Disclaimer: Here's a random fact: Margaret Thatcher. Here's another random fact: I don't own Prince of Tennis, or any of the characters. :)
Rating: PG for… what? For theology? o.0 I don't know…
Warnings: Shounen-ai/yaoi, Niou, surrealism
Summary: Surrealist essays are a good way for the teacher to avoid serious marking. They are also a good way of melting Sanada's brain into indescribable goo.
Author's notes: Another Rikkai drabblething. You don't have to have read the ones that come before this, but it might help a bit. The full list can be found on my profile.The latest ten drabblethings are:
The Hottest Fire
The Name's Metaphor. Blatant Metaphor.
Cirque du Rikkai
Guess Who Fate Doesn't Like Much?
Eep, Crayons, and Parrots with Problems
The Waiting Camel
Operation: Gentleman Hunt
A Little Autumn Tale
Cases in Point
The Theology of Scarves
'A Little Autumn Tale' still doesn't exist. I still hate plots. And so, here is more from my crack bunnies Deb and Dave. Those are only their stage names, don't worry; their real names are long and complicated and have far too few vowels for comfort.
Enjoy the randomness. –Bows-
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"My literature teacher," said Marui as he and Yukimura sat down at the lunch table, "is crazy."
Jackal swallowed his mouthful of chocolate with difficulty (thankfully, Marui wasn't currently so sugar-deprived as to try and retrieve it). "Oh?"
"Yeah. She set us some work to do on surrealism or something, and the homework was to write a surreal-style essay or story. Or combination, because surrealism is like that. And everyone knows that that's a piece of cake, because you just write complete rambling nonsense, right? But she marked them and gave them back today and I got four out of twenty, and Mura got frickin' nineteen! And he only lost that one mark because he didn't title it," Marui complained, waving the piece of paper he was holding all over the place and nearly taking out several people's eyes.
"Are you sure it wasn't just because yours wasn't very good?" asked Jackal supportively.
"Our literature teacher is a little crazy," Yukimura chipped in before Marui could rant their ears off. "I think the only reason I got such high marks was because I picked scarves as a topic subject. She has a thing for scarves. Which is of course why I chose it."
"The theology of scarves," Marui muttered. "There can't be many things stranger to write about."
"It was quite fun. You didn't like doing the homework?"
Marui snorted. "No. It was, in the words of Akaya, 'so much stupidity in one place that I think my brain's being spoiled'. I mean, you know, randomness yay, but this was just… ridiculous. It was forced randomness. It didn't work."
"Maybe yours made too much sense?" Jackal suggested. "Here, let me read it."
"Sure." Marui handed it over. Jackal read it quietly for a few minutes – Yukimura and Marui used the opportunity to start eating their lunch.
When he'd finished, Jackal handed it back and said, "Yeah, I think that's it. It does kind of make sense. It's not quite surreal enough."
"Which is exactly why surrealism is so stupid!" Marui exclaimed loudly, brandishing his chopsticks.
"Ow! Marui Bunta, keep your chopsticks down!" barked Sanada, rubbing his eye. "You could have blinded me!"
"Half blinded, in any case. Which might be a good thing; you know what they say about half-blind men," drawled Niou. He used his knee to kick Marui along the bench so he could sit down next to him opposite Yukimura. "Yo."
"Hey." Yukimura nodded round at the newcomers to the table. "Where's Yagyuu today?"
"He's in the languages department," answered Yanagi, slotting himself neatly in between Sanada and Jackal.
"Oh?"
"Mm hm. I believe he's completing the task commonly known as 'picking up after the Trickster'," said Yanagi dryly with a sidelong glance to Niou.
Marui snickered. "What'd you do now, 'Haru?"
"Nothing."
"Ok. Now, what did you really do?"
"Nothing, sugar freak."
"Which is exactly the problem," said Yanagi. "He watched quite cheerfully as the visiting schoolchildren from junior school got trapped in the resources cupboard. He didn't alert a teacher or even an upperclassman. Still, I suppose he didn't contribute to their plight in any way, hmm?"
"So why's Yagyuu taking the blow for this?" Jackal asked.
"He told the teacher who finally rescued the children that it was his fault for not going to check on Niou earlier. Seeing as half their shared teachers have designated Yagyuu Niou's childminder."
"Not childminder, watchdog," Niou protested. He was ignored.
Marui raised his eyebrows. "And the teacher believed that? And punished Yagyuu for it?!"
"Mm hm."
"Such is life," sighed Niou mock-dramatically. "I'd feel bad, but it's his own fault for volunteering himself. I guess I'll let him talk to me about the latest design of golf stick, or whatever next time I see him."
"Golf club," Yanagi corrected.
"Stick."
"That reminds me," Marui said. "Fukubuchou, you have to read Mura's surrealism essay thingy. It's the craziest thing that ever got nineteen out of twenty."
"One mark lost for not titling it," Jackal added.
Sanada eyed the piece of paper that Marui had snatched from Yukimura and was now waving in his face like a cat might eye something far bigger and stronger than itself. "Do I have to? I don't generally enjoy reading 'crazy things'."
"It might broaden your horizons," Yukimura said, looking up from his lunch for the first time (he was a quiet luncher). "You may discover something about yourself."
"Really?" Niou looked slightly interested now.
"Well, no. But it's worth reading anyway." Yukimura had one of those airs about him (it was always an air, never a look or expression – he was far too good at hiding those, even from Niou) that exuded good-natured encouragement. With not a trace of minor sadism. Well, very little. Barely enough to fill a teaspoon with, certainly. Or a bowl for definite, at least…
"Well," said Sanada reluctantly, "I suppose it won't hurt." He took the paper carefully from Marui and started to read, trying to ignore Niou and Yanagi (and Jackal too, somehow) as they read over his shoulders.
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This is not an essay. In the direct sense of the word. Or is it?
No. It isn't. So decrees the scarf on the windowsill. It sits so peacefully like a drowsy bird. Perhaps it knows the truth. Perhaps we should ask it. Certainly, we have much to learn from such a beautiful pile of wool and thread. Sometimes, there is a sequin. But only on Sundays, because this is a special day.
But scarves are not, by nature, religious.
Or are they?
No. They are not. Hooray. Scarves possess only enlightenment, which defies the human need for religion. They do not need to believe in a God, or in the teachings of Buddha-sama – no, they do not, because they Know. They Know that there is a God, that the teachings of Buddha-sama are correct. They Know that the devil is a righteous man. They Know that Allah is watching over them, as is the Prophet Mohammed. All of this is true. Even the bits that completely refute and contradict the others.
How is this so?
The scarves Know. But look – now it speaks! And speak it does, and shall, and will, and might.
"Woof," says the scarf.
Never have we heard more truth than this. Such wonder, such magical mysticism as never before. Do we fall to our knees? Do we bow to this supreme understanding? No, we do not, for we are unhumbled and smote by human greed. We cannot hear the teachings of the scarf. We can never truly know what they Know. Unless, of course, we cut off our Religion. This is only a pretentious metaphor, however, and so is impossible.
But let our mere mortal minds not dwell on the scarf. Not this scarf.
Maybe that scarf over there, though, because it has tassels. Or does it?
Yes. Because today is a special day. Even more special than Sunday.
Not really, though.
Or is it…?
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"… Holy freaking hell," said Niou.
"That was certainly… surreal," said Yanagi faintly. He took the essay out of Sanada's hands. The taller boy's fingers didn't move once the paper had gone.
"I think you sent fukubuchou into shock," said Marui, a mischievous grin on his face. "Look at his face."
Sanada had the same curiously blank expression on that he always did when Akaya was explaining some ridiculous concept to him or to someone nearby. It usually passed, but there was a problem – usually, the expression could give way to annoyed yelling and issuing of laps, but because he couldn't (or rather, wouldn't) do such a thing to Yukimura, his brain had gone into underdrive, a lesser known/much more severe version of overdrive, in order to try and find an alternative plan of action.
"Yeah," Niou nodded like an expert, flicking Sanada's forehead casually. "You broke him. Can we get a new one?"
Marui burst out laughing and Jackal sniggered.
"He'll recover in a moment," said Yukimura, radiating modest satisfaction. "It does him good, you know." He went back to his lunch.
"Or does it?" smirked Niou.
Marui fell off the bench laughing.
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Sandy: Phnah. n.n
Feed me by giving me a review? (Not literally, though I do thank those kind people who offered me muffins and such. It's nice to know you care. xP) Questions, constructive criticism, comments, suggestions, theories, rambles… all are welcomed and loved. So drop me a review and encourage me…? I love to hear from you, I really do (I'll do my usual thank list next Drabblething, I promise; that'll include everyone who reviewed 'Cases in Point' too, since I haven't done a thank list for that yet).
Until next time!