Disclaimer: If I owned Beyblade… well, I don't sadly. It's a fact that will most likely never change. This is the last of the stories that belong to glitteredvixon06.

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Title: The Kuznetsov Chronicles


Genre: Humour/Parody


Rating: T


Summary: What happens when Boris orders Bryan to keep a diary about his fellow bladers? This story.


Warnings: Yaoi, yuri, het, swearing, ninjas, mops, vampires, eyebrow talk, lemons, Santa Claus dress-ups, karaoke, Garland's smoothies…basically pure randomness. Don't say you haven't been warned. Proceed with caution.

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Chapter One: Atheism is a Non-Prophet Organization

"Bryan, as head of the Student Representative Council, I want you to keep a record of your fellow bladers in a diary," said Boris, peering at from across his rather large desk.

Remind me why I'm head of the Student Representative Council? Oh, that's right. I wanted those extra brownie points to go on my job resume. Makes me look good. "A diary? Don't you mean organizer?" I mean seriously, a diary? That's what girls use!

Boris shook his head. "No Bryan, they're the same things."

I don't think he quite understands. Let me try again. I shook my head. "Only girls use diaries, Boris," I inform him. Maybe he doesn't know what a girl is? I mean, based on his sanity levels, I wouldn't be surprised. "Let's face is Boris, only girls, and Oliver, use diaries. Real men use organizers," I proudly declared. Let's see how he handles that brilliant piece of wisdom.

Boris simply shook his head again. I don't think he's too impressed with my knowledge. He's probably already regretting delegating this task to me. "In case you haven't noticed Boris, I am a man, a real man," I added. Well, that was kinda dumb. Of course I'm a real man. I'm not a hermaphrodite. And I never had a sex change. So therefore I am a real man. Okay, going to stop rambling now, he's talking again.

"I realize that Bryan," he replied bluntly.

What? That's it? Nothing else? No, 'are you sure about that, Bryan?'. Wait a minute. Am I questioning my own masculinity? Didn't I just tell myself that I am in fact a real man? …I'm
not going to answer that question. "So…" I start, puffing out my chest to make up for my lack of manliness. "What do I have to do?" I'm sure he has already told me but I'm still getting over the whole diary incident.

Boris looks at me strangely. Whether it's at my manliness or my question I do not know. "As part of the council project, you are to keep tabs on your fellow bladers and record any interesting events that take place," he explained, suddenly sounding weary. "I expect detailed notes, Bryan."

"Detailed?" I asked, confused. So if someone, let's say Kai, decides to take a shit in the toilets, I'm meant to record this? What would I write? '6:34 PM, Thursday, July 2009 – Kai locks himself in toilet and shits.' Well, that certainly sounds appealing. Not. It sounds dirty. Speaking of dirty, would you like to hear a very dirty joke? (silence) I'm sure you do, here it goes. (silence) The boy fell in the mud. (cricket silence) Why aren't you laughing?

Boris coughed into his hands. I think he should have a cough drop. I'd offer him one…if I had any. Ah well, at least he had the decency to cough into his hands. "Could we please stay on topic, Bryan?"

Did I just speak my joke out aloud or did he just read my mind? I'm going to go with the latter. It sounds more plausible. I wouldn't put it past him. I'm going to have to be more careful around Boris now that he can read minds. Wait… if he could read minds then why are we having this conversation? Okay…maybe I did just speak aloud? "Erm…" Think brain! Think of something to say! "Me listening," I reply. I mentally slap myself in the forehead. Nice one Spartacus! Way to make a douche bag of yourself!

"You are to report to me your observations at the end of each week. If you have any questions, ask now."

"How detailed do I need to be and what do I cover? Second question first," I added, blinking furiously. Stupid eyelash just fell into my eye! How unlucky is that? Better get it out fast.

"Please cover something more than sex. Frankly, I'm not interested in your sex lives," said Boris, sighing. That's okay, I don't have a sex life. "Sex, sex and sex, that's all you teenagers seem to do. Why…back in my day…" Oh god, here we go.

"Um, sir?" I blinked, three times. The extra two times were to get rid of that stupid eyelash plaguing my left eye. Don't you just hate that when that happens? When an eyelash falls into your eye randomly, out of the blue and you're having an important discussion trying to be normal and all but that eyelash causes you to blink so much you look like an idiot? Wow…that was a very long sentence.

"…we used to grow hair on our backs to keep us warm during those cold, winter months…"

That I did not need to know. Thanks for implanting disturbing mental images in my head Boris.

"…then, on the last day of winter, we would get together and have mass shaving celebrations…"

I certainly did not need to know that piece of information. Great. Now I won't be getting any sleep tonight. Not that I do, with all that moaning, groaning and all those other verbs ending in 'ing', happing next door. Speaking of moaning, well actually, thinking of moaning, I really need to discover the source of all that noise. I thought Spencer's snoring was bad, but that moaning really makes it hard to sleep.

"And when I say shaving, I mean shaving all our bodies. Head hair, eyebrow hair, nose hair, chest hair, arm hair, leg hair, pubic hair…"

ARGH! Cough. Splutter. Choke. Cough. I DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT! God…I always knew something was strange about Boris. And now, I know. Unfortunately. God, I think I'm going to be sick. Wait, why am I talking about God? I'm not religious. I belong to a non-prophet organization called atheism.

"Oh yes, that reminds me. Miss Judy Tate will be presenting a sex-ed talk to you bladers tomorrow," he laughed at the thought. "Well, Mrs. Tate."

My eyes widened in shock and I swear my heart just skipped a beat. "Mrs. Tate?" Did she remarry her ex-husband? What's his face, Trevor? I don't know… Max never told anyone his fathers' name. But I do think Trevor is quite fitting don't you agree? So Trevor it is.

"Judy and I are getting married," he stated calmly.

"WHAT?!!!" I shrieked, almost falling out of my chair in shock. I don't know what's more disturbing - Boris participating in mass pubic hair shaving celebrations or Boris marrying someone who is thirty years younger than him? I suppose it wouldn't be out of place and all, it's quite common these days. To marry someone thirty years younger than yourself that is, not mass pubic hair shaving celebrations. That would just be wrong. Thinking of marriage, I just hope they don't try for a child. I mean…ew…bad thoughts Bryan, bad bad thoughts.

"Congratulations, Sir!" I exclaimed, regaining my composure. "Well done." I forced a happy smile. Smiling doesn't come naturally to me like smirking and sneering does.

"Thank you, Bryan. Ah…now where was I?" he asked himself. "Oh yes, your dia-"

That's it. No more mister nice-guy. I stood up from my chair. "IT'S A FUCKING GODDAMN FUCKING ORGANIZER!" I screamed. Quite loudly in fact. I'm sure Boris was quite surprised by my sudden outburst of anger. I know I was. I'm usually very quiet. Unless I'm angry. Then I'm loud. I mean, you can't smash things quietly can you?

Boris raised a purple eyebrow. "Finished Bryan?" he didn't seem as surprised as I thought he'd be. I guess he's gotten used to my random outbursts of anger.

I nodded and sat back down. "Yes Boris." Who the hell has purple eyebrows anyway? Why not go for something more masculine? Like…erm…orange or something. Oh, I don't know. Anything but purple. Or pink. I don't like pink. Anyhow, pink is Mariah's colour just like wearing disco pants is Tala's thing and pimp pants are Kai's. Did that make any sense? No? Yes? Does anyone really care? You know what? Maybe I'll just stop rambling now. Yeah. Sounds like a good idea.

Boris pointed at the door. "You can go now, Bryan."

I nodded, stood up and walked out the door.

…

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