Author's Note: WHAT THE HECK!? I TOLD YOU NOT TO READ THIS STORY BECAUSE I KNOW THAT YOU WON'T LIKE IT!!!!!!!! THE ONLY REASON I POSTED THIS STORY IS BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE FUN TO WRITE AN AU STORY THAT EVERYBODY WOULD HATE AND INSTEAD OF PROMOTING THE STORY, I WOULD TELL EVERYBODY NOT TO READ IT!!!!! JUST TO DETOUR YOU FROM READING ANY FURTHER, HERE'S THE ENTIRE SUMMARY!!!!!!!
Summary: After Zazaic Industries causes an oil spill, Zile needs some good publicity. Releasing a new car was out, seeing as how the Eco-Activists are protesting his company more than ever. He decides to go with something a little more... humane. Why not try fostering a kid? That ought to get him some good publicity. Well, in case you were wondering, the unlucky child that gets Zile as his new foster-father just happens to be Speed.
Author's Note (continued): THERE! NOW DO YOU SEE WHY YOU WOULD HATE THIS STORY?! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE FLAME ME FOR THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!! FLAME ME, FLAME ME, FLAME ME, FLAME ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FLAME ME FOR POSTING A STORY THAT EVERYBODY WOULD HATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FLAME ME FOR SOMETHING, JUST FLAME ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU SHOULD JUST HIT THE 'BACK' BUTTON RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DON'T EVEN READ THIS STORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TRUST ME, YOU'LL HATE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TURN BACK, NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Disclaimer: even though everybody will hate this story, I still have to put one of these in here. I don't own Speed Racer: The Next Generation. If I did, the rest of the people that work on the show would have never let me even THINK of this. I do, however, own Jedediah "Jed" Stroke (you don't know who he is, then read Hope and Suffering instead of this story. H&S has nothing to do with this, so READ THAT INSTEAD). I also don't own any of the shows I've made fun of here.
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I got out of the car. Jed, both a social worker and a friend of mine, followed behind. A man in a black suit and a teenage girl in a skimpy red dress were standing outside. The man looked to be about sixty-four, his hair was completely gray, and he was talking to various members of the press. The girl had blonde hair, and looked to be around seventeen. She looked like she didn't give a flip about what was going on around her. Why should she? The man said something to a reporter.
"Of course I'm not. I had this in the works long before the oil spill. This is no scam to gain good publicity." He said. The reporter looked skeptic, but she wrote what he said down in her notebook anyway. I knew who this man was. He was Zile Zazaic, a world renowned oilman and car builder. He'd had some bad publicity lately; one of his oil tankers recently had an oil spill near Antarctica, one of the largest in history. It was all over the news. A group of people who call themselves the Eco-Activists (creative, original, and they give me good reason to be sarcastic.) have been protesting Zazaic Industries since it first opened its doors, and now they're bombarding his company, and anything that has to do with it, including Racing Academy and about twenty-three publishing companies.
"Ah, you must be Speed!" Zile said as he finally took notice of me. He turned to Jed. "And you are Mr. Stroke. It is a pleasure to meet you both. Come in, come in." He waved us into his five story mansion with a smile that was obviously fake. We walked past a huge bald man wearing a green suit.
"Sorry, no reporters are allowed inside. A few trade secrets are kept here that we don't want getting out." He said to the reporters.
"Not to worry, I will answer all of your questions in one hour." Zile said to the disappointed paparazzi. "Come, Stan." He said to the big bald guy.
"Daddy, do I have to stay here? I've got to go meet X at the movies in ten minutes!" The girl whined.
"Of course, Annalise, you can go meet your boyfriend at the movie theatre. But don't get all handsy with him!" He said to his daughter. She gladly left. We kept walking. Jed and I kept a pace about five feet behind Zile.
"He bribed you not to say anything to the press." I whispered to Jed. I knew that the only reason that Zile had even thought about becoming a foster father was to gain good publicity after the oil spill.
"No. Why would he do that?" He whispered back. I knew that he was lying. I could see the check sticking out from his pocket, along with a hundred dollar bill.
"Hey, I just wanted to say, thanks for everything." I said. Even though Jedediah Stroke had accepted bribes from a man who obviously cared only for himself, he was still my friend, and I owed it to him. Out of all the kids he tried to place in good foster homes, I was probably the hardest to get anywhere. He worked too hard, and he might have actually needed the money for something.
"You're welcome." He said. He knew just as well as I did that this man couldn't afford to cancel his foster father status, lest he receive even more bad publicity that he already has. This may very well be my last stop. We stopped at what looked like a huge living room. "Speed, Mr. Zazaic and I have very important matters to discuss."
"Stan, please show Speed to his room." Zile said. Stan nodded and continued to walk in front of me. I cautiously followed the man. He led me up a few flights of stairs, and down a long hallway that was furnished with red carpets, chandeliers, and a few priceless works of art. The mansion was bigger than it looked, and it looked pretty big to begin with. I wondered how I was ever going to remember how to get anywhere in this place, or manage to not break anything. I felt too scared to even breathe around half this stuff. Who would want to live in a house that you can't enjoy?
Finally, Stan stopped, and opened a door. It led to a fairly large room. Well, it was larger than any room I've ever been in, and that's a lot of rooms. The bed alone seemed larger than my old room at the orphanage. I was so shocked at how large the room was that I almost dropped my bag.
"Sorry we couldn't find any bigger bedrooms." Stan said apologetically. It seemed like he actually meant it, like he wasn't running on a script. The moment of realism didn't last long, though, and Stan left before I could even say anything.
Like in the hallway, everything in here seemed too fancy to touch. It wasn't as elaborate as the hallway, but it still felt a little too extravagant for my taste. I set my bag down the bed and started to take everything in. The walls were painted a soft red. The closet was huge, big enough to be a room all by itself. The room was lit by a chandelier. And for the first time, I had a TV in my room, which was really cool.
A few minutes later, Zile walked in.
"I'm sure you've heard about the oil spill." He said firmly.
"Yes, sir." I said, trying to be as polite as possible.
"Well, that oil spill is the only reason why you're here, and if you so much as think about selling stories about me and my family to the press, talk bad about anyone from the Zazaic bloodline, or do anything whatsoever to make me look bad, I will make sure that you don't live past your seventeenth birthday." He narrowed his eyes at me. I could tell that he was dead serious. "Are. We. Clear?" He asked through clenched teeth.
"Yes, sir." I said.
"Good." He said. "I strongly suggest that you don't unpack just yet. I am going to go outside and pretend to let the paparazzi convince me to let them in under strict supervision. They are going to come up here, see what a wonderful life I have planned for you now that I am your legal guardian, I'll give some sappy speech about how I only wish that every orphan's story could have a happy ending or some such nonsense, and then they'll leave. During the time that they are here, you will not speak unless spoken to, you will not bring up the oil spill, and you will do nothing whatsoever to make me look bad." He paused.
"Yes, sir." I said.
"Once they're gone, you will be escorted to your real room. This room, along with every other room on this floor, is reserved for guests and guests alone. And you are most certainly not our guest." He said. I nodded solemnly. He left. Jed walked in soon after.
"This guy's a jerk, but I don't think that he'll hurt you. You wouldn't let him get away with something like that, would you?" He asked.
"No, I wouldn't." I said, knowing that Zile probably would hurt me.
"I really don't think that he will
"Hey, I wanted to give you something." Jed said. "Just to say good luck." He pulled out a hundred dollar bill and handed it to me.
"Wow. Thank you." Was all that I could say. The hundred dollar bill was more than any amount of money I'd ever had in my life. I put the bill into my pocket.
"You're welcome. And I really think that this might be your last stop. There's a chance that he might want to make this permanent." He said, hopefully. But I knew that the only way this man would adopt me would be if the press pushed him to do so. Jed and I said our goodbyes, and then he left. Soon after that, Zile and Stan walked in, playing the paparazzi like a violin. Zile was full of pride, but he made it look like it was compassion. He cared only about himself and 'the Zazaic bloodline', but he made it look like he was a humanitarian. As instructed, I didn't make a peep as Zile droned on and on about how much of a 'better life' I was going to have now, and how 'happy he was to have the opportunity to do something like this'. Finally, Zile and the press left, leaving Stan to show me to my real room. After walking up a few more flights of stairs, and down three more hallways, we arrived at a much smaller room than the one I was just in, although it was still pretty big. It was about the same size as the previous room's closet. The walls were painted denim blue, and I still had a TV in my room. This time, Stan said that dinner would be in the dining hall around six, and then left. As I unpacked, only one stupid thought meandered its way through my mind.
How the heck was I supposed to find a dining hall in a house that was big enough to have its own area code, and probably did?
Can you believe that? Not "Oh my gosh, this guy might kill me", I wasn't concerned about that. I was focused on freaking dinner. I sighed. I guess it wasn't so bad that I wasn't focused on the death threats Zile had thrown at me. Being focused on the negative clouds the mind, and inhibits one's actions.
Once I finished unpacking, I decided to watch TV, to get my mind off things. It was only three o'clock, so I still had time before dinner. The first channel that I flipped to was the news.
"...After a recent oil spill, Zile Zazaic, C.E.O. of Zazaic Industries has become a foster parent..."
Next was a talk show.
"...Well, I personally don't think that Zile had considered taking legal custody of..."
Was there anything on that wasn't about me? I changed the channel.
"...In other news, Zile Zazaic has recently added foster parent to the list of things that he is..."
Apparently not. The next channel was yet another news channel.
"... The child in question is a sixteen year old boy who's name is Speed..."
Really, I didn't need this. I changed the channel
"...But Macy, I love you!"
"Oh, John, I love you, too! But, it's my half brother... he hates you!"
"That's not important to me..."
Stupid soap operas. I flipped the channel again.
"...I never thought that it'd be so simple but, I find a way, I find a way. If you open up your eyes..."
Why the heck would anyone watch a show about two brothers?
"...Coming up, can the world's number one environmental threat foster a..."
Once again, I REALLY didn't need that!!!
"¡Pero, Paloma, te amo!"
"¡Ay, Javier, te amo también! Pero, es mi medio hermano... no le caí bien tu."
"No me importa..."
Soap operas were better in Spanish*, but only because unilingual English speakers couldn't understand what was going on.
"We got to live to party! Bust your move! Everybody's in the groove!..."
Okay, that's worse than the soap opera. I changed the channel quickly.
"You take the moon, and you take the sun! You take everything that seems like fun! You stir..."
And that is worse than the Jonas Brothers.
"From my head to my toes..."
A show about clothes is worse than an animated cooking show.
"Here he comes, here comes Reed Spacer! He's a demon on wheels! He's a demon and he's gonna be chasing after someone!..."
I actually liked this show, and even though it rarely came on anymore, I decided to see what else was on. I finally settled for a movie playing on ABC family.
*****
At about five thirty, I decided to try to find the dining hall. I decided to look on the ground floor first. I was on the fourth floor, so that meant I had to walk down three flights of stairs. Oh, joy, I thought sarcastically.
I got lost a few times, but after twenty-five minutes, I finally made it to the ground floor. More specifically, I found the front door.
Annalise was just coming back from her date. She and her boyfriend were standing in the doorway. Her boyfriend was wearing a gray A-shirt and jeans. He had a large 'X' tattoo on his right arm. I mentally slapped myself. Duh!!! Of course when Annalise said 'X' she meant X Racer! Who else would a girl like Annalise be interested in? She took notice of me, and released herself from X's embrace.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, glaring at me.
"I was just..." I started.
"Annalise, it's cool. What's your name? I'm X, in case you didn't know." X said, extending out his arm.
"I'm Speed." I shook his hand.
"See? We're all friends here." He said to his girlfriend. He turned back to me. "Interesting name. I'd accuse you of kidding around, but it's probably a nickname, and even if it's not, hey, my first name is a letter, and my last name is what I want to be when I grow up, so I know where you're coming from." He turned back to Annalise. "Annalise, I've got to go. I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon?"
"Yes, you big dork!" She said playfully. They kissed, and X left. Annalise continued to glare at me.
"Way to go, Speed Bump! You could have ruined that!" She yelled.
"Like I was supposed to know you'd be making out with your boyfriend in the doorway." I retorted. She huffed and turned away from me, heading towards what I hoped was the dining hall. I was starving, and it was almost six.
Lucky for me, Annalise was going towards the dining hall, and as an added bonus, she didn't complain to her father about me. In fact, she didn't speak at all. No one did. We simply ate. Zile did his best to make it look like an awkward silence because the press was outside, writing down everything that happened down in their notes. At this point, I figured their notes looked something like:
Zile took bite of chicken.
Annalise sipped tea.
Speed was disgusted by the escargot.
Annalise took small bite of small salad.
Speed skipped escargot and went on to now cold chicken.
Zile opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it.(fake; he just wanted it to look like he was curious about my past)
Zile took another bite of chicken.
Zile sipped wine in incredibly small amounts.(also fake, but he did a very good job of making it look like he didn't feel comfortable drinking in front of minors)
Annalise took another sip of tea.
Zile called in waiter.
Waiter took glass of wine from Zile, returned with glass of water.(that was also fake; you could tell that he really wanted to finish the wine)
After dinner, everybody went their separate ways. Nobody gave me directions back to my room, and it was well past midnight when I finally found it. I still had clothes to unpack, but that could wait. I wanted this day to be over with as soon as possible. I flopped down onto the queen sized bed and was asleep by the time I made contact with the mattress.
Author's note: Well, now that you know what you're flaming, maybe now you can flame more accurately.
As for the Speed Racer theme song (with Speed Racer changed to Reed Spacer), I just HAD TO!!! It was CALLING OUT TO ME!!!
*Now, on to Spanish-English translations:
"¡Pero, Paloma, te amo!" = But, Dove, I love you!
"¡Ay, Javier, te amo también! Pero, es mi medio hermano... no le caí bien tu." = Oh, Xavier, I love you too! But, it is my half brother... he doesn't like you.
"No me importa..." = that is not important to me.
Yep, it's the same thing as the English soap opera, only in Spanish!!! YOU CAN FLAME ME FOR THAT, TOO!!!