an: I must preface this with a warning- cheeky humor, gay relationships, alcohols and/or hookah, magics, bitter New Yorkers, and excessive CAPS can and will be found in this story. If you are looking for something that makes sense, please TURN AWAY! It's badfic at its ultimate worst. I thought up this idea years ago in highschool-- Iago was too human to have always been a parrot. And besides, why does he talk when every other creature in the movies does not? This is my skewed reality. Lots of thanks to my coworker Allison (Jafar) who helped/helps me with a lot of the jokes and encouraged my sickness.

Catcher in

THE SAND

It was a normal disgusting day at my work, the "Arabean Café". Cute, huh? NOT. I swear, the bozo who thought that one up must've been smokin' the hookah or something. I hate the hookah. I hate relaxing drugs! I hate anything that makes me feel UNAGITATED! Because it isn't REAL and I FREAK OUT! I feel disoriented and happy, which is just revolting. Anyway. God. The Arabean Café. You know it right? It's this swanky little piece o' junk coffee and wine bar on the outskirts o' Agrabah where all the arty schmoes go hang out and be JUST DEPRESSING over their red wine and vegan sausage! Of course, some might call me an 'arty schmo', but at least I don't whine about how my life is so terrible and how I might just UP AND DIE, because I been around the block a few times and I know that life is TOO TERRIBLE TO DIE! ANYWAY.

My name is Iago, but you can see that from my stupid little nametag, unless you're BLIND. Geeze-Louize, our town motto should be The Land of the Rising Problems. Iago. That's my name. I'm thirty years old, for crying out loud, and I teach drama at the Agrabah Art Institute which is a hack place with no way to move onself forward whatsoever, I should know. I've worked there ten years and they've never even given me a raise. I put up with all their shenanigans and teach their slovenly hack students! They never even offer me good parts in the monthly productions. I'm always stuck in some comedic role, and everyone's always saying: "Iago! You were great! I was laughin' my pants off!" And I gotta say: "You chump! I wasn't being funny! I was ACTING!" Comedian. Me? Yeah right. That'll be the day!

So I work this stupid bartending job to raise money for myself because my measly art school paycheck is so small, I can barely survive! I figure one of these days, I'm gonna strike it big and maybe find some treasure. Yeah, I like gold and other shiny things, but for now, I guess toppin' off the wine glasses of little bimbos who can't even keep their veils on all night is good enough for me! On this particular night, it was the same as usual. The same twittery, annoying little schmucks saying: "Oh, yes, I know about such-n-such an artist! Ha ha ha!" Jerks. Though some o' them are pretty good eye candy! Oh yeah yeah, I forgot to mention I swing the other way. Luckily, Agrabah's a pretty progressive town, which is odd because it's one of the most conservative places on the map. Most of the people don't even look or sound like they're from here. Don't even ask me why that is, 'cause I wouldn't know! Geeze. So anyway, yeah, I go for guys, though they're all pretty dang stupid. I've gone for a student or two (or six! HA! WHO'S COUNTING!?) and they're all pretty but so NICE. I hate nice people, it's just such a sign of weakness. So basically, I hate dating. It's just ridiculous.

All around me were these twenty-something idiots all out on dates and I was beginning to get very mad-like, gritting my teeth and wringing my hands. When I get like that, I absolutely refuse to work. I just have to go to the back of the café and scream or curse in Yiddish or something, because I just can't stand it! However, before I could get too angry, this kid walked in and all of a sudden, I was absolutely just hit with all this LUST.

I mean, this guy was made right: tall, willowy, all hips, no muscle, and he had this EVIL look to him. I love EVIL looks on men, it just tickles me. So I sat there all ga-ga for probably close to twenty two minutes, and he'd all ready been snapped up by this stupid bimbo I work with named Jenna—now that is NOT an Agrabah NAME! Who was she trying to kid, anyway? It made me so mad seeing her leaning across the bar, pouring that dark and sinister kid a glass of red wine. I started to plot, all the while rubbing my hands together and getting this excellent, evil smile. It was then that I came up behind her and "accidentally" (AH HAH HA!) dropped all this hot coffee down her stupid dress. She started screaming like a wuss and had to leave, so of course I just stood there gawking at this guy, trying to decide whether or not I should make my move. He was pretty damn girly, which meant either 1) RAVING HOMO or 2) RAISED BY HIS MOTHER. I prayed it was number one! Or at least that it was number two with some leeway, maybe a question mark. Anyway, that's not important. I was wondering exactly how I was going to talk to this chump. He seemed all lost in his own world, and slightly depressed, which is always a plus. The depressed ones are always clingy. Nine times out of ten, at least. Ah, the odds were in my favor!

He was really putting that wine away, all the while sorta playing with his very twisted beard. He had these really cute gaps between his teeth and these like, heavily made up eyes which furthered my decision that he was FLAMING! And if he wasn't, what did I have to lose? Nothing! I was a stupid, thirty-year old drama teacher in AGRABAH, which seems like a made up place sometimes because of how DUMB it is! So I suddenly just leaned over the counter and grinned creepily.

"So uh, was it a stupid tramp who put ya in this sorry state?" I was always really witty like this when picking up guys.

The kid looked up at me, his eyes filled with question. "Whaaat?" he questioned, and he drew out every syllable calmly and coolly, despite the bewildered look on his thin face. He had a silky, smooth voice, deep and disturbing. I loved it!

But then I realized I might've made an error in judgment. Maybe my Gaydar was rusty! It wasn't the first time. Anyway, I watched his expression. Oh geeze. Suddenly though, his creepy thin mouth went into a smirk and he leaned forward, smelling like Patchouli and magics. "No," he said erotically, or at least I thought so," this has absolutely nothing to do with… the weaker sex."

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, OH BOY! I thought wildly. There was hope, at least! I'd been searching for the perfect guy. Now if only this schmo didn't have a head full of rocks, it would be perfect… I decided to take my break early, even though there was only one measly idiot working tables. I'd worked there for YEARS. YEARS. And I never got any thanks, so I always did little things to get even, such as stealing money, harassing the customers, and taking three hour breaks.

"Hey, whaddaya say I buy you some drinks?" I inquired sneakily.

He looked satisfied with that question, giving me a sardonic grin. Young kids always appreciated when I bought them drinks. "So, I work at the art institute, it's such a crap place, but they really value me and I put on these really great productions. I'm always sure to cast myself in a lead role because those little JERKS need to learn! I hate this town! Too much sand! And what's up with me being like, the only Jewish person? I swear, Mother brought me up here to punish me! I'm always looked at as a freak because of my ACCENT, it's like no one's heard of NEW YORK!" Actually, I hadn't heard of it either, only glorious rumors. "And what's up with the weather? Every day, the same thing! And the damned market—it's so expensive. I'm very fed up with all of it. A man can't live on melons, fish and jewelry, for goddsake! This is a changing world and I don't appreciate the fact that Agrabah can't get with the times!"

The guy must have been really interested because he was staring into his glass and keeping quiet. I talked on about other subjects, and things I hated. About an hour later, I asked him for his name and what he did.

"My name… is Jafar," he said with slow, dramatic emphasis, "and I am a painter. So sorry I haven't run into you at the academy… it's… where… I … do my work."

"Ah," I said, a bit disgruntled. If anything, I'd figured he did clay—those long, thin, fingers- YEAH! But painting? Painters were all a bunch of incredibly prissy, moody schmucks. I was slightly disappointed, but I tried to keep an open mind. "Well, but that's good. Means we'll run into each other again."

"Forgive me, my humble friend," Jafar said, slurring his speech a bit. "I am torn up… inside, due to highly vexing familial issues."

What a snob! But, truthfully, it kinda turned me on. At least he had something to say—didn't just sit there like a doodlepop. I sighed loudly. "What is it, money?"

"Actually, mmyes," he nodded. "But it's…" he narrowed his eyes. "Much more serious than that."

"TRY ME!" I basically yelled. I love gossip and drama, and horrible things that happen to people.

His thin, dark eyebrows went up and he suddenly looked so mysterious and angry that I wanted to hold him! GOD! "My parents are old money… and they would cut their ties with me… and cut me off from the fortune… if I told them my secret."

"Well, what is it, then?" I don't like waiting. Not at all! Nope!

His mouth twisted into a depressed sort of smile. "They want me to marry a woman… and though I find women somewhat desirable…" (I cringed dramatically) …"my real desires are elsewhere."

"YAHOO!" I screamed. It was just nice to know I sort of had a chance. It didn't really happen often, if you can believe it!