Jack Spicer went to a family barbeque. It wasn't up to him. It was at his house and his parents were hosting. It was dull, slow and agonizing. Misery.
But other than that.
It was sunshine and hamburgers and drunk adults.
A lot of his relatives showed up. He didn't know their names or where they came from. His dad's high school buddies came as well, already carrying beers.
Wuya followed him around, hanging herself in the air, mistaken for a hideous lawn ornament. Probably very expensive, antique from China. One of the father's expeditions, no doubt. No mistaking it.
And even though she gurgled and hissed and spat, no one could tell the difference between her disembodied soul and the lawn gnomes. Jack was amused, so she went back into hiding.
The other children ran and jumped and screeched. He was reminded of his monkey staff and couldn't make up his mind on which group was more dangerous. Monkies or children.
He almost wanted to stand by his mother, but, he'd outgrown that. Nobody else was hanging off of their mom, nobody else was sitting in the corner.
It was awkward. He was used to the feeling. The kids acting like kids, the adults acting like adults. No wonder he didn't want to talk to anyone or even try. They were all idiots, foaming and buzzing and drinking and scratching their beer guts. Disgusting.
As if it couldn't get any worse, some one set up a volleyball net. This would be the last time the net would be used until next year, on the same date. Then it would go into hibernation again and wait. The cycle was eternal.
Jack went inside. He closed the door behind him and slid down the walls into the basement.
"How was it without me Jack?"
"Hell, Wuya, Hell."
She grinned. "I've been to Hell Jackie. That is no Hell."
He put his goggles on. If she was telling the truth, he couldn't be sure. It certainly was plausible.
He stayed and worked and sat and thought and, ohh maaan. It was dark out and he heard people crying.
"Fireworks, fireworks!"
Even in the basement, in the ground, the noise was loud and the lights were bright, blaring, glaring, blinding. A reminder. Jack rolled his eyes and almost covered his ears. Almost.
And he wished the day would end, even if the seizure in the sky continued past midnight.
And he wished he was somewhere else, where people didn't act like five year olds, drooling on their sweaty t-shirts and and he wished. He wished.
If Chase Young was here, if I was there, ohh please, someone, let me be there and we could be happy and full and satisfied and the world, the world, would be empty and a goner. And we could be alone and naked and pure and nice. Nice, so nice it would be. Could be. Ohh please, someone let it be.
"Hey, Wuya, let's go shoot some fireworks off at the neighbors."
Happy Fourth of July everyone. :D
Xiaolin Showdown and said characters belong to their creators.