I Dream of Microwaves
Part One
WARNING! This fiction made by a fan contains nudity, subtle bashings to other fictions made by fans (such as Mary Sues and yaoi ), cursing, several forms of the word 'spiffy', repitition, incoherrency, repitition, bed-head and incoherrency. It is not suitable for anyone on this plane of existence. Go away. :P
T.T I don't own Yuugiou. Wah. -gives several cliched heartbroken sobs into Yami Bakura pl00sheh that doesn't really exist-
A train leaves point A at 35.6 kilometers per hour, carrying 47 passengers on board. A much smaller train only carrying 26 passengers leaves point B at 28 miles per hour. Both are travelling to point C, 40,045 yards from point A and 20,395.56 meters from point B. The train travelling from point A has only 75 kiloloters of fuel, whereas the train travelling from point B has 60 dekaliters of fuel. If, on the way to point C, both the trains were attacked by grizzly bears, Train A's conductor turned out to be schizophrenic, Train B promptly imploded and was revitalized by the Dragon Balls, and both suffered a shortage of peanut butter (the shortage for Train A occured three days prioir to Train B's shortage) how long
Malik Ishtal stopped to rub his eyes. Emitting a huff of frustration, he cupped his right cheek in hand and propped himself on his desk again. Toe-stubbingly jarring violet eyes flared 'BOREDOM' as the sun-browned teen tapped a pencil eraser against his temple.
"Good Ra. This history homework is hard."
His features turned sour as the MOUNT FUJI of homework made its presence known once more. Damn it all to hell and back.
Ever since he had started school in Japan, Malik found it increasingly difficult to keep his schoolwork on the up-and-up. In fact, the only class he wasn't failing was biology... in which the class was currently dissecting frogs ("Eeeuhhh... what're you doi-" "AAAAAIIIIEEEEEE! HE'S GONNA KILL US ALL!" "Wh- MISTER ISHTAL! PUT THAT SWORDFISH MODEL DOWN AND RELEASE THE FROG AT ONCE!"). But let's not get into that.
The digital clock displayed '10:36 PM' in fluorescent red digits. Scowling and shaking his sandy-blonde head, the Egyptian cupped both sides of his face and propped his elbows on the desk again. "I am SO finishing this book report!" he muttered, glaring back at the math problem. Okay. he thought, I just need to think on its level... I can do this...
About tens seconds later -
"RRRRAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" The thouroughly irked bishie bellowed like a wounded tiger, grabbing the the math book and hurling it out of the window. Which wasn't opened.
"STUPID SPANISH ASSIGNMENT!" At this he heaved the entirity of the MOUNT FUJI of various school assignments and hurled them against the wall. Panting, the triumphant grimace on his face turned to one of 'Huh?' as the MOUNT FUJI of assigments gave a whimper of pain and utter misery.
Of course, we all know that school assigments can only growl venomously, and so Malik realized it wasn't the now mutilated worksheets and text books. He wandered from his now Armageddon-struck room to the source of the noise, as if nothing irregular had just happened. Ha.
He still didn't know his way around Isis's house very well ( Bum. :P ), but stopped at what he knew to be the guest room. A soft sob sounded from within.
"Hello?" he ventured, tapping lightly on the door. Silence. "Any one in th.." he tapped the door again, harder this time, a bit shocked when the door swung open easily.
There, in a half-fetal position on the overly-proportioned windowsill was a piteously sad figure. He could see nothing of its features, for the darkness outside painted it in a veil of shade. The figure spoke without turning, their face pointing up to the pearl-strewn nightsky.
"By watching, I know that the stars are not going to last." it began, voice racked with grief. "I have seen some the best ones melt and run down the sky. Since one can melt, they all can melt; since they can all melt, they can all melt the same night. That sorrow will come - I know it. I mean to sit up every night and look at them as long as I can keep awake; and I will impress those sparkling fields in my soul of souls, so that by and by when they are taken away, I can restore those myriads to the black sky and make them sparkle again, and double them by the blur of my tears."
Now sufficiently freaked out, Malik reached up and pulled the light switch, hesitant as to how the figure just before him would react.
Yami Malik erupted from the crouching fetal position as the picture of despair, the back of his right hand held daintily to his forehead whilst his left was flourished dramatically behind him. Malik blanched visibly as the fully-liscenced psycho killer continued.
"O! My faint heart; how it flutters, like autumn leaves on the gale! Oh woe, how it patters louder and louder, as the hooffalls of a thousand black stallions, forever reminding me of the night that has not yet come! CATCH ME, NOBLE PRINCE!"
Malik, who had long since facefaulted, didn't even bother attempting to catch his yami as the mentally disturbed spirit fell to the hardwood floor with a dull thud. He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. "Yami... have you been reading my 18th century literature book again?"
A response piped up from somewhere near his feet. "How cowardly of ye, gad sir! Letting a comrade blow by the by in th' Satan's breeze, not hindering yourself to the aid of your lifelong companion! Preposterous!"
"You're the one that fell by choice, idiot."
A brief moment of silence.
"...and it HURT!"
Malik sweatdropped, giving his darker half a flat look as the spirit brushed himself off... and abruptly glomped his hikari, spouting ever more poetic smut, "Ah! It is the first sign!" he exclaimed, half-suffocating Malik as he peered fearfully out of the window. "The sun hath passeth by the Earth, abandoning our empty skies for the comfortable haven of elsewhere! Alas, ours are cruel times coming, for how shall we warm our weary bones from the cold, when our daily eye hath vanished, leaving not even the lingering grin of a Cheshire cat? How might we- MMMFF!"
"S-STOPPIT!" Malik squeaked in a rather un-Maliky way, his voicebox crushed as it was. "It's NIGHTTIME! Weren't you just goiing on about the blurry stars or something?" he slandered his other half's... ahem... delicate display from a moment earlier. The psychotic spirit's lower lip began to tremble; he turned and crossed his arms with a 'hmph'.
"Honestly, hikari..." he tutted, his familiar grating drawl replacing the former rather disturbing squeal. "...you have horrible taste... and no appreciation for the refined arts. So barbaric."
Malik mocked his yami's tutting, replying with a skeptical glance, "So says the one who devours the hearts of his victims."
"I'll repeat it again: You have no appreciation for refined tastes."
"...that's not what you said."
"Yes it is."
"No it's not."
"YES, it IS."
"NO, it's N-"
"FINE!" his yami bellowed, casting a dramatic arm to the conspicuously covered bulky form on the other side of the guestroom. "We shall SEE what I said WITH THE TIME MACHINE I HAVE CONSTRUCTED!"
He ripped the mildew-ridden sheet away, revealing a huge scrap ball of lawnmower, dishwasher, washing machine, and toaster parts. Malik sweatdropped fiercely, reflecting on the possibility that his yami may have too much free time on his hands.
"...I'm not going to ask 'What the Hell', because I know well enough not even Anubis himself, with all of his evil seven-layered fire-and-brimstone empire, would be such an asshead as to build A GIANT BALL OF SCRAP METAL WITH THE PARTS TAKEN FROM MY SISTER'S HOUSEHOLD APPLIANCES."
"Oh, you're just jealous."
SuperCutieMegaGoddessPrincess( 22:36:06): OMG MY LIFE IS RUINED! Th eboy i like at school thinks im a total idiot!
RyBkura(22:36:12): Really? Could've fooled me.
SuperCutieMegaGoddessPrincess(22:36:18): u c, We had a dance today and I knew h ewas going to ask me out even though he acts like he doesnt like me...
RyBkura(22:36:25): Poor bastard.
SuperCutieMegaGoddessPrincess(22:36:39): so I was going to ask him out so I wanted to look really good so he wouldnt feel bad when he said yes so I got a complete makeover and wanted to put on some really nice impressions not that i really needed it since he always looks rite at me when I wlak in the clasroom...
RyBkura(22:36:48): Smart guy. Never turn your back on a wild animal.
SuperCutieMegaGoddessPrincess(22:36:54): and when I went up 2 him after class he was all shy and jumped back when I tried to hu ghim...
RyBkura(22:37:03): Rightfully so. Rabies are contagious, you know.
SuperCutieMegaGoddessPrincess(22:37:10): and then I got home and realized why he said No! i put on cocobutter body spray insted of kiwi mellon! and so thten i was like OMG i am Such and idit!
RyBkura(22:37:18): Don't worry. You'll find your one and only someday.
SuperCutieMegaGoddessPrincess(22:37:25): reealy! Do u mean that!
RyBkura(22:37:31): No.
RyBkura has left the chatroom.
Yami Bakura smirked lightly, draped languidy in Ryou's computer chair, in front of Ryou's computer, under Ryou's AIM username. He had just recently learned the advantages of modern technology, regretting having not done so sooner. He could mentally scar people in a much smaller area of time - though the lack of bloodshed was a definite bummer. So that was why he kept red strawberries on the desk. Red. Mmm.
Wandering aimlessly about Ryou's Favorites list, the white-haired spirit paused for a moment as a new window popped up on the screen.
CONGRATULATIONS! YOU ARE VISITOR 39673937593859679375957694! YOU HAVE WON THE PRIZE OF THE DAY!
"HOT DAMN!" the tomb robber barked in triumph, leaning forward eagerly. Before he could click the multi-colored box, however, another popped up onto the screen.
YOU HAVE JUST RECEIVED FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS OF GOLD FROM TAX REFUND! CLICK HERE TO CLAIM YOUR PRIZE!
By now the spirit was salivating, infatuated by the prospect of both a mystery prize and five hundred pounds of gold acquired in mere seconds. Unfortunately for him, his overactive salivary glands would be his undoing... yami-drool spilled out all over the keyboard and mouse. Ewey.
As the yen-eyed yami attempted to click the two windows, his finder slipped on the spittle-soaked mouse and accidentaly clicked on the THIRD window that had popped up... one that had not yet loaded...
(( Insert dramatic time elapse sequence ))
Ryou Bakura sighed as the front door dhut behind him, kicking off his tennis shoes rather dejectedly. Shrugging off his spiffy supermarket cashier's smock, he tossed the minty green linen on the coat rack, and missed horribly.
"Yami..." he groaned aloud when he saw the television left on, that spiffish static stuff floating around onscreen. Snow, or ants. Whatever that show's called.
Halfway to the television, the russet-eyed teen froze when he caught sight of the transfixed Bakura, seemingly mesmerised by the living room wall. His knees were hugged to his chest, rocking back and forth slowly. Ryou was instantly perturbed as to what could unsettle the psycho-killing-hardass of a British-looking guy, for he obviously was not alright. And so he asked what any intelligent person would ask.
"Are you alright?"
That's right. Show off that cashier ingenuity.
"I had no idea... what was coming." the deeply disturnbed tomb robber murmured. "I thought... I thought my intentions were good enough..."
Ryou noticed his computer on. Not bothering to question his self-teaching yami as to how he turned it on, he saw the contents of the screen... and promptly fell over.
"YAMI!" he yelped. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON A YAOI SITE?" Ater considering this for a moment, the high-strung smock-sporter's features softened. "Yami... is there something you want to tell me?"
"I WAS BLIND-SIDED!" Bakura wailed, collapsing into a deeply-scarred heap of sibbing bishie-ness. "I WAS DRAWN IN BY THE TEMPTATION OF GOLD MYSTERY!" He leapt to his feet, grabbing his hikari harshly by the shoudlers. "THERE WERE STORIES ABOUT US! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THINGS THEY SAID?"
Bakura's eeeeeety-bitty Memory Bubble:
Yami Bakura was sitting on the couch. Ryou was vacuuming. Ryou beagn vacuuming the couch. Ryou accidentally vacuumed off Yami Bakura's shirt.
Shirtless Yami Bakura didn't seem to notice, but continued reading his romance novel called "Two Hot Guys Making Out". Deep. Very deep.
"Whew! It's hot in here." Ryou said. He went to turn down the thermostat, but it was broken. So he took off his shirt. He was really sweaty.
Yami Bakura looked up from his romance-novel.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"I'm a hot guy, and you're a hot guy... LET'S MAKE OUT."
Dramatic music swells in the background as the two shirtless, sweaty bishonen began-
"Okay, OKAY!" Ryou flailed his arms to dissolve the eeeeeeety-bitty memory bubble that had materialized between the two bishonen. He sighed and sympathetically patted his sobbing yami.
"There there. We're all victim to lemon pop-ups sooner or later."
After assuring his hysterical darker half that the thermostat was far from broken and that he didn't vacuum the couch (which accounted for the fumes of dust that issued everytime someone sat down), Ryou shut down the computer.
'Oh, hell.' he thought. 'It got hot in here all of a sudden...' Not wanting to further alarm his already psychologically-regressing yami, the hikari recheckd the thermostat and swore to himself he woudl retain all clothing articles.
"74 degrees F..." he began. "Then why is it so bloody...?"
And then he smelled smoke. Horrified, Ryou spun about and saw his spiffy green cashier's smock aflame, having caught on the heater he had tossed it upon. Was it mentioned that curtains were hanging directly above that? And that the couch was touched by those?
CRASH! SHATTER!
The ninja star-headed teen didn't even bother looking up from his Gameboy, curled up on the couch in the Starry Pajamas of Spiff. Nor did the OTHER ( older )ninja star-headed teen, but he wouldn't really be called a teen, would he?
"Huh." The older I-Have-Lethal-Hair teen grunted, boredly flipping through the channels, stomach-down on the living room floor. "Sounds like Malik didn't do his homework."
The jammie-sporter looked lazily over at the math book surrounded by broken glass, laying somewhere in the front room. "Yeah."
Lack of conversation prevailed.
"...maybe someone should go pick it up." Gameboy added.
"...Yeah."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
They both turned to each other. Simultaneously, "Nah."
And suddenly... there was a knock at the door.
The two both glanced at each other again. It was a Battle Of Wills...
The two stared fiercely at each other, sparks flying from the friction of the two gazes. Said sparks leapt on to Sugoroko, who had come upstairs to get a soda, and the elderly shopkeeper caught aflame. Sprouting brilliant gold and red plumage of not-quite-such-pleasantness, Yugi's grandfather promptly fell off of the balcony that had seemingly appeared. No one noticed.
And finally... AH! There it was - Yugi ultimate attack... The Chibi Eyes of DOOM.
"Can't... resist..." Yami grunted, shaking his head in order to clear it of the happy thoughts. Like bunnies. And dancing Kuribos. Happy stuff. "Too... cute..."
"FINE! You win!" the pride-wounded pharaoh cried in exasperation at his aibou's innocent look, straightening and stomping off to answer the door.
Making a point to avoid the broken glass and math book, but not to clean the mess, the Weapon-of-Mass-Destruction-haired pharaoh moodily clasped the barss doorhandle and wrenched it open. "How may I help y..." the question died on his lips as the King of Games beheld the most terrifying sight his 5,000 year-old eyes had ever beheld. More terrifying than the countless slaughters, wars, demons, gods of darkness, and evil slime he had ever witnessed...
"Hello." greeted the smooth-voiced stranger. Goldish-silverish-purplish-bluish-scarletish flecks were set like gems in her SPARKLING emerald eyes, which Yami only vaguely recognized as physically impossible. Perfectly layered sunset-sea-blue locks with rosemary streaks fell to her perfectly sculpted shoulders, blowing in a dramatic and conveniently timed breeze. An INCONSPICUOUS gold chain held an INCONSPICUOUS gold item which looked both threatening, powerful, and threatening.
"I heard your window breaking from 20 blocks away, since I have such sharp hearing, and decided I should come fix it for you just because I enjoy helping people out. I can mend in about six seconds, and could tell by the impact that it was a math book. So, I rode my gryphon, Casablancette, over as fast as I could..." she motioned to a golden-furred and lavender-highlighted gryphon that was currently rebuilding Sugorokor's car in the driveway with a series of complicated procedures and equipment. Once more, Yami was only vaguely aware of the impossibilty.
"...but we got here 10 seconds sooner because I slowed down time with my Sennen Item. Anyway, my name is Trejolieleffilleihaveasennenitemthatcanreadmindsandslowdowntimeandimatenthdegreeblackbeltattheageof16whichjustsohappenstobeyouragebutitsimpossibletodothatat16butididitcuzimjustthatgood Smith." Of course, it just so happened that name meanT 'REALLY BEAUTIFUL PERSON THAT YOU SHOULD FALL MADLY IN LOVE WITH' in some obscure Arabic dialiect. "And I'm going to be your new neighbor." She smiled, and for a moment it seemed there was a rainbow behind her, and birds were chirping, and that the sun would decide to start early and some out just to shine on so perfect being.
Yami's eyes resembled 60's headlights as the pharaoh promptly slammed the door shut... locked it... threw the latch... fastened the chain... and pushed a large table against the entryway.
"Yami..?" came Yugi's inquery from the living room. "Who was it?"
The pharaoh wiped away the cold sweat that had overthrown his brow. "Get Away from the windows, Yugi! THERE'S A MARY SUE!"
From the seventh layer of his empire of fire-and-brimstone, Anubis watched the scene from one of those spiffy All-Seeing Glasses all the bad guys seem to have in anime. "Whoa, I would SO not like to be that guy."
N'ed.
Squee. Hopefully this fic isn't breaking any rules, ne-;; Euh... I really want to get this posted since I have sparring in the morning, so pretend I said something deeply clever.
Oh yeah. I went there.