WHAT TALENT?
"COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON PLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSE?!??!?"
"Jesus H. Christ on a cross, get off my leg NOW!" Squall said, trying to kick away a clinging Selphie.
"But Squaaaaaa-aaaaaalllll, you promised!" Selphie whined. "You're the only guy in the whole Garden who writes properly angsty and depressive poetry!"
"…whatever."
"SEE?! You're a natural!" Selphie stood up and pouted cutely at him. "Rinoa's gonna sing, and Zell is going to do standup comedy, and Irvine has a neato dance number, and I'm gonna play guitar with Quistis as backup percussionist…"
"What's Seifer doing?" Squall asked cautiously.
Selphie shrugged. "A dramatic reading with Raijin and Fujin, I think…"
"Oh, grand. Simply grand. What're they gonna do, stand up and make animal noises while Seifer taunts innocent people in the audience? Like me?"
The girl stamped her foot and slapped a signup sheet into Squall's crotch. "Stop being a whiny little bitch or I'll REALLY give you something to grouse about!" Then she smiled sunnily and medicatedly once more. "See ya on Saturday night!" Selphie skipped off, humming a peppy version of "Eyes On Me" and tripping people left and right.
Squall shook his head. "…whatever…"
Rinoa ran up and giggled like a fool. "Hewwo, Skwawwy-poo! How's my shnoogy-oogy-baby bear?"
Squall looked left.
"Oh, you are SO sexy! See you at the talent competition, pookie-panties!" Rinoa ran away, flailing her arms all over the place.
/I have GOT to get away from women entirely….\
* * *
"I just don't think it expresses the beauty of the song entirely." Quistis said tactfully.
'But Q-biiiiiiitch! It makes a neat noise! C'mon, we NEED a glockenspiel as backup!" Selphie cried. Seeing Quistis wasn't about to back down, she turned behind her and offered the next item. "A tambourine?"
"No…"
"A xylophone?"
"I don't think that's quite it…"
"MARACAS MADE OUT OF MILK CARTONS AND PEBBLES?!?!"
"There is absolutely NO reason to scream." Quistis said snootily.
Selphie threw down the milk cartons and stomped her feet explosively. "THEN I'LL DO IT MY OWN DARN-DANG-FIM-FANG-FOONGING-DOONGING-SHUFFLE-KERFLUFFLE-MUFFLE SELF!"
"Fine!" With a sniff and a pivot, Quistis strolled huffily out the door. She stopped, turned back around, and said, "Find another percussionist this close to the contest, I dare you! I'll win with MY talent!" She then left.
"What talent would that be?! Giving blowjobs or boring lectures?!" Selphie shrieked back.
"Both!"
"Ooooh, damn stupid multitalented BLONDES with their stupid stupidhead stupidity…" Selphie stomped her feet again. "OW! Damn stupid Spice Girls-size platforms…"
* * *
Rinoa stood in her bedroom in Galbadia, frowning at a sheet of paper. She turned it left, right, upside down, folded it, scrunched it, looked at it in the mirror, applied water and invisible ink liberally over the surface, and frowned again.
"Dammit! These stupid funny little marks STILL don't look like words!"
* * *
"I just flew in from Balamb today…so I bit my sandwich!" Zell posed and waited for applause, but received none.
"We are the knights who say…GO SPARTAN SQUAD! WHOOOOO!" He waved his arms around and flashed his panties, but received no response.
Zell sighed and looked dejected. His usual bouncy exuberance deflated, he picked up the audience and squeezed it tight. "Why don't you ever talk to me, Mr. Boo?"
The teddy bear did not respond.
"Didn't you think it was FUNNY?! HUH?! WAS IT NOT HUMOROUS ENOUGH FOR YOU, YOU PRICK BASTARD?! ARRRRGGGGGHHHH!" He hurled the poor, defenseless bear against the wall. "I'LL ASK BOB THE BUNNY RABBIT WHAT HE THINKS! HE'S GOT TASTE! HE'S GOT SENSE! HE'S GOT FRICKIN' AESTHETIC VALUES!"
Bob the Bunny Rabbit did not respond.
"OOHHHHHHH YEEEEAAAAHHHH, BUDDY, YOU TELL HIM!"
"Zell!"
"Yes, Ma?"
"Did you forget your medication again?"
"Uhhh…oh."
* * *
"And one! And two! And chantee, relevee, pas de chat and GRAND JETE!"
Irvine finished with a lovely arabesque, then frowned. "Somethin' ain't right. Mah pointe is too flat; ah'm too low in the ankles! Mah turnout ain't…ain't…turned out enough!" He sighed flamboyantly, adjusting his leg warmers. "Maybe ah should do a jazz routine, huh?"
'Like, I dunno." His choreographer cracked her gum. "Like, did you ever see my Pepsi commercial? You're, like, soooooo totally pretty, y'know? Like, maybe you should dance like me, 'cuz, like, when I bother to wear clothes? You know? We, like, dress alike."
Irvine gave the camera (or the empty spot of air he pretended was a camera) the People's Eyebrow (only sexier). "Hmmmm…ah reckon you may have yourself a point there…"
His choreographer giggled and slathered on some more Fake-Bake.
* * *
"To be or, like, not to be, y'know?"
"QUESTION."
"Whether you should, like, suffer the slings and arrows of fortune or not, y'know?"
"NOBLER. OUTRAGEOUS."
Seifer stood up, wearing a cute little crop top with 'EDEA'S EX-BITCH" printed on it. "Or to take arms against a sea of pansies like Squall, and by opposing, kick their asses," he intoned.
"DIE. NO SLEEP."
There was a pause, then Raijin shook his head. "It doesn't work, y'know? It's too hard to read, y'know?"
"MUSIC."
Seifer nodded. "She's right, even if she isn't me. It does have a nice flow…or something. Hell if I know."
'WHAT NOW?"
"Maybe we should do something else, y'know? Like, a more dramatic piece, y'know?"
"How about something with murders and a sleepwalking scene and guys in kilts?" Seifer suggested.
"NO."
"How about something with this old king who has three daughters, and two of them hate him, and the last one loves him, but the other two suck up and the third one doesn't and the king gets mad and banishes her and then the two other mean sisters try to tak eover his kingdom and the king goes nuts and then the third daughter dies, y'know?"
"COMPLICATED."
Seifer thought for a second. "Okay, there's this guy who lends people cash, right? And this one guy owes him money, and he's in love with this girl whose father makes all her potential suitors choose from three coffins and—"
"SHOVE IT."
"Okay, okay, jeez!" Seifer said, annoyed. "What does Princess Fuuj want to do, eh?"
"That was really sarcastic, y'know?"
"ROMANCE!"
Seifer turned pale.
* * *
"COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON PLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSE?!??!?"
"Jesus H. Christ on a cross, get off my leg NOW!" Squall said, trying to kick away a clinging Selphie.
"But Squaaaaaa-aaaaaalllll, you promised!" Selphie whined. "You're the only guy in the whole Garden who writes properly angsty and depressive poetry!"
"…whatever."
"SEE?! You're a natural!" Selphie stood up and pouted cutely at him. "Rinoa's gonna sing, and Zell is going to do standup comedy, and Irvine has a neato dance number, and I'm gonna play guitar with Quistis as backup percussionist…"
"What's Seifer doing?" Squall asked cautiously.
Selphie shrugged. "A dramatic reading with Raijin and Fujin, I think…"
"Oh, grand. Simply grand. What're they gonna do, stand up and make animal noises while Seifer taunts innocent people in the audience? Like me?"
The girl stamped her foot and slapped a signup sheet into Squall's crotch. "Stop being a whiny little bitch or I'll REALLY give you something to grouse about!" Then she smiled sunnily and medicatedly once more. "See ya on Saturday night!" Selphie skipped off, humming a peppy version of "Eyes On Me" and tripping people left and right.
Squall shook his head. "…whatever…"
Rinoa ran up and giggled like a fool. "Hewwo, Skwawwy-poo! How's my shnoogy-oogy-baby bear?"
Squall looked left.
"Oh, you are SO sexy! See you at the talent competition, pookie-panties!" Rinoa ran away, flailing her arms all over the place.
/I have GOT to get away from women entirely….\
* * *
"I just don't think it expresses the beauty of the song entirely." Quistis said tactfully.
'But Q-biiiiiiitch! It makes a neat noise! C'mon, we NEED a glockenspiel as backup!" Selphie cried. Seeing Quistis wasn't about to back down, she turned behind her and offered the next item. "A tambourine?"
"No…"
"A xylophone?"
"I don't think that's quite it…"
"MARACAS MADE OUT OF MILK CARTONS AND PEBBLES?!?!"
"There is absolutely NO reason to scream." Quistis said snootily.
Selphie threw down the milk cartons and stomped her feet explosively. "THEN I'LL DO IT MY OWN DARN-DANG-FIM-FANG-FOONGING-DOONGING-SHUFFLE-KERFLUFFLE-MUFFLE SELF!"
"Fine!" With a sniff and a pivot, Quistis strolled huffily out the door. She stopped, turned back around, and said, "Find another percussionist this close to the contest, I dare you! I'll win with MY talent!" She then left.
"What talent would that be?! Giving blowjobs or boring lectures?!" Selphie shrieked back.
"Both!"
"Ooooh, damn stupid multitalented BLONDES with their stupid stupidhead stupidity…" Selphie stomped her feet again. "OW! Damn stupid Spice Girls-size platforms…"
* * *
Rinoa stood in her bedroom in Galbadia, frowning at a sheet of paper. She turned it left, right, upside down, folded it, scrunched it, looked at it in the mirror, applied water and invisible ink liberally over the surface, and frowned again.
"Dammit! These stupid funny little marks STILL don't look like words!"
* * *
"I just flew in from Balamb today…so I bit my sandwich!" Zell posed and waited for applause, but received none.
"We are the knights who say…GO SPARTAN SQUAD! WHOOOOO!" He waved his arms around and flashed his panties, but received no response.
Zell sighed and looked dejected. His usual bouncy exuberance deflated, he picked up the audience and squeezed it tight. "Why don't you ever talk to me, Mr. Boo?"
The teddy bear did not respond.
"Didn't you think it was FUNNY?! HUH?! WAS IT NOT HUMOROUS ENOUGH FOR YOU, YOU PRICK BASTARD?! ARRRRGGGGGHHHH!" He hurled the poor, defenseless bear against the wall. "I'LL ASK BOB THE BUNNY RABBIT WHAT HE THINKS! HE'S GOT TASTE! HE'S GOT SENSE! HE'S GOT FRICKIN' AESTHETIC VALUES!"
Bob the Bunny Rabbit did not respond.
"OOHHHHHHH YEEEEAAAAHHHH, BUDDY, YOU TELL HIM!"
"Zell!"
"Yes, Ma?"
"Did you forget your medication again?"
"Uhhh…oh."
* * *
"And one! And two! And chantee, relevee, pas de chat and GRAND JETE!"
Irvine finished with a lovely arabesque, then frowned. "Somethin' ain't right. Mah pointe is too flat; ah'm too low in the ankles! Mah turnout ain't…ain't…turned out enough!" He sighed flamboyantly, adjusting his leg warmers. "Maybe ah should do a jazz routine, huh?"
'Like, I dunno." His choreographer cracked her gum. "Like, did you ever see my Pepsi commercial? You're, like, soooooo totally pretty, y'know? Like, maybe you should dance like me, 'cuz, like, when I bother to wear clothes? You know? We, like, dress alike."
Irvine gave the camera (or the empty spot of air he pretended was a camera) the People's Eyebrow (only sexier). "Hmmmm…ah reckon you may have yourself a point there…"
His choreographer giggled and slathered on some more Fake-Bake.
* * *
"To be or, like, not to be, y'know?"
"QUESTION."
"Whether you should, like, suffer the slings and arrows of fortune or not, y'know?"
"NOBLER. OUTRAGEOUS."
Seifer stood up, wearing a cute little crop top with 'EDEA'S EX-BITCH" printed on it. "Or to take arms against a sea of pansies like Squall, and by opposing, kick their asses," he intoned.
"DIE. NO SLEEP."
There was a pause, then Raijin shook his head. "It doesn't work, y'know? It's too hard to read, y'know?"
"MUSIC."
Seifer nodded. "She's right, even if she isn't me. It does have a nice flow…or something. Hell if I know."
'WHAT NOW?"
"Maybe we should do something else, y'know? Like, a more dramatic piece, y'know?"
"How about something with murders and a sleepwalking scene and guys in kilts?" Seifer suggested.
"NO."
"How about something with this old king who has three daughters, and two of them hate him, and the last one loves him, but the other two suck up and the third one doesn't and the king gets mad and banishes her and then the two other mean sisters try to tak eover his kingdom and the king goes nuts and then the third daughter dies, y'know?"
"COMPLICATED."
Seifer thought for a second. "Okay, there's this guy who lends people cash, right? And this one guy owes him money, and he's in love with this girl whose father makes all her potential suitors choose from three coffins and—"
"SHOVE IT."
"Okay, okay, jeez!" Seifer said, annoyed. "What does Princess Fuuj want to do, eh?"
"That was really sarcastic, y'know?"
"ROMANCE!"
Seifer turned pale.
* * *