlin, using the window for entrance, seeing as the door was jammed shut. Before I could pull out, Brendan had slinked over from wherever he had been lurking.

Kicking the faded and chipped paint on the door lightly, he said, "You do know that there are other drivers on the road, right? Drivers who want to live to reach their destinations."

"Good morning to you, too. Mind stealing my hubcap while you're at it?"

"No need. They're already gone."

I stuck my head out the window. Sure enough, they had vanished. The only thing that really surprised me is that I had kept them for as long as I had.

"Maybe you should get a garage," suggested Brendan.

"Maybe you should get some friends. That way, I won't have to put up with you all day. Well, at least they left the nuts on there."

"Most of them, anyway. Three out of five left at worst."

Making sure no one was behind me, I slowly backed out. I had reason to be cautious. I'd already run over one of the neighbors, Matt (by accident, I swear), and a three-month-old calf (Don't ask).

Once I was safely away from Brendan, I shifted into high gear and drove 90 all the way to Star's apartment. Well, not all the way. I parked three blocks away so she wouldn't see that I still drove a car. A week before, I had agreed to stop driving my car and walk more often because it's healthy.

I knocked on Star's door. About half a minute later, she opened it with a big smile on her face.

"I didn't hear you pull up."

"That's because I walked here," I replied with my characteristic eyebrow quirk.

She giggled in that cute way that would make some girls unbearable to live with, but because it was her, just made her that much more attractive.

"You didn't just park the car three blocks away, did you?"

"Of course not," I said in my most sincere voice.

"You did."

"I did."

"And what's your excuse?"

"Got this pair of sandals for you," I said, holding out a shopping bag with a smirk.

She frowned and crossed her arms, "I can't help but notice you didn't use my eco-bag."

"They're made from real leather."

She had them out of the bag in a flash and before the bag had hit the ground she was modeling her shoes for me.

"My little sister used to do this sort of thing all the time. She wanted to grow up to be a fashion model."

"Really?"

"Didn't you?"

"No."

"Liar."

Star gave me a kiss on the lips that was like… Star giving me a kiss on the lips. Don't tell me I'm not poetic or romantic or something like that. I know I'm fucking romantic. Star told me so.

"I forgive you."

"Did I ask for forgiveness?" she asked, a slightly feral gleam in her eye.

"You should, the way you keep me from all the other girls. It causes me daily moral pain to not share my love with the world."

"Poor Simon. If only he had a brain."

Then she and I had fun.

Chapter 1: What an Artist Does Before an Introduction

"Either do your business or get off the pot!"

"Can't you let a guy read his mag in peace?" Matt shouted back.

I wasn't in the mood for Matt's infuriating bloody-mindedness.

"Jesus is crying," moaned John.

"Thank you."

"Jesus doesn't give a fuck!" shouted Matt.

"Aren't you Christian?" I asked, aware that I was frowning at an oak door.

"Fuck yeah!"

"Remind me why I don't live somewhere else," I moaned.

"You can't afford to live anywhere else."

"I didn't want an actual answer, John."

"Then why did you ask?"

"If you're going to discuss talking, could you do it somewhere else?" asked Matt.

"Could you peruse your porn somewhere else?"

"I- Wait! What did you say?"

"I said 'could you peruse your porn somewhere else?'."

"What the hell does 'peruse' mean?"

"Uh… flip through?"

"Oh. Then no."

"Hey guys. Line for the bathroom, eh?"

"Hi, Mark," I said to Mark.

"Is that Mark?" asked Matt.

"Yeah," said Mark.

"Simon out there, too?"

"No."

"So we haven't reached critical mass yet."

"Apparently not."

"Mark, why are you here?" asked Matt.

"You said your amp wasn't working right. I came over to fix it."

"It's in my room."

"Okay. By the way, thanks for the ACDC CD, John."

"No prob."

"Back to the issue here. Matt, John and I both have to use the toilet. Get out."

"Dude, I don't bother you when you're playing those sex games-"

"Dating sims."

"Whatever."

"Actually, you do bother me while I'm playing dating sims. All the time! Can't you bloody knock?"

"Look, I didn't mean to get into this drawn out argument with you anyway and it's a real mood-killer."

"So are you done?"

"No. I'll just need another twenty minutes."

My rage was building. All it would take to set me off was one more little thing.

"And that Japanese stuff you're into is totally perverted."

"!" I gave a shout of manly anger and delivered a declaration of war in the elegant elvish language.

Nevertheless, Matt persisted in his efforts to piss me off.

"You swear like a ninny! You're a level 80 ninth-tier nerd! Your theories about that blue-haired girl are completely absurd!"

"Hey! Konata Izumi is a god made flesh! I swear! There is clear evidence in-"

"You have a mullet! Your raggedy slippers piss me off! Your sword is a display model!"

"That's it! Nobody insults my slippers! Open this door!" I shouted, wrenching at the doorknob.

"Jeez, why won't you leave?"

"Hey, losers," said Brendan.

"How the hell did that bastard get in here?" shouted Matt.

"Your front door is open."

"Bastard!"

"He got porn in there?"

"What's it to you?" Matt shouted.

"Yeah," said john.

"Tell that asshole he can suck it!"

"Yeah. I heard that. I'm gonna put my leftover soup in your fridge. I'm out of room in mine."

"Keep out of that fridge, bastard!"

"Hey, Matt, which girl got the centerfold this week?" asked Brendan.

There was an audible silence in which the sound of pages being turned behind an oak door in a room with walls thinner than an eggshell was the only sound whatsoever.

"Cleo."

"Guess I won't bother getting that one."

"I can't find your amplifier," said Mark.

"It's under a pile of clothes."

"Which one?"

"You expect me to keep track of my clothing piles?" asked Matt lazily.

I had had some time to sit back and look at this from an objective viewpoint. It was actually beginning to get pretty funny.

"You guys mind if I get rid of something in your fridge?" asked Brendan.

"Depends," I said.

"Fuck no!" shouted Matt.

"This leftover take-out. It's got something green all over it."

"Is it wasabi?"

Mark took one look at it and said, "Looks a bit spicier than that."

"Five bucks says Brendan can't eat it all!"

"Good morning, sweetie," said Miyuki, my cutie pie girlfriend.

"Is that Mrs. Nickelby?" shouted Matt. "Hey, Mrs. Nickelby, can you bake me some cookies?"

"He's reading porn in the bathroom, isn't he?" asked Miyuki.

"Mm, yeah."

"How long has he been in there?"

"I might have to take out this Kool-aid, too!" Brendan shouted from the kitchen.

"About twenty minutes now."

"Don't you dare!" cried Matt.

"So how long do you reckon it'll be until Officer Doyle comes snooping around?" asked Miyuki.

"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes."

"Matt locked in the bathroom again?"

"Hello, Delia. That would be yes."

"Hello!" shouted Matt.

"Delia?" asked Miyuki.

"He's got porn in there, doesn't he?"

Brendan popped up behind her, "It's Matt all right!"

"This is Simon's sister. Miyuki, Delia. Delia, Miyuki."

"When did we schedule a neighborhood meeting in the hallway?" asked Matt with impressive exasperation.

"I really should have strapped that bottle to my leg for peeing in…" mumbled John.

"I'm not going to dig through all those piles of dirty clothes to find your stupid amplifier. Fix it yourself."

"Come here often?"

"Hey, watch it!"

"Your face makes my fist feel underused!"

"Did somebody order a pizza?"

"I find Tinker Bell attractive."

"Do you have anything besides diet?"

"Centerfold's Cleo, can you believe it?"

"Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!"

After this point I more or less blacked out, trampled beneath the shoes of my neighbors and acquaintances.