This is one of those fanfictions where various characters who do not live in Domino do. Do not question my fanon.
Disclaimer: I don't own Yuugiou. Because I'm lame.
Duckie
It was a dark day in Domino when the Ishtars decided to host a yard sale. Dark partly in the literal sense and partly in the apocalyptic woe-is-the-world way teenagers most often associate with midterms and stale donuts.
It was dark in the first way because, as Isis and Rishid set up the folding tables borrowed from various neighbors, the proverbial rooster was still at rest in his neat little loft in a quaint red barn located somewhere in the western world were the cliché originated. So why it was mentioned in a story set in Japan, I am not sure. But in any case, the more responsible members of the family had decided to set up shop, so to speak, at the crack of dawn, roughly 4:37 AM.
Ah, such a fresh morning for a yard sale.
As for the ominous, sinister, evil-boding, ill-omened way, well… let's just say Malik wasn't exactly a morning person.
"Rishid," he huffed, "my Fruit Loops aren't crunchy enough."
"Perhaps because that's oatmeal?" Rishid answered, ever so polite.
Malik glared at his breakfast. He was supposed to be assisting with the set-up process, but being Malik he had decided to stand in the lawn and supervise. It was rather inconvenient, for Isis had yet to bring out the chairs for the cashier and he had to hold the plastic bowl in one hand and his spoon in the other. The bowl, he noted, did indeed contain oatmeal.
"Then I want raisins," he demanded. But to his dismay, Rishid had entered the house to retrieve more of the useless junk they intended to sell. Isis came out with a folding chair. "Bring me raisins!"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I got you a chair. You look stupid standing there like that."
"Your face is stupid."
"…Right." She set the chair up. He scowled at her. "Well, have a seat. I'm putting you in charge of the money."
"Fine." Malik spat, sitting in the chair as defiantly as he could and slamming his bowl down on the table. Oatmeal splattered on his face.
"Touch—y," Isis muttered and returned to the house.
Now, you may be wondering, dearest reader, why one would have a yard sale at such an odd hour of the morning. Well, you see, the Ishtars lived in a section of Domino populated almost entirely by senior citizens. Senior citizens who had a lot of money and liked to buy useless junk and presents for their grandchildren. Senior citizens who woke at 4:30 to watch the 5:00 weather report while eating their English muffins. Senior citizens who liked to take a walk after their breakfast. It was all just one brilliant strategy, you see.
Rishid set a box of old toys down next to the moody teen. "Enjoying your meal, Malik-sama?" He wisely ignored commenting on the grayish lumps still stuck to his brother's face.
Malik gave him the scariest hate-filled face someone running on three hours of sleep can give.
"I see."
One by one the senior citizens came, pushing walkers and running their tongues over dentures. Malik glared at them as they rummaged through boxes and laughing with each other about the invention of mobile phones. How dare they be enjoying this morning while he felt like molding avocado unfit for even the worst guacamole.
That's right, Yami no Malik's voice rang through his head. Look at them. How can they act like this when the rest of the world is asleep?
Shut up, Malik thought back as an elderly woman inquired the price of a lamp.
YOU should be asleep too, his darker side continued. Why is Isis forcing you into something you so obviously despise? What a cruel woman.
"It's six hundred yen. Pretty cheap, right?" Leave me alone. You can't bother me anymore.
"Oh, yes… I'll take it." Malik took the woman's money and dropped it in the metal box his sister had provided him, not bothering to organize the money.
Are you getting a share of any of that?
Malik was starting to get a headache. "Ma'am! Please be careful with that!" So what if I don't get a cut? I have my own funds.
Psh. They're stealing from you, you know.
Malik rubbed his temple and realized he still had oatmeal all over his face. He swore rather loudly and a nearby couple scuttled away as fast as their walkers would allow.
They are not! He yelled back in his mind. It's just a bunch of junk.
But it's your junk. Just look around– most of it's yours.
Shut up and leave me alone.
And with that, Malik put all the effort he could into blocking off his other side. But he couldn't help but peer around at all that was being sold. Earlier he hadn't been paying attention to much besides his unsatisfactory breakfast, but now that he took a good look around…
An old man in a bathrobe was examining a chipped mirror that had previously been in Malik's room. He was whipping off the dust that had accumulated over the years and was, to Malik's horror, getting fingerprints all over it. Imagine! What if Malik wanted to look at his gorgeous face and he couldn't see his sexy smile through old man prints?
And then over toward the mailbox, some poodle on a leash was sniffing a box full of some of his old dented jewelry. That stuff was expensive! Plus, what if dents and scratches came into style? Then he'd have to buy even more jewelry. Maybe, he seethed, he'd be lucky and he'd have some wet-dog smelling earrings left by the end of the sale.
"Excuse me, Sir," some old bag croaked from the box of toys next to him.
"What?" he snapped, fuming over the people crowded around a box of his old black robes and cooing over what great pajamas they'd make for Ichiro and Junko and Misa-chan.
"I was just wonder how much this is?" she feebly held something up.
Malik whirled on her, ready to give her a piece of his mind, when he caught sight of the object. It was a rubber duckie. His rubber duckie. His duckie-wuckie-chuckie. His only friend growing up when they only had monthly baths due to the problems with getting water in a secret underground society in a desert (really, how had they gotten any water or food or anything at all?). Ducky-wucky-chucky was staring at his with moldy eyes, pleading for help.
Malik-sama… rescue me from the witch…
"NO!" he bellowed at the lady. "I DON'T THINK SO. HE IS MY DUCKIE-WUCKIE-CHUCKIE. MINE."
"Oh…" said the woman feebly. "I'm sorry."
"AND YOU SHOULD BE," Malik screamed back at her, abruptly standing with enough force to knock over his chair and a small display of empty shampoo bottles. Snarling, he snatched the duck from her hand and stormed back into the house, roughly shoving Isis aside on his way in.
"He lasted longer than I expected," she mused to Rishid.
"Malik-sama was never a morning person," he replied.
Malik's probably plotting how to ruin the yard sale with Duckie-wuckie-chuckie now. u.u
In case anyone is wondering (which I doubt), the sunrise in the Tokyo area in Japan was at 4:37 (the time listed in this fic) on Saturday, May 14 2007. Yes, I looked it up; don't look at me like that.
This has been an extremely belated birthday present for Artificially Intelligent Data Anomaly. In fact, it's SO belated that it's actually only slightly late for her NEXT birthday. Because I am just that good.