Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
Authors note: A non betaed version of this fic first appeared in the DN Contest community over on LJ. A special thank you is in order to Dlvvanzor for their skills as a beta.
When I was moving my old stories from the old account, I somehow forgot this one! As far as I am aware there have been no changes made to it since it was first posted here in 2010. This one was ment to be crack.
Hell On Earth
Christians define Hell as a place of eternal damnation where the souls of unrepentant sinners are tortured.
Although Christian, I define Hell as three days of forced attendance at the local annual gamer convention.
Three days spent observing and being subjected to the lowest forms of life. Three days of geeks, and not just any geeks, no- hardcore, not bathing, cosplaying, gamergeeks. Three days of an orgy of record-breaking bragging, of fangirls and fanboys squealing in a cruel mockery of orgasmic delight at new and old long-sought merchandise. Seventy-two long hours of silent prayers that began while waiting in line for registration.
Lord, I'm sorry that I stole.
Lord, I'm sorry that I'm a murderer.
Lord, I'm sorry that I've become consumed by lust and stuck my dick into anything that breathes and remotely passes as human... And yes, Lord, I'm sorry for committing the sin of sodomy with a certain goggle and stripe-wearing brunet.
Fuck, Lord, I'm even sorry for all the times I beat the shit out of that albino twat when we were children...well not really, but still, Lord, save me this Hell.
One Our Father and two Hail Marys later, I sighed, resigning myself to my fate. Fuck, why did I have to agree to attend this lame-ass flake fest? Why did Matt have the ask me in the middle of one of few times the dipshit puts down the controller long enough to drop to his knees and prove what a talented mouth he has? Then, to add insult to injury, he had the bloody fucking balls to actually threaten me, saying that if I went back on my word my favorite body part would never again be graced with lips, tongue, or gentle nips. Matt and his damn sexual blackmail. Of course it worked.
"Ouch! You motherfucker!" I turned to glare at my brunet who, due to some sort of lapse of common sense, believed that the easiest way to get my attention was by delivering a swift slap to the back of my head.
"Mels, while you were standing there pondering the answer to life and the universe and everything, this fine young fellow had a question." His attempts at containing his laughter worried me as he motioned to a male perhaps a few years younger then us.
"Fuck me... shoot." An elbow to my ribs told me that Matt had heard the "before I shoot you" that I muttered under my breath.
"Well... I... I was wondering... shit this is awkward..." The telltale beginnings of pink were staining the boy's cheeks.
"Go on, my friend here gets asked this kind of thing all the time," Matt said, grinning.
Matt's shoulders were shaking from laughter. This only added to my sense of impending doom. Why did I get the sudden premonition that this weekend was going to end with shit being broken, bullet holes, and the possibility of a call to Agent Lidner in hopes of getting charges dropped? Or, at the very least, bailing me out?
"Well, I was wondering... how do you bind your chest? I mean, even in that vest you can't tell you're female."
Wait, what? My brain desperately tried to wrap itself around this notion. He thought I was a girl. Oh, this was going to be a very long weekend.
I only hoped that Matt had Lidner's number on speed dial.