A/N: Song is 'The Touchtone Genius', and credit obviously goes to Andrew of STWPT.

Just take out the spaces if you want to hear it (free and legal, guys): www . songstowearpantsto . com / songs / the - touchtone - genius /

Zexion was tired. Zexion was, frankly, tired as shit, and Zexion knew that didn't make any sense because shit was an inanimate object and couldn't get tired, and he knew that swear words were a crutch for the weak-minded. But Zexion had been up for forty consecutive hours at the hospital trying to impress Dr. Xemnas and Dr. Vexen and the same time and doing all the things good interns do, and resultantly Zexion was tired as shit and if anybody dared argue otherwise they would find themselves destitute of both kidneys.

So when he'd finally gotten home that night, he'd made straight for his one-room apartment (two if you counted the bathroom) and collapsed on the bed. He figured he'd just wait for a little while, maybe half an hour, then he'd be able to take off his shoes and get into pajamas.

It was such a nice bed. It was, Zexion mused, quite pleasantly bed-shaped, and had blankets. It had pillows, too, which were like tiny little beds for his head, and most importantly: it was completely, irrefutably and inarguably horizontal, and didn't need its temperature taken.

Yes, thought Zexion as he gave up telling himself to get under the covers, or at least get into just boxers instead of falling asleep in Crocs and scrubs, it was a very nice bed when it came to sleeping.

XXX

And that very same night, two people approximately the age of our dear hero, both inexplicably attending the same liberal arts college in the area, were having a very interesting conversation.

"Of course I remember him! He was that weird kid in my homeroom class who dyed his hair blue!"

"Yeah! And he's in the phone book, man! This is an opportunity waiting to be had."

"But we were only friends for like the last three months of high school. Barely."

"So? It'll be hilarious! C'mon, call him! Do that thing you do!"

"What?"

"You know, that phone call thing with the keypad."

"…oh, that thing."

"Yeah."

"Actually, that would be awesome. I've always wanted to try it on a guy like him."

"Exactly! Now stop wasting your musical genius and dial that number!"

At three in the morning, the ominous sounds of a touchtone began to echo in the dorm.

XXX

Across the town, Zexion was snoring faintly but peacefully in his dark, damp, quite-possibly-cockroach-infested room. He wasn't dreaming, but he was smiling serenely and occasionally twitching or kicking the foot of the bed, as he tended to do.

And then the blasted phone rang.

"Mmm," he groaned, turning his head to bury it in his pillow. It smelled deliciously like lavender, and did wonders calming him down.

But then the phone had to ring again.

"Nnn!" came the grouse as he pounded the bed with his fist. Sitting up, he coughed, smacking his mouth in an attempt to alleviate the disgusting fuzziness he felt after forgetting to brush his teeth that night. He glared at the phone.

Briiiiiiiiing!

"You filthy bastard," he hissed, picking up the receiver. "Hello…?" came the sleepy voice.

"Hello! I am the Touchtone Genius, master of voices!" came the voice on the other line. Zexion, in all his exhausted glory, still noticed how it was quite nasal, and couldn't possibly be somebody's real voice. But he was too tired to care (in fact, he was too tired to realize he'd actually bothered to answer the phone instead of just unplugging it.)

"W-wha-"

"I'm sorry for waking you, so early in the morning, but it's very urgent I play you something, you see-"

"What is this? ...Xigbar?"

"The police are looking for me," the voice added in a conspiratorial whisper.

"What?" Zexion said, quite forgetting how tired he was.

But then he heard something like what could only be the keypad of a phone, if the beeps were anything to go by. But the bleeps were organized. This was the strangest prank he'd ever heard, because now the caller was playing a cheerful melodic tune with what sounded like the touchtone –

Oh. 'Touchtone Genius'. He got it. Haha.

And then the voice cut in, over the tune, with what sounded an awful lot to Zexion like a nasal voice trying to imitate a deep baritone and improvising at the same time.

"Hello?"

"I am so rich! I have won the lottery—" it came, like some horrible rendition of opera.

"What is this?!"

There was the sound of a clearing throat. "And then the guy goes:" and now Zexion's prankster picked up the pace of the touchtone, almost impressively so, beeping out a slightly more fast-paced tune.

In that same baritone; "I'm going to bu—y a sports car!"

The caller took on a high, feminine soprano. "You must buy me a fu—r coa—t!"

Male again. "I'm going to purchase the fastest sports car!"

Female. "You idiot buy me a diamond ri----ng!"

"Wow," Zexion commented, mentally comparing the touchtone to the repetitive undertones of Mozart. "This is…ridiculous, but…"

And now he was changing voices every second, with that same incessant touchtone tune in the background. "A sports car! Ri—ng! A sports car! Ri---ng! A sports car! Ri-------ing!"

"This could be the best prank call I've ever received."

"Hoo-hoo-ha-ha-ooh-ooh-ah-ah-hoo-ha-ha!" His prankster seemed to have foregone words for simple opera-esque syllables. But something in Zexion's tired, deranged mind was amazed than anyone could do this with a telephone keypad. It was significantly better than any current boy bands he knew of.

"Oh, bravo!"

And coming to the third act, the Touchtone Genius went mad. Notes flew out of Zexion's receiver like bullets, like the previous tune sped up by a hundred times and he could see the caller's fingers working like blurs over the keys.

This act seemed purely instrumental, and was most sincerely impressive to him.

"I'm, I'm in awe-"

"Your mom is fat!"

"Wha-!"

And with a few final, tuneful punches of the touchtone, silence on the other end. Any stranger would have thought the call had ended.

But the Touchtone Genius had made one fatal mistake. He'd forgotten to change his voice at the last second, and hell if even a sleep-deprived, angry, partially delusional surgery intern Zexion didn't recognize that voice on the phone.

"Demyx," he hissed. "You worthless bastard."

Silence.

"I know Axel's there too."

But by the time the peals of donkey-bray laughter that had exploded from the two on the other end of the phone died out and there were anxious calls of "so hey, Zexy, how've you been? I was thinking we should get – Zexion?" were being crackled through the receiver, Zexion had fallen asleep with the grin of a madman on his face.

Because Zexion had caller ID.

Zexion had a phone book with addresses.

And Zexion knew where that worthless bastard was ticklish.

A/N: Okay, you know what? Maybe it's not the best thing I've ever written. Okay, maybe it's just bad, but it was really funny in my head, and I had to write it down before it kept circulating and kicking out all my good ideas. So, I dunno...if you giggled and/or snorted, say so? Or if you read it and kept thinking 'what the heck, this isn't funny, it's just like this sad facsimile of funny that dresses like funny but doesn't really have the figure for the kind of clothing funny wears and so just ends up looking sad and pitiful', say that too.