I should so be working on other things right now but this idea just wouldn't leave me alone. Besides I need some kind of a pick me up and this just answered my prayers.

I suggest that no one take this seriously. Like at all. This is simply experimental for the moment as well as a comedy parody sort of deal.

I don't own Bleach, McDonald's, Honda or Sublime.

Enjoy.

Title: Neighbors from Hell

Characters: Ichigo, Hollow Ichigo, various others.

Genre: Comedy/Family

Pairings: None

Rating: T

Summary: After dropping out of community college Ichigo and his twin brother, Shiro, have nothing better but to go up from the downer that is called 'life'. Getting a job, buying a place. Cliche, normal stuff like that. Define normal.

Neighbors from Hell

It all started with college. Yeah college. Somewhere along the lines of growing up me and my twin brother got it into our heads that we should enroll and attempt to be serious with our lives.

Serious. Not.

Barely a week into our medical courses at the community college a half hour from our childhood home we dropped out.

So much for being adults and taking charge of our lives, but personally there was no way in hell a pair of grade-A slackers like ourselves were going to survive college. Me and Shiro would always be considered the idiot geniuses of middle school and highschool, both the type to easily understand the coursework but never able to get through the lesson without getting thrown out of the class for defying the person who taught it.

I personally can't remember how many times that's happened. And obviously college professers aren't as lax on that as highschool teachers are.

You live and learn I guess.

Anyway, you may be wondering where does that leave a pair of immature nineteen year olds with exceedingly high grades and test scores with a smear or two of unsavory behavior?

A minum wage job flipping burgers for a manager just as greasey and unpleasent as the radioactive crap we sell called 'food'.

Waste of potential? Yes.

Idiot mistake on our part? Mmm yep.

Complete waste of time? You bet your ass.

"Thank you for eating at McDonald's, please come again." I heard Shiro drawl in an overexagerated bored monotone from the register, if I were able to see past the grill I wouldn't be suprised to see a sneer on my twin brother's face.

"Oi, Shiro."

"Wha' the hell you want, Ichigo? Can't you see I'm busy?" He snarled back, leaning backwards to glare around the greasy bulk the grill created. Yup, thought so. Shiro's trademark sneer, plastered right there on his albino face. I nearly laughed at how ridiculous he looked with his stupid black visor with the hated golden arches emblazoned on its brim. The symbol of utter mass marketing corporation evil. All wrapped up in a cute little cardboard box and a cheep plastic toy.

Yeah, and even funnier, we work for the evil.

Nah, I wouldn't even call it that either. They own our asses. Proof? Those ugly little Ms stitched onto our clothes in gold thread. Corporate Nazis. I winced at the thought.

"Just 2 more hours 'til we're free as birds!" Shiro's sneer twisted at the thought. My twin's never been the one for standing in one place for more than a few seconds at a time, he's like a five year old on speed ninety percent of the time, always jumping off the walls and screaming profanities at whatever he can. Maybe our boss sensed that in him when he hired us and assigned Shiro in his own personal hell. Standing still and interacting civily with people. It killed him a little inside everytime he uttered a please and thank you whenever he dealed with a particularly nasty customer than his perfered offerance of 'then why don't you stick this shit where the sun don' shine! ?' It wasn't unusual for him to spend more than 4 hours mindlessly slaughtering Infected on the 360 with dark mutters of "Only three pickles and medium rare, my ass!"

"Shut the fuck up, Ichigo. Go back to your greaseboy desk and have some decency ta tell me when we're actually leaving."

"Decency? Wow, Shiro. I'll do my best to work on something you lack on this whole twin deal!"

"Shut the fuck up." He spat and turned back to the register. McDonald's, the golden lettering on back his uniform polo read, I'm loving it!

Yeah, whatever. At the very least today was payday. Enough money the two of us had earned in this greasy rathole to purchase a modest apartment on the edge of town. I spent three hours six months ago explaining to Shiro, loud enough to be heard over his whines, that we needed to save up enough money to move out of the house and get our own place rather than purchase Marvel vs Capcom the day it came out.

Shiro obliged. Grudgingly. Our dad approved. Before running off howling that his ingrate little boys were growing up so fast.

Our family is strange in so many possible ways.

"Oi. Strawberry. Two Big Macs, two large fries. Whip 'em up, grillboy, we ain't got all day."

"Shut up, Shiromu."

Shiro cackled.

"Finnaallly! FREEDOM!" Shiro shrieked throwing his visor into the air in celebration as we walked out into the parking lot. Well, I was normal enough to walk. Shiro did some kind of interpretive war dance all the way to the run down Honda Civic we both owned.

"Calm down, you'll be beating back the lunch rush again same time tommorow." I called back to him as I slung my apron over my shoulder.

"Shut up! Lemme savor this moment!" he yelled back to my from over his shoulder in mid-dance.

"Hurry up then, you spaz. You know how dad gets when we're just a minute late for dinner." I shook my head as he continued on his parking lot victory dance to unlock the car and get into to driver's seat. Shiro was too high on his personal victories over his cashier career to drive an inch in a straight line. I had to rev the tinny little engine up to get his attention.

He threw himself into the passanger's seat, hauling his dirt-smeared white Converse onto the dash, his arms behind his head and looking at complete peace with the world around him.

I raised a mock impressed eyebrow at him. "You happy?"

He sighed, grin threatening to crack his face in half, "Absolutely shitting rainbows. Turn on the radio, yeah?"

I laughed as I fingered at the dial on the beaten radio of the pre-owned sedan, "You got it."

Let me tell you about a girl I know

had a drink about an hour ago.

Sitting in a corner by herself , in a bar in downtown Hell.

"So. Do we have the money now?"

I glanced at him before returning my eyes to the road, "Just about."

"You're shitting me? We have it?"

I grinned stupidly at the disbelief in his voice, "Well I have been managing the money, haven't I?"

"Well, yeah..."

And she said, "Wait a minute I have to think."

He said, "That's fine. May I please buy you a drink?"

One drink turned into 3 or 4 and they left and got into his car

and they drove away some place real faaarrr.

"... Dad's gonna go balistic when we tell him." Shiro noted offhandedly after a few moments.

I shuddered at the thought of our father bouncing off the walls when we worked up enough courage to tell him that after six months of fastfood labor we finally managed to earn and stash away enough cash to buy our own place. He'd be screaming it from the rooftops.

It was the most the both of us could do. When we told him that we dropped out, we both knew we'd severly dissapointed him. He didn't show it but deep down we both knew.

After a few weeks of late night scheming, inbetween Live campaigns of course, we both decided on the best course of action to prove our father how responsible and mature we were was to get jobs and earn enough to move out.

The next day we looked up jobs at McDonald's. I became Ichigo the frycook and Shiromu became the cashier.

And so began six months of greasy, fried torture.

One carride later and two hours later, father and clinic director Isshin Kurosaki was quote, 'bouncing off the walls', much to both mine and Shiro's chargrin.