Title: One, Big, Dysfunctional Family
Rating: T for language. And because most RENT fics are rated T, anyway. Nothing new. At least to you, probably. I'm not big on cussing, especially the F word. So this'll be alien territory to me. X(
Genre: Humor
Summary: When Collins wins a vacation getaway and all the bohos tag-along, they learn that they really are one heck of a crowd, among other things.
Notes: Hello… I am the recently dubbed Captain Amminergeon. (Bows) You may have known me by Jedi Master Arie Skywalker in the past, but as I have switched fandoms, a new penname was needed for a fresh start.
This is my first full-length RENT story. (Gasp)
It's postRENT, but Angel lives… because I need her.
Special thanks: To my brother, my cousin Sarah, and a wonderful author of here by the penname of Stephanie Pascal. The three of you are… well, quite a combination when it comes to inspiring the humor juices to flow through my brain. XD
What's Good: I'm truly convinced that RENT has changed my life.
What's Bad: Homework.
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Chapter 1
A single drumstick reached out and prodded the figure sprawled over the moth-eaten blankets.
"Are you sure he's alive, Mark?" Collins asked pointedly, watching his lover poke the shoulder of Roger Davis.
"He's snoring… which I don't think you can do when you're dead." Mark called back from the kitchen area, where he was making coffee.
"Daaaaammmmmmn." Collins stretched out the word for emphasis, before leaning down and positioning his mouth several inches from Roger's ear.
"Baby, don't you'll burst the poor boy's eardrums." Angel warned Collins, looking rather worried.
Either Collins didn't hear her or chose to ignore it.
"YO, ROG!" He shouted, his deep voice booming throughout the loft. "GET YOUR LAZY WHITE BOY ASS UP BEFORE I HAVE TO RESORT TO DRASTIC MEASURES!"
Angel winced, covering her ears. "Collins!" She shrieked, staring wild-eyed at the rocker on the couch, expecting him to jump at least ten standard feet into the air.
"Mmmmm…" Roger mumbled, and he flopped over, dangling his feet off the sides of the couch. Snores continued to rumble from beneath the blanket.
Collins shook his head, eyes cold. "ROGER DAVIS!"
Nothing.
"It won't work. I've tried, trust me. Roger's like a goddamn boulder in the morning." Mark came in and sat upon a chair, sipping from a mug.
Collins sighed, and then said more quietly. "Hey Roger! Mimi's coming back in a little bit…" He waggled his eyebrows for effect. "Your girlfriend. Mimi."
Silence. A cricket chirped.
"DAMN YOU, CRICKET!" Collins yelled, "You think you can mock me as SUCH???!!! Well, I am Thomas B. Collins, and I WILL CONQUER YOU!"
Angel tapped Collins' shoulder. "Hey, baby… what if we just wait for Roger to get up? I mean, he might be tired, and probably just needs his rest. After his gig last night, he's probably exhausted."
"EXHAUSTED, MY ASS!" Collins screamed. "There is no excuse. He needs to learn that normal people don't sleep this long…" He paused and glanced at the clock. "It's nearly noon!"
"Well, honey, maybe Mimi'll wake him up when she gets here."
"Ang, Mimi's bringing her parents here for lunch." Collins said pointedly. "He's never met them before. Don't you think he's probably going to want to look at least remotely presentable?"
"He doesn't give a rat's ass what he looks like, Collins." Mark said into his cup.
"Well, I will not have Mr. and Mrs. Marquez coming into my crib with this fat ass snoozing on the couch, crampin' my style, you dig?"
Mark choked and spit up the hot liquid he'd been in the process of swallowing, along with a decent sized hairball. "What the-?"
Angel stared down at the fuzzy mass that had just exploded from Mark, now splattered onto the floor. Her eyes traveled up to Mark's face.
"It's not what it looks like, I swear!" Mark said nervously.
Collins, meanwhile, had not noticed, and had continued to glare daggers at his friend who lay limp upon the couch. "I didn't want to have to do this… you are a dear friend, Roger."
"Baby…" Angel started.
"NO! HE DESERVES THIS, ANGEL!" Collins cried, and he swung his foot backward, and swiftly connected it with Roger's back, ramming it stiffly between his shoulder blades.
Mark cringed. "Collins…"
"Shhhh!" Collins held up a hand, watching Roger's still form expectantly.
Roger arched his back and rolled over, stretching. Collins looked triumphantly. "See, I told you it would…"
But he was cut off by another snore, as Roger had flipped over, his stomach now facing up.
"I give up." Collins said, almost tearfully. "Must he cause me such despair?"
"It comes with the package." Mark told him.
Angel, meanwhile, was smiling. "I have an idea."
"What, baby?"
"I could jump on him…." Angel said; an uncharacteristically evil grin on her face. "……….in stilletos."
Mark nearly coughed up another hairball as Collins stared incredulously at Angel. Angel… with a brilliantly evil idea? It seemed unfathomable.
Angel, sensing their shock, quickly added, "And say sorry afterwards."
"That's MY GIRL!" Collins exclaimed, falling backward to sit beside Mark on the couch. "I gotta see this."
Angel, now determined, withdrew a pair of ultra-shiny silver stilletos from her bag and began to secure them around her feet.
"Damn, Ang, those things look fucking dangerous." Collins remarked, eyeing the three-and-a-half inch heels.
Angel paused, and then seemed to think for a minute. "You know, I think it would probably be better in this case if I didn't close these clasps." She pointed to the shoe.
"You sound like you speak from experience." Mark noted casually, suppressing a laugh.
"And how do you know I don't, Marky?" Angel said sweetly.
She then stood to her full height, now increased by the monstrous, outrageously tall heels. "Ready?"
Mark rubbed his hand together. "Do it."
Collins suddenly screamed. "NO! WAIT! I wanna make popcorn!"
But Angel was already in the air. Time seemed to move slowly she descended, her spiked heels making contact with Roger, and Collins and Mark's eyes glued to the scene.
Angel half-fell out of the unbuckled shoes, her tear-filled eyes roving between the form of her sleeping friend and her now bare feet.
Then, a god-awful yowl filled everyone's ears, and Roger was on his feet, screaming various curse words that he knew and some he made up.
"OW, FUCK!" He yelled; trying desperately to see what was causing him such pain. Mark's teeth were gritted and he looked mildly sympathetic.
Collins… was laughing his ass off, rolling around on the floor.
Angel stared up at Roger, frozen, as Roger managed to tug one of the heels from where it had embedded itself in his back. He turned around, looking very much in pain.
"Haha, Collins…" He growled, as he struggled to reach the second heel. "You think you're so DAMN funny…"
"It wasn't him." Angel said, sadly.
Roger spun around. "What?"
"I'm so sorry…" Angel sobbed. "I didn't mean to really HURT you! I was trying to be helpful!" She put her face in her hands. "I WISH IT WAS ME WHO HAD THE HEELS IN MY BACK!"
Roger grimaced, and yanked the second shoe out. "Ahhhh…! Angel…?"
"I'm so sorry… Roger, I'm SO SORRY!" Angel wailed, "Will you ever FORGIVE ME?"
Roger, looking quite angry, suddenly softened, looking bewildered. "I… uh…."
Mark stood up, eyeing Roger's back. "Hey buddy, you may want to go put something on that." He pointed at Roger's back.
Roger winced, reaching an arm over his shoulder. "It's really that bad?"
"OH MY GOD! I GAVE ROGER A PERMANENT SCAR! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? I AM NOT WORTHY TO EVEN BE IN YOUR PRESENCE!" Angel curled up into a ball, refusing to meet Roger's eyes.
Collins stared at Roger for a moment before replying softly, "No, baby… Roger's okay… you didn't hurt him at all…" He sat down beside Angel and brought her into his arms. "Really baby, he's alright…. RIGHT, ROGER?"
Roger nodded, seeing the look in Collins' eyes. "Uh, yeahh… I'm alright. Just two bleeding puncture wounds, no big deal."
And Roger walked stiffly toward the bathroom. "I'll just…uh… wash up…"
The door slammed behind him.
"There, there… Angel, it's okay." Collins soothed her.
She hiccupped. "Collins, I put two fucking holes in my friends back… that is NOT OKAY."
Collins smiled. "But you got him up, didn't you? So you DID help, babe."
Angel sniffed. "I suppose."
Mark got up and walked toward the kitchen. "Hey Collins, what the hell are we feeding Mimi's parents anyway?"
"Delicious stale Captain Crunch, served in a grimy bowl that was used for Collins' toenail clippings?" Roger said, emerging from the bathroom. He had dressed himself in a decent outfit, but he still had a hand pressed to his back.
"Decidedly not." Mark said, picking up the box of cereal. "It expired two weeks ago… I'm going to throw it out."
"NO!" Collins shouted. "Are you fucking crazy? I'll eat it, toss it here."
Sha-wham! And the box landed in Collins' lap.
"Nice cartoon sound effect, Mark!" Roger complimented.
"Thanks, I've been working on it all week."
"Damn, boy, you have no life." Collins responded, ripping open the top seal of plastic bag containing the cereal.
Angel finally looked at Roger. "Roger, honey, be honest, did I hurt you?"
Roger sighed. "Yes, Angel. But I forgive you… because you are obviously sorry. Collins on the other hand, was laughing his ass off… because yes, putting Roger through excruciating pain is hilarious, isn't it, Thomas?"
"So damn hilarious…" The professor agreed, and Roger scowled. "Well, Roger, get your fast ass off the couch next time! I mean, we tried more peaceful measures, and it's not our fault you didn't heed."
Angel brightened a little. "Hey, Mimi will be here in a few minutes!"
"Fuck." Roger spat. "How the hell are we supposed to clean up this shithole in a few minutes?"
"Roger, you dumbass, we are not cleaning the loft. That's against our religion." Mark scolded.
"Alrighty, just let them think we live like animals, see if I care!" He shot back, obviously anxious about the visitors.
Collins meanwhile was staring down at the torn cardboard box in his hands. "HOLY SHIT!" he squealed.
"What?" The other three asked immediately.
"It says here: Win a vacation at Chitake Island Summer Resort in Florida!"
"Damn, who the hell would want to go to Shitcake Island?" Roger mused.
"Chi-TAKE, Roger!" Collins yelped excitedly. Then he continued to read. "See inside for details."
He proceeded to stuff his hands into the bag of stale cereal flinging bits of it in any given direction. Then in awe, his hands produced a small piece of paper.
"What the fuck?" Roger questioned, seeing the paper. "That box better say Choking Hazard or I'll get Joanne to sue Captain Crunch's fat blue ass!"
Collins, in complete awe, unfolded the paper.
Congratulations. You are a winner!
"HOLY CRUDMUFFINS!" Angel squealed, reading over Collins' shoulder, prompting several funny looks. "I mean, OH MY GOSH! COLLINS, YOU WON!"
"WHAT?" Roger and Mark exclaimed, standing up.
Collins' smile vanished. "Uh…. I won?"
"Nu-uh." Mark shook his head.
"Yes huh!" Collins said indignantly, waving the slip of paper around.
"NUH-UH!"
"YES HUH!"
"NUH-UH!"
"YES HUH!"
"NUH-UH!"
"YES FUCKING HUH, MARK!" Collins raged, shoving the evidence into Mark's face.
Mark slowly read the paper, as Roger approached from behind.
"Conn...gradd...you…latt-eye-ons…" Roger started to read.
"CONGRATULATIONS, Roger." Collins corrected.
"I SAID THAT!"
Mark meanwhile, had a murderous glint in his eye. "You… you…"
"Me? Me?" Collins said happily, "What, Mark? Aren't you going to congratulate me? I'm going to Chitake Island Resort!"
"No, you're not." Mark said, and he snatched the paper from Collins' fingers. "I am."
"You cannot have it, Mark!" Roger said, suddenly furious.
"And why not, Roger?"
"BECAUSE. I'm going, and that's final."
Angel meanwhile, shook her head and took out a nail file, busying herself with her fingernails.
Mark scoffed. "I think not, Roger Davis. I have the paper, and I'm going."
"I AM THE ONE WHO GOT IT, MARK LOUISE COHEN!" Collins shouted, spewing spit into Mark's face. "You were about to throw the damn cereal in the trash!"
He attempted to snatch the paper from Mark, but Mark was too quick.
"You've got it all wrong, Collins. It doesn't matter who got it… it's who calls this number…" He read the tiny scrap of paper. "And claims the prize that gets to go…"
And with that, Mark dove for the phone.
"NOOO!" There was a shout and a loud thud, as Roger sailed through the air and tackled Mark, sending the two of them sprawling to the ground.
"YES! It's mine, ROGER! And there's not a damn thing you can do about it!"
"Give me the paper, Mark. Don't make me hurt you." Roger said menacingly.
"I'm not afraid of you, Roger… you are obsessed with the ashes of your childhood teddy bear, for God's sake!"
"DON'T. YOU. DARE. BRING. HIM. INTO. THIS!" Roger roared, ripping the paper from Mark's hand. "I'm going to Shitcake Island, Mark… and you will not stop me."
"But I will." Collins said, standing over Roger as he rose from the floor.
Roger kissed the tiny piece of paper and laughed. "What are you going to do, Professor Collins? Throw a book at me?"
"Why…yes." And a decidedly thick encyclopedia flew through the air.
"How long have we had that?" Mark piped up.
Roger tumbled to the floor as the heavy book toppled him. "CURSE YOU, THOMAS B. COLLINS! YOU HAVE TAINTED MY SAINT-LIKE VISAGE WITH A CREASE THAT LOOKS ODDLY LIKE A BOOK!"
"Haha… that's what you get; Roger I-Steal-People's-Cereal-Box-Prizes-For-Kicks Davis!" Collins howled triumphantly, and regained the paper.
"Your celebratory shouts are misplaced, I'm afraid." A low, creepy, twisted version of Mark's voice sounded through the loft.
Collins turned.
Mark stood atop the metal table, looming over Collins. "SHA-BAM!" He yelled, doing a freakish karate kick and launching an aerial assault upon Collins.
He landed on top of Collins, prompting a loud OOMPF!
"Aw man… dammit, Mark… my spleen…" He gasped.
"To hell with it!" Mark said gleefully, taking the phone in one hand and starting to dial the number.
"Not so fast, Marky." Came Roger's voice. Roger swooped down upon the filmmaker, knocking the phone from his hand with a smile.
"You fiend!" Mark accused, hiding the treasured paper behind his back. "You will not stop me… I'm INVINCIBLE!"
Roger merely cocked an eyebrow before raising both of his arms over his head in arches, curving his fingers. He pulled back one of his legs, aiming for Mark and making a kung-fu karate-like scream.
"HI-YAH!" Mark yelled, pounding his fist into Roger's ribs.
Roger froze.
"Take that, you ROCK!" Mark said determinedly, his balled fists slamming into Roger's chest. "Haha, you cannot win!"
Roger merely smiled, bemused. "Damn, Mark. You really thought you could defeat me?"
Mark looked up, expecting to see Roger in pain, but merely saw a wicked grin.
"Oh shit…"
"Precisely." Roger replied, and with that said, he unfurled his arms and shoved Mark nearly six feet across the floor, simultaneously ripping the prize from his hand.
"And… dingding! Roger Davis takes the trophy!" He remarked, pressing the paper to his cheek.
But his triumph and victory were short-lived, as he heard a peculiar noise behind him.
He turned, shocked when the end of a long umbrella handle bonked his nose.
Collins stood, brandishing Mimi's leopard print umbrella at Roger. "Drop the paper and step out of your plaid pants."
"Damn, Collins… I'd never surrender my pants to you. The last time I did you put them in the wrong load of laundry and they faded pink!"
Collins shook his head. "Cut the crap, Davis and hand me the paper."
"NEVER!" Roger said protectively.
The professor's eyes widened. "Oh, now you'll be sorry."
A breath. Then…
"FLAME ON!"
Silence. A cricket chirped.
"DAMMIT, I thought I told that cricket to shut the fuck up!" Collins yelled.
Roger meanwhile, was clutching his sides with laughter. "Collins… the best… thing you can come…up with… to intimidate me… is… FLAME ON?"
"Oh, like you can talk, Rog. You're such an eloquent speaker."
"Hell yes, I'm a songwriter. Words are my game."
Collins lowered the umbrella. "And I'm a teacher. Do you know how many essays I grade?"
Roger shrugged. "I could still come up with a better catchphrase. I mean, Flame on? Dude, that's totally taken!"
"Who gives a shit?"
"Uh… the Human Torch?"
"Shut up, Mr. Poetic. You cannot do squat with words!"
"Uh… hello? Does the song Your Eyes ring a bell?"
Collins burst out laughing. "Oh Roger… Your Eyes was nothing, man. Nothing. I could've eaten a bowl of alphabet soup and crapped out a better song."
"Oh, is that how you're gonna play now?" Roger said, eyes flashing madly.
"If that's how you wish it to be, Davis."
Roger pounced, but Collins merely konked him in the head with the umbrella.
"OW!" Roger squealed, rubbing his hair. Tears sprung into the rocker's eyes. "You just killed a shitload of brain cells, man."
Collins snatched up the tiny piece of paper with a smirk. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was under the impression that you had none of those left."
Roger glared. "I'll get you for that."
"No, it is I that will get you, Collins!" And then Mark was with them again. "I WILL STICK AN AX IN YOUR HEAD!"
Collins looked around. "I see no ax, Mark. What ax?"
"What ax? What ax, you ax?" Roger said from the floor. Collins swung the umbrella at him.
"Ow…"
"I will…." Mark stopped, flustered. "Oh yeah? Well, I'll… I'll… I'LL FILM YOU!"
He held up his camera as if it were a terrible weapon.
"Oh no… don't take a wrong step or Mark'll wind up his Rolex and exact his revenge!" Collins said, laughing.
Mark, thoroughly upset, dove for Collins. "Gimme it!"
"NO!" Collins roared, and he moved out of the way, sending Mark falling through open space. He crashed onto the floor, moaning.
"Haha, that's what you get, you pumpkin-headed albino…"
BANG!
Roger jumped in front of the fallen Mark, clanging two kitchen pans together. "Behold, I am Roger, conqueror of Shitcake Island. Bask in my holy glory… bask in it and FEAARRRRR MEEEEE!"
Collins laughed. "Dude, you need some professional help!"
"Ah, but it is you that will be needing the help when I am finished here!" Roger said, making his voice go unnaturally low.
"Roger… seriously man, stop it. Your lack of brain cells is frightening."
"DO NOT SPEAK OR YOU SHALL BE SMITED!"
"Roger…"
"SMITING!" And then, Roger clapped the pans together, doing an odd ninja-esque kick. He then attempted to bring Collins to the floor.
The bigger man laughed deeply. "You entertain me."
"Shut up!"
"It's my vacation, Roger. I won it fair and square."
"Yeah? Well…. your feet stink!"
"And you're threatening me with random kitchen tools." Collins pointed out.
"Is that a problem?"
"Roger Davis, step aside before you force me to do something I'd really rather not do."
"Really?"
"No, I think it would be fucking hilarious."
Roger stood his ground, so Collins opened his jacket, pulling a small cylinder from his pocket. "A choice has been made. Say goodnight, young man!"
And he unsheathed a brilliantly… plastic toy lightsaber.
Roger stared, dumbfounded. "Collins, I don't know what your problem is, but I'm sure it's long and hard to pronounce."
Collins raised the blade to Roger's throat. "Silence or Eradication. Choose."
"Collins…"
"Alright… eradication it is."
He swung and Roger ducked, grabbing the tall man's legs and pulling him over.
Argh! Collins stumbled and fell atop Mark.
"HAHAHA! I WIN!"
"Uh… Dumbass Davis? I still have the paper."
"Damn." Roger cursed, as Collins laughed, climbing off of the heavily-bruised filmmaker beneath him. "I hate you."
Collins smiled toothily. "It's because I'm black, isn't it?"
"Hell no. I have no prejudices. I believe in equal hatred for all."
Collins held the paper high above his head as he sensed Roger's leap.
"Nyahnyahnyah nyah!" He teased.
But then… the smell of smoke wafted to their nostrils, and a loud BAM! erupted throughout the loft.
"What the…?" Roger began.
Collins slumped his shoulders mournfully as Angel ran toward the source of the commotion, the kitchen. "There goes my turkey club."
"Guys, could you quit acting like complete and utter asses long enough to help my put out this fire?" Angel called sweetly.
"FIRE?????????!!!" Mark was suddenly fully standing, frantic.
"Relax… it's just the hot plate." Collins said. "I was making my turkey sandwich and…"
"Whoawhoawhoa…. wait a minute. And WHY were you trying to cook a sandwich on our hot plate?"
"Uh… it sounded fun?"
"COLLINS!" Mark yelled. "You BLEW UP the fucking hot plate!"
"Sorry!" Collins shielded his face with his hands in shame.
"My mother got that for me last year!" Mark said sadly, as Angel ran by, toting the charred remains of the hot plate. She scurried into the bathroom and threw it into the bathtub, pouring water over it.
"Uh… new flash: NO ONE CARES!"
"Real mature, Roger. What is this, second grade?"
Collins spoke up, "EVERYONE JUST PLEASE! Stop. We need to figure out what we're going to do, we have no hot plate, no food… and Mimi'll be here any second with her Mother and Father."
"Is there a problem, guys?" A sweet, feminine voice called. There in the doorway to the loft, stood Mimi Marquez, closely followed by a man and woman, who looked sorely confused.
"MIMI! SHIT!" The three men yelled, as Angel ran out of the bathroom to hug her best friend.
"Mimi, chica… you won't believe what happened…"
Mimi broke free of Angel's arms and approached Roger. "Roger, baby, what the hell did you do to your back?"
Angel looked guilty as Mimi eyed the reddish wounds showing through Roger's shirt.
Roger twiddled his thumbs, looking nervous. "Um… hey Meems… say, you look hot! Are you a parking ticket? Because you've got FINE written all over you."
"Oh God… stop it now." Mimi said quickly, nauseated. "Why are you using stupid pick-up lines on me?"
"It's a nervous habit… I can't seem to kick it."
"And what the hell is going on in this LOFT?!!" Mimi yelled. "I leave for a couple hours to get my parents, and everything goes out the window."
"Nah, Meems, only the hot plate went out the window." Angel remarked, rubbing her palms together and leaving the windowsill.
"YOU THREW THE HOT PLATE OUT THE WINDOW?"
Angel shrunk back. "It seemed like the right idea at the time."
"Owww…. my head….!" They heard from below.
Mimi threw her hands to her sides. "Forget it, I should have known…"
Mimi's parents, who Roger knew spoke little English, continued to stare, bewildered at the scene.
Mimi brushed Roger's shirt gently and sighed. "Why were you guys at each other throats?"
"Mimi, how long were you standing there?" Mark said, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose.
"Long enough."
"Well you see, Collins won this vacation to Shitcake Island…" Roger started.
"Collins??!!" Mimi said excitedly, "You won a vacation! To… Shitcake Island?"
She scrunched up her nose.
"Chitake Island Summer Resort." Collins said proudly.
"WOW!" Mimi exclaimed. "That's so exciting! You're so lucky, Collins, congratulations!" Then she narrowed her eyes. "Oh God, lemme guess you all were fighting over it?"
All three looked at their feet.
"I cannot believe this." Mimi sighed again. She stuck out her hand. "Collins, show me the paper."
Collins lowered the paper from out of Roger's reach, but held it to his heart defensively. "No."
"I just want to SEE it." Mimi insisted.
"No."
"COLLINS! GIVE ME THE PAPER!"
Scared now, he let her snatch it.
She quickly scanned over the paper, shaking her head. "Oh my God… you guys… what the hell? You are all DUMBASSES!"
"What?" Roger said, looking hurt.
"It says: Congratulations! You are a winner! You and up to ten friends are going to Chitake Island Summer Resort in Florida. Call this number to claim your prize."
Silence. A cricket chirped.
"CURSE YOU, CRICKET! I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND GUT YOU LIKE A FISH!" Collins screamed.
Meanwhile, Roger and Mark stared at the floor, abashed. "Oh."
Mimi hugged them. "But guys, don't you see what this means?"
Roger, now with a seriously damaged self esteem level, sighed. "That we're stupid?"
"Well… yeah… but guys! We're going on vacation!"
"Wheee!" Mark squealed and he did a little jig. Everyone stared at him. "Sorry."
"Mimi, hija, qué pasa?" Mimi's mother stepped in, and her father followed suit.
"Oh, Mamá!" Mimi exclaimed. "It's so exciting! Mis amigos y yo vamos a viajar para vacaciones!"
"Qué fantastico!" The woman, who looked amazingly similar to Mimi, gushed. Her father smiled at her.
"Sí, qué magnifico!" Mimi smiled. "It's been way too long since I've had a nice relaxing break."
Collins and Mark shuffled away, following Angel into the kitchen.
"New York siempre está aburrido."
"Aburrido?"
"Sí. Muy aburrido."
Roger, who had been standing silently, finally spoke up. "Burritos? I love burritos!" He exclaimed.
Mimi's parents chuckled softly as Mimi rolled her eyes. "Recuerdes a mi novio, Roger?"
"Of course, mi hija, of course we remember Roger." Her father smiled. "You spoke of him so much whenever you called." His accent was so thick, Roger could hardly understand him.
Mimi's mother was still laughing. "Un chico muy guapo."
"What's so funny, Mimi?" Roger, not liking the idea of another blow to his self-confidence.
Mimi took his hand in hers and squeezed. "Oh, baby… aburrido is the Spanish word for boring… I was just telling Mamá and Papá that I'm getting bored of the same old New York City."
"Oh…" Roger said distantly, as he tried to remember what little Spanish he'd picked up from Mimi. "Estoy embarazada ahora."
Pride filled him as he realized that he'd pronounced every word correctly.
Which is why he was quite perturbed when they all began to laugh, this time harder.
"Damn it, what now?" Roger mumbled.
"How peculiar." Mimi's mother said through her laughter.
"Mimi…" Roger whined to his laughing girlfriend.
Mimi, eyes shining, kissed Roger's cheek. "Oh baby… you just said… you didn't say you were embarrassed, Roger."
"Then what the hell did I say?" Honest confusion whirled through Roger.
"Baby, embarazada means pregnant."
Blushing madly, Roger quickly said, "Wow…uh… okay then… no embarazada!"
Mimi smiled and her parents accepted this response.
Then Mark stepped into the room. "Uh, hey guys, I hate to interrupt, but Collins just called the number on the paper… and we're getting picked up tomorrow. They're renting us a HUGE car!"
"Hey guys." A voice said. Beside Roger stood Benny.
"When did you get here?" Roger sounded angry.
"Just a few minutes ago. Alison kicked me out."
"Big surprise." Mimi said with a grin.
Roger, however was not amused. "Who let you in here?"
"The door was open."
"Damn it."
"Well, guys… I'd better get packing…" Benny changed the subject.
"Uh… hello? What gave you the impression that we wanna see your ugly mug on Shitcake Island?!!!!!" Roger yelled.
"I'm going with you guys! It's going to be great, huh?"
"Oh no you're not!"
"Yes, I am."
"Angel said I could!"
"ANGEL!" Roger screamed.
Angel entered, smiling. "What? It seemed like the nice thing to do."
Groaning, Roger slapped his forehead.
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So… off to "Shitcake" Island Summer Resort.
Don't you just love the Bohos? ;)
I hope to write more very soon…
P.S. --Hopefully any Spanish I used here didn't throw you off. I made it so you could basically tell what they were saying... at least I think I did. (shrugs)
Review please... no flames.
