Strong Bad flipped through the pristine pages of Strong Sad's collector's edition Dungeons and Dragons manual. Last he checked, his brother was out at one of his lame nerd meetings. Thank goodness, because he'd hate for someone to catch him reading one of these things.
But this game was based on real witchcraft and stuff, right? That's what all hype over it was about. They even made an 80's movie involving Tom Hanks based on how evil this stuff was, so it had to be true.
He flipped through it boredly. The descriptions sucked. Maybe this wasn't gonna be as productive as he'd hoped. "Levitation, leomund's tiny hut... what the crap, no love potions? Seriously, the people who play this game need that kind of thing more than anyone and they don't even have an entry for it."
He continued his flipping in peace for a few minutes.
"You know, if you're looking for a love potion, you coulda asked," Strong Sad suggested over his shoulder. "I hate when you break into my room..."
"Wuah!" Strong Bad tossed the book aside and hopped to his feet. "And I hate it when you sneak up on me when I'm breaking into your room. Jeez, you could at least knock."
"...it's my room."
"Yeah, well... so?" Strong Bad cleared his throat. "Anyway I totally wasn't looking for a love potion and even if I was I wouldn't ask you of all people. I'm outta here." He pushed past his brother, making sure to plant a foot on the apparently useless book on his way out.
"Darn. I was hoping to try it out," Strong Sad muttered. He picked up his book, nose wrinkled with disdain.
Strong Bad paused. "Try what out?"
"My love potion. Well, not my love potion, but a love potion ... well, spell ... kind of a combo of both ... out..." He shrugged. "Oh well. Probably mumbo jumbo anyway."
"You have a love potion." Strong Bad raised an eyebrow at him . "Seriously?" He folded his arms thoughtfully. "...you know, if you need like... a test subject, I think I have a few... or one, in mind. Just to you know, see how much you got ripped off on that thing."
Strong Sad raised an eyebrow. "It's a set of instructions, really ... there's a ceremony, some chants ... you need some of the person's hair, and an article of clothing... very detailed stuff. It's very difficult to cast. But if you're really that desperate to get Marzipan to notice you... I probably... I could help."
Strong Bad considered it. On one hand... performing chants and ceremonies and collecting people's hair in order to steal Homestar's girlfriend could potentially be fun in an evil sorcerer, dark arts kind of way. On the other hand, it involved Strong Sad.
"I'm not desperate," Strong Bad huffed, unfolding his arms. "But I am bored. Fine, I'll help. But if this turns out to be a waste of my time, you're getting a swirlee you won't soon forget."
He winced. "I can't promise it'll work. I mean ... it should, it's very ancient. I found it on eBay."
"Great, so it has to be at least two weeks old," Strong Bad replied flatly. "Whatever, man. Let's get started. I have things to burn and sticks to hang out at."
Strong Sad gave a weak grin. "All right. First we need..."
It turned out that getting started was going to be an issue. The two of them spent upwards of two weeks stalking Marzipan, pulling strands of her hair from her couch, stealing her clothes from the line out back of her house, drawing prayer circles in the grass by her front steps. At week two, Strong Sad slumped down on the basement couch. "Okay. One last step and we're good. This should be it, and tonight's the night."
He pawed through his backpack and held up a dark green bottle. "This is the potion itself. We sprinkle a little on the collected items..." He motioned to them on the floor by his feet; a few scraps of paper with her handwriting on it, her lipstick, strands of hair, and bits of cloth from her clothing. "...and pour the rest into something. She needs to ingest it before the next full moon."
"The next full moon, eh? Hmm... maybe we can like, invite her over in some inconspicuous, seemingly benign way so that she'll never suspect we're up to something," Strong Bad pondered for a moment. Inviting Marzipan over alone might be a little too obvious, especially after all the stalking they'd been doing over the last few weeks. "I'm thinking party. Parties are the best cover for everything."
"Mom will kill you if you try to throw a party here," Strong Sad frowned. "Remember last time when you got so drunk you threw up in her hamper thinking it was the toilet...?"
"Uh, no I don't remember. I was... drunk. But if Strong Mad's underwear were in there, I could see how I might think it was the toilet," Strong Bad muttered. "All right all right, no party. Maybe we can... I dunno, make her some melonade and bring it over. That's not suspicious. Much."
"Maybe I can bring it over. She hates you," he pointed out. "She might think you poisoned it. Which we sort of did."
"We did not poison it, we potioned it. Totally different." Strong Bad tapped his chin. "Okay. We'll do it your way. I'll hang back while you deliver the goods, and then I'll make my move to see if it worked. And it better work- two freakin' weeks, man! This stuff had better be epic-effective."
"She has to drink all of it. It'll take a few days," he pointed out. "But it should at least get her thinking about you ... which could lead to other things, I suppose."
"Yeah, like dumping lamebrain and getting with me, the clearly superior choice," Strong Bad snorted. "Well, what are you doing sitting there, fatty? Go make my melonade. This has already taken forever and a day. Those 'few more' need to get started pronto. I want to see results already."
Strong Sad sent him a glare, but did as he was instructed. No use arguing with Strong Bad, afterall; he was impatient. But still...
He sighed. At least he was getting to test out the spell. Potion. Ceremony. Whatever. It would be nice to know that the positive feedback he gave the seller was well-deserved.
He delivered the melonade before the night was over, much to the recipient's dismay.
"Oh ... melonade," Marzipan grinned, trying to sound chipper. "Thanks so much, Strong Sad. I'll get the container back to you as soon as I'm done."
"Oh, don't worry about it. You can keep the pitcher," Strong Sad replied. He wasn't sure how well love potions washed out of plastic pitchers, but figured it was worth the five bucks for a new one not to risk it. "Just... make sure you drink it all."
"Uh ... okay...?" she said, giving him a quizzical look. She closed the door and grimaced at the pitcher. "Ugh. I hate melonade."
"Melonade?" Homestar chirped hopefully, lifting his head from the couch. "You made melonade?"
"No, Strong Sad did," Marzipan sighed. "Oh well, I suppose I can always use the container." She glanced over at her boyfriend. "Do you want it? I'd hate to just dump it down the sink."
He grinned. "Heck yeah I do." He stood up and hopped over the couch like it was a hurdle. "You never make me melonade anymore."
"That's because you really don't need all that sugar," Marzipan pointed out. "It's bad for your teeth and can lead to diabetes. Not to mention it goes right through you anyway."
"...but it tastes good," Homestar giggled. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek while he took the pitcher out of her hand. "Thanks even though ... you didn't ... make it." He furrowed his brow. "Ah, whatever. Thanks."
"You're welcome," Marzipan smiled, chuckling. He was so easy to please, it was cute. "Drink that in the kitchen, though. I don't want you spilling on the carpet."
"Gaaahhh, fine," he muttered, wandering to the kitchen. Over the course of the night he managed to sneak a glass here and there until he drank it all. He frowned and shook the empty pitcher.
"...whups." He bit his nails and filled it halfway up with water before sticking it back into the fridge. There, now Marzipan won't know he drank it all. Foolproof. He tilted his head. Now if only the pitcher wasn't see through she'd be totally fooled.
"Whatever," he snorted. He closed the fridge and bounced back into the living room. He nudged his half-awake girlfriend with his foot and smirked. "Come onnnn. You can't be asleep already. It's only like... it's barely dark out." Nevermind that it was pushing midnight. He nudged her again. "Come on."
He frowned. This was not working, but he knew what would. He giggled and sidled up beside her, smirking a bit before he kissed her neck. "Come on, you said tonight was gonna be fun."
Marzipan muttered and waved him off, sitting up. "Homestar, I'm tired..." she yawned a bit. "What time is it?"
He tapped his chin. "Time for bed," he giggled, ignoring her protests. He cuddled up against her and pouted. "Come on it's been like ... it's been a long time. Pleeeeease?"
She sighed. A long time for Homestar was more like a few days, but he'd been behaving himself lately. "Maybe if you brush your teeth- your breath smells like melonade."
He grinned weakly. "Heh ... y-yeah, okay gonna go ... do that. Don't like ... change your mind or anything," he ordered, sternly. Well, as sternly as Homestar could. It came out more like a two year old giving orders than an actual demand.
"I won't," Marzipan promised, watching him rush off with an amused glance over her shoulder.
Homestar brushed his teeth as he was instructed, but stopped to do some minor clean-up duty on his hair. He mussed it up and combed it with his fingers. He gave his reflection a satisfied smirk and a cheesy thumbs up. "You are going to get laid tonight, you know that?"
He paused.
"Heck yeah, I know that. Of course I freakin' am, I'm Homestar." He sighed, amused. "Duh. Goes without saying."
He popped into the living room, but it appeared that Marzipan had relocated to the bedroom. He stopped by her door, glancing up at his hair and frowning before he tore off his hat and shirt. Whatever. You didn't need good hair all the time.
Marzipan was sitting on the bed in a purple nightgown. She giggled when Homestar showed up shirtless. "C'mere, ya goofball." She patted the bed beside her.
Like he needed the invite. Homestar jumped on the bed, landing on his knees. "This is totally the best Tuesday ever."
"Mmhm." She wrapped her arms around his neck with a smile and kissed him. "Much better."
He giggled and kissed her back, hands finding their way to the edge of the very pretty but incredibly hindering nightgown. He pulled it up over her head and let out a soft, shuddering moan when her hands grazed his hips.
"Mmm, Strong Bad," he murmured, lips meeting hers again. He seemed oblivious to the error.
Marzipan was not quite so oblivious. She pushed him away a bit, narrowing her eyes at him. "-what?"
"...what do you mean what? What's wrong?" He furrowed his brow, confused.
"You just said 'Strong Bad'," Marzipan replied flatly.
He blinked at her. "...what? No I didn't."
"I'm sure you did," she said, annoyed. "Homestar, if you're going to make this weird then tonight is off."
"I swear I didn't! Why would I call out Strong Bad's name? He's ..." He winced, face going red. Kinda hot.
He shook his head. What? No. That's not right.
"He's a guy. He's ... he's STRONG BAD. No. You musta heard wrong," he insisted, grabbing her hand. He grinned weakly making an 'x' over his heart. "I promise, no weird stuff."
Marzipan frowned. "...all right." She kissed him again, though the mood had been a little put off by that interruption.
Homestar kissed her back and for a while things went according to plan. In fact it was all fine until they were done. He panted and pulled the sheets over them, wrapping his arms around her.
He let out a sigh and nuzzled into her neck. "Oh god, Strong Bad, that was amazing." He blinked. Wait. That didn't sound right. Rewind, repeat. Did he just say...?
"Strong Bad?" Marzipan blinked and then glared at him, shoving him away. "All right, that's it- out."
He winced. "That's not what ... I mean, you kno..." He gave her a puppy dog pout, but it was apparently too late for that tactic. He groaned and grabbed his pants. Guess that ruled out wake-up sex.
He got dressed and let himself out, frowning. Strong Bad? Of all the names to gravitate towards ... Strong Bad?
He shuddered. He was cool and everything, but that just wasn't the way Homestar swung. His brain seemed to disagree. He poked the side of his head. "Listen, head, if you ever wanna get sex again, you better quit that."
A few more jabs. "Seriously. Not cool."
Try as he might to sway it, his brain just was not into cooperating. What was left of the night passed uneasily for him once he returned to his own bed. It was filled with strange, vague dreams that definitely did not involve Marzipan. And it only got worse when he woke up- or at least, thought he woke up sometime the next day. Because he did not wake up alone.
Yes, clearly Homestar's imagination had gone completely crazy, because the hand sporting a red, fingerless glove that was resting on his chest was very familiar.
Homestar scrunched his eyes shut, but when he dared to open one again the hand was still there. "GAH!"
He squirmed away, pulling the sheet up to make himself more decent. "STRONG BAD GET OUT OF MY BED. AND MY HEAD."
The Strong Bad figment propped himself up and pulled at Homestar's sheets, snickering. "Oh come on, man, you want me here. I'm totally the most interesting thing in your head anyway. Maybe even the only thing."
Homestar reddened unintentionally. "That's not true! I think about plenty of ... not-you..thi... GET OUT." He threw a pillow at his head.
The hallucination knocked it aside and smirked. "You wanna play rough, huh?" He sneered, fighting the twisted sheets until he had Homestar pinned. He leaned close and grinned. "I'm not goin' anywhere." With that, he leaned in and kissed him.
And then Homestar woke up. Again.
He grabbed his pillow, bit into it and shrieked. What the crap was going on?
First the whole ... calling out Strong Bad's name during his time with Marzipan, and now this. He let out a whimper and glanced at the clock. Pushing 6 am. Go back to bed or wake up for the day?
He was tired, but on the other hand ... he winced. Sex dreams about Strong Bad. No. There so did not need to be a part two. He swung his legs over the bed and sighed. "It's gonna be a long day," he muttered, slipping on his bunny slippers.
And it was. He almost fell asleep three or four times at work. Staring at a computer was boring, boring, boring work. He sighed and closed his eyes again.
"Hey, moron-" Someone flicked the back of his head, interrupting his brief lapse into exhausted unconsciousness. Actually, flicked was too mild of a term. It was more of a hard 'thwack.' "I asked you a question."
Strong Bad was leaning against the edge of his cubicle just, just within thwacking distance thanks to the ruler he was holding.
"Hrrm?" Homestar glanced over his shoulder, blanching. He practically jumped out of his chair, backing into his desk. He went from pale to bright red in record time. "Wh-what, what is it, what. I'm busy. What."
Strong Bad wrote it off as his neighbor's usual weirdness for now and repeated his previous inquiry. "I said how's your girlfriend doing. Did she dump you again yet?" He knew that potion was supposed to take a couple of days, but he couldn't resist his curiosity.
He went impossibly redder. "Of course sh-she didn't but that's not ...work ... appropriate conv..." Stop staring at his freaking hips already, idiot. He shook his head and averted his eyes. "...d...don't you have work to do?"
Strong Bad raised an eyebrow at him. "Uh... no." He snorted. "I'm on break. Jeez, who slipped the sanka into your OJ today, dude." Of course he'd been 'on break' most of the morning, but that was beside the point.
He still refused to look at him. "W-well, I'm not, so I gotta get back to work. So if you could just..." He shooed him with one hand.
Strong Bad shook his head, puzzled. Heck, if Homestar wanted to avoid him, he wasn't going to argue.
He retreated to his own cubicle so as to continue his all-important slacking. Eventually he did get around to finishing the data entries he'd been assigned before lunch.
Homestar slumped at his desk, twitchy and jittery. He slammed his head against the keyboard. This was turning out to be the worst Wednesday ever.
He frowned and tried to focus on work. At least I'm awake now, he thought bitterly. He glared at his screen. Insanely turned on, but awake.
Hopefully Marzipan would forgive him soon for the atrocious name mix-up and he wouldn't have to spend the next few days scrounging around his attic for his rarely used girly mags. They lived in hiding thanks to Marzipan's complete and utter disgust with the idea. He tried explaining to her that it was just fantasy, but that earned him a slap in the face.
He sighed. Fantasy. It was so much easier as a teenager, when just the thought of a half naked girl was enough to get off to. Since introducing actual sex into his life, things were much more enjoyable but also more complicated.
He shook his head. Work was not the best time to be thinking about porn.
The rest of the work day passed fairly uneventfully for everyone. Strong Bad enjoyed a blissfully uninterrupted afternoon devoid of annoying idiots, and spent nearly all of that extra time imagining how he would ask Marzipan out once she got around to dumping her previous boyfriend. He hoped Homestar's weird behavior was a sign that all was progressing according to plan. He almost felt bad for the guy. Having one's girlfriend stolen out from under you had to suck.
The pity was fleeting. Strong Bad swaggered up to his brother once his shift was over to boast about his observations. "I think that potion is totally working already. Homestar's been flipping out all day and I'm pretty sure he and Marzi got in a fight or something. He looks like he hasn't slept at all."
Strong Sad glanced up from his screen, having had his computer encounter an error when he tried to log out. Or log off. He wasn't sure which one he should be doing. "He seemed okay to me, just a little tired."
"Are you kidding? He was practically jumping out of his skin every time I- oh hey, here. Check this out." He yanked the power cord out of the back of the computer to solve Strong Sad's error issue and motioned for him to pay attention. He called out to Homestar as he passed by the cubicle. "Hey, Homestar! Where are you going in such a hurry?"
Strong Sad frowned at his computer briefly, before glancing up at Homestar. Homestar, who did in fact look ready to jump out of his skin.
He winced and kept his eyes straight ahead, face turning noticeably red. "G-gotta get these files to Pom Pom by 5."
Strong Bad flashed a triumphant smirk at his brother before clearing his throat. "Ah, yeah you got like five minutes and his office is right there. I think you'll make it. Didn't see you at lunch today, you fall asleep at your computer again or what?"
Homestar's face flushed some more and he gripped onto the folders he was carrying. "I really gotta go," he blurted, rushing off.
Strong Sad raised an eyebrow. "That was weird."
"Yeah, I know." Strong Bad snorted. "Seriously, you didn't notice? He's been like that all friggen day." He folded his arms over his chest. "Wish they'd break up already. Maybe you're right though, it probably needs another day to finish working."
"Yeah," Strong Sad muttered, staring off in the direction Homestar ran. He turned back to his brother. "Yeah, I mean, it takes a while to drink a whole gallon of melonade." He got up from his desk. "Come on, you don't wanna miss the bus again, do you?"
"Ugh, no. I hate walking," Strong Bad agreed, heading out. "Do you think she has my number? Just in case, I mean... I don't remember if it's unlisted or not."
Strong Sad rolled his eyes. "I'm sure she has your number. She calls me all the time."
"Why would she call you?" Strong Bad muttered. Why anyone would call Strong Sad was beyond him, come to think of it. Unless they maybe needed some advice on being a nerd. "Wait, you mean on purpose or by accident?"
"On purpose. We happen to be part of the same poetry club, you know," Strong Sad remarked, visibly offended.
"Oh right, that... thing." Strong Bad shrugged it off. "Whatever. Once she's head over heels in love with me she won't have time for any of that lame crap."
He sighed. "It's not going to change her personality, you know."
"I didn't say it would. It's just gonna be kind of hard to keep a regular schedule for that stuff when we'll be busy... going on vacations to Paris and makin' out in jaccuzzis." He smirked and pointed to himself. "I will totally be her poetic inspiration from now on. She won't even need a club."
He wrinkled his nose. Poetry about Strong Bad. "I think if you were her inspiration, we'd kick her out of the club."
"All the more time for us to- hey," Strong Bad growled and punched his brother in the shoulder.
Strong Sad winced and rubbed it, pulling away. "Don't get your hopes too high. 'Be careful what you wish for' and all that stuff... it might not be as great as you think it's gonna be."
"Strong Sad, this is why nobody likes you, man. You always gotta point out how awful everything might be, or could be. It's really, really annoying. You're the worlds biggest friggen wet blanket. I will take any form of that potion working over nothing. Even if it just ends up being her answering my phone calls and not slamming the door in my face, that is all the head start I need. There is nothing not-great about that." The hydraulic brakes of their bus screeched as it pulled up to the bus stop, bringing the conversation to an effective halt for now.
Strong Sad glanced at his brother and sighed. "I'm just saying that being realistic for once wouldn't kill you," he muttered, following him onto the bus.
-
"Let's be realistic, here, Homestar..." Pom Pom sighed, dropping the folders onto his desk that the aforementioned employee had come rushing into his office with moments ago. "It's clear to me that you didn't put your usual effort into these monthly reports. There's... major spelling errors, omissions, and it looks like you didn't even finish typing several sentences. I can't send this out."
Homestar tapped his fingers together. "Y-yeah, I know. It's crap. I'm really sorry, Pom Pom, I've been..." He glanced out the window at the bus stop, where Strong Bad had been just a moment ago. He blushed and looked away. "I've been in a weird mood all day. I don't know. I promise I'll come in early Friday and fix it up."
"I'm not that worried about the reports. I can get somebody else to do them if you think you need some time off..." He folded his hands on the desk and regarded Homestar, concerned at his unusually poor performance. He got this kind of thing from Strong Bad a lot- usually accompanied by every excuse in the book, but Homestar was generally reliable. "Everything okay?"
He grinned weakly. "Everything's fine. I think. I'm just stressed. But I can do it." He frowned. "It wouldn't be fair to dump them on someone else. That's my job. I can do it, I promise. I just need a few more days."
"From the look of it you could use some sleep, too," Pom Pom noted. "I'll tell you what, you go home and get a nap, okay? And if you need some time to wind down later tonight after that nap, come out to the bowling alley. We're having kind of a company thing out there... might help you get your mind off whatever's bothering you. Plus I could really use you on my team."
"Sounds fun," Homestar sighed. "It'd be nice to get my mind off some things. I'll call you later, Pom Pom."
He gave him a wave and turned to leave. Right. Some sleep. Sleep is good.
Sleep was good in theory. Homestar wasn't used to sleeping during the day, so actually getting to sleep was a chore. He had to rearrange his blinds to dim the light and pull a pillow over his head just to block the everyday sounds of the neighborhood. It always seemed that the more tired one was, the harder it was to sleep.
But sleep came soon enough. He groaned and rolled over, absently pulling the pillow from over his head.
"Welcome back," a familiar voice purred as its owner started playing with his hair.
Homestar's eyes snapped open. You've gotta be kidding me. He shut them as tightly as he could and pulled the pillow back over his head. "No."
"Yes," the not-Strong Bad chuckled. He yanked the pillow away and tossed it in the corner.
He sat up and glared at him. "NOT yes," he hissed, jabbing him in the chest. "Very not yes."
"Says the guy who couldn't keep his eyes off me all day," the imposter mused. "Jeez, when are you gonna ask me out already? You've fantasized about me enough, haven't you?"
"If I asked the real you out, he'd break my nose," Homestar pointed, annoyed. "...not that I want to. Look, I'm trying to sleep and you're making it extremely hard to sleep. So either turn into Marzipan or my super hot English teacher from sixth grade or go home." He pointed to the door ... or rather, where the door would have been. It appeared to be missing. "...huh?"
"Through the wall, eh," the Strong Bad-that-wasn't raised an eyebrow at him. "I told you, I'm not goin' anywhere. So as long as we're stuck here, and as long as... you're clearly more interested in me than any hot English teachers or old girlfriends... " he snickered and leaned against him, grazing his fingers across his chest. "We might as well make the best of it."
He smacked his hand away, blushing furiously. "No means no," he huffed, grabbing his other pillow. He stomped over to the corner and sat down, glaring at the not-Strong Bad from his new spot on the floor. "This is weird, distracting, nauseating and just ... you're ruining my life, weird Strong Bad fantasy thing. Go away." He made a shooing motion with his hand. Worked on the real one, anyway.
It didn't seem as effective on this one, unfortunately. "Nauseating?" He scoffed. "Are you kidding? I am totally hot. As an official figment of your imagination, I've seen how you look at me. And I'm not the one ruining your life, man. You are for trying to ignore how you feel about me." He slipped out of bed to join Homestar on the floor. He then folded his arms over his chest and flashed him a mischeivous grin. "Yanno, for the record? It's not cheating on your girlfriend, either, if you're making out with me in your imagination. Just sayin'."
Homestar wretched. "Not interested. For your information, I haven't had a sex dream about anyone but Marzi since I started dating her. Clearly, it's true love. I'm not about to break that streak now."
Strong Bad laughed. "Okay first of all, three words for you: hot English teacher. You might have been drunk, but that totally counts. Second of all, that's not true love, dude... that's more like a lack of experience."
"...that wasn't a sex dream, that was ... a rerun," Homestar insisted stubbornly. "And it is true love. You're just trying to screw with my head."
"I'd rather screw with something else if you know what I mean," he replied suggestively. "Besides, If she was your true love, you wouldn't have said my name while you two were getting it on."
Homestar reddened and scooched away. "Th-there's a good reason for that. I just haven't thought of it yet."
"Darn right there's a good reason," Strong Bad grinned. "Deep down you know I'm way more exciting than she could ever be." He scooted closer to him again. "Quit runnin' away and I'll show you what I'm talking about."
"N-no means no," Homestar laughed nervously, backing up some more. He hit the wall, but didn't seem phased by it. "You're a figment of my imagination, right? You should... you should listen to me."
"I'm controlled by your subconscious, buddy," Strong Bad replied slyly. "You don't really have a say." He smirked and grabbed his chin, kissing him, only this time it wasn't followed by an immediate wakeup. No, it was followed through in entirety. Once Strong Bad broke it he shrugged and went over to sit on the bed. "All right, suit yourself. This is going to be a really long, boring dream."
Homestar pulled his pillow over his head and whimpered. Long and boring he could handle. That would be a nice change of pace. He clenched the pillow tighter and groaned.
Strong Bad stretched out on the bed, examining his fingers boredly. For a brief minute or two it actually seemed like the dream might get by with being long and boring... and not quite so gay. Then he rolled over and propped his head up on his elbows, grinning at Homestar. "You know, I have a great ass. Wouldn't you agree?" He snickered.
Homestar went red and slammed his head against the wall with a loud thud. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Doing what?" Strong Bad asked, feigning innocence. "It was totally a valid question."
"Fine. Then I disagree."
"I see." He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"...because I'm not gay," he snorted. "Whaddya mean 'how come'? Duh."
"Could've fooled me," Strong Bad replied. "You know, the first sign that you're gay is that you get REALLY defensive about people mentioning it. And that you dream about making out with other guys."
"No, see, I'm dreaming about guys trying to make out with me," he snapped. "I'm not making out with any dudes. That's gross."
"Oh, I'm not trying. If I were trying, you'd know," Strong Bad grinned. "Besides, how do you know it's gross when you've never given it a chance? Admit it, man... the kissing was fun."
He wretched over-dramatically. "I don't think so."
"Denial," Strong Bad sighed, rolling his eyes. "Man, you're dense. Clearly this is gonna be harder than I thought." He slid off the bed and stood up, hands on his hips. "Up." He motioned for Homestar to stand.
"What? No. I don't take orders from you you're not even real." He glared at the wall again and shooed him. "Get lost."
Strong Bad waved a hand in the air. Then he pulled at a nonexistent yet... apparently very effective leash, yanking Homestar to his feet. He narrowed his eyes up at him, smirk widening. "How about this... you make out with me, just to prove how gross it is and that you're not gay... and maybe I'll leave you alone."
Homestar blinked and pulled at his invisible collar. "LET. GO."
Strong Bad chuckled. "Nah, I don't think so," he mused, pulling him a bit closer.
Homestar tugged back, but dream Strong Bad had a better grip than regular one. "This is so not cool. Why won't you just go away and leave me alone?" Another tug.
"You tell me, I'm in your head."
He blinked at that. Why was he there, anyway?
"I have no idea, but it's awful and needs to stop," he growled.
"Then stop me," Strong Bad replied boredly.
"I've been trying."
Strong Bad snorted. "Clearly you haven't tried everything yet."
"Excuse me for not knowing how to turn off my brain," he huffed.
"Well sittin' in a corner telling me to go away is totally not helping." Strong Bad pulled him down to his level and leaned close, pausing with his lips just behind his ear. "I think we both know that the state of 'off' is way overrated, anyway." He kissed him behind the ear and smirked.
Homestar twitched and grabbed his shoulders, keeping him at arms' length. "No. Very no. Absolutely no. Off is fine, off is great, off saves electricity so yes. Off. Off is good."
"Off is so friggen boring," Strong Bad frowned. "Come on, man." He grabbed Homestar's arms and flung him onto the bed.
Homestar glared at him and quietly hoped that his alarm clock would be going off soon. Very soon. Now would be nice.
That didn't seem to be the case just yet. Homestar growled and got up, but the same invisible rope that was lassoed around his neck found its way around his wrist and the bed post beside it. He pulled at it, confused. "What the crap...?"
Strong Bad climbed onto the bed. "Just having a little fun," he said, straddling Homestar as he had in the previous dream. "Okay, here's how it's goin'... I'll be the police officer and you're the convict." He grinned and held up a police badge that had appeared out of thin air. "Time for a strip search," he chuckled. A police siren sounded in the distance...
And then Homestar woke up. The siren, as it turned out, was just his alarm clock going off.
He looked over at his alarm clock, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank god," he muttered, slamming a hand down on it. He had the world's most annoying alarm clock, but today it was a welcome noise.
Homestar slapped a hand to his face. What the hell was going on? These dreams were getting worse and worse. He rolled over, annoyed. And they appeared to be turning him on. He wretched, but being horny was being horny- nothing he could do about that.
Well, not much anyway. He got up out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. Had to get a shower if he was going out tonight, anyway. Maybe he'd get drunk. Stupidly drunk, pass out drunk. It wasn't Homestar's usual style, but passing out meant no dreams which would be a welcome change. The hangover would be worth it.
An hour later, he was clean, working on his second beer and bowling a pretty good game. "Thanks for twisting my arm, dude," he grinned, nudging Pom Pom with his foot. "I haven't been bowling in forever."
"No problem. I know how much a little competition helps you unwind," Pom Pom replied. "You look a little better already- oh, hang on, it's my turn again." He got up and headed over to the ball return.
When he came back there was another "X" flashing on the screen. That made four strikes in a row.
Homestar smirked. "Only four?" he mused, getting up. He grabbed his candy red ball from the machine. "You're losing your touch, man. Betcha I can make five in a row."
"Oh really," Pom Pom grinned. "All right, I'll bet you five bucks for five in a row, take it or leave it."
"Taking it, and your five bucks in about ten seconds," he snorted. "I'm already at four, man. I'm on a roll."
He smirked and got ready to win his bet before familiar laughter hit his ears. He whipped around, accidentally throwing his ball in the process. "Stro..." Immediately his face went hot and he turned back around just in time to watch his ball finish its slow roll in the gutter. Why was he here? Who invited Strong Bad? He hated company events like this, didn't he? Homestar tensed up nervously. And why the hell was he suddenly turned on like crazy again?
Pom Pom frowned, puzzled. Homestar never lost a bet. His attention was pulled away for the moment to follow the source of the commotion at the other end of the alley.
Strong Bad had tied the shoelaces of one of his teammates- Strong Sad, to be precise- around the leg of one of the benches. His other teammates weren't nearly as amused as he was, but Strong Bad didn't seem to care.
"You are such a klutz," Strong Bad said, laughter finally fading. "Ah man..."
"Strong Bad," Pom Pom scolded sternly, leaving his lane and his flustered teammate to address the problem.
"Uh oh," Strong Bad muttered.
"I invited you here to build team work in the office," Pom Pom huffed, bending down to untie Strong Sad's laces. He pulled him, still glaring at Strong Bad. "You really need to grow up and act your age. This isn't gradeschool. You're just lucky none of the higher ups are here to catch you fooling around like a 12 year old."
"Uh huh. Won't happen again," Strong Bad replied unenthusiastically.
"It better not," Pom Pom stated.
Strong Bad glared at the floor once Pom Pom had gone, then glanced briefly over his shoulder at his team's scoreboard. Everyone else's numbers were in the triple digits. Just not... his. "Screw this stupid, boring game, I'm getting food," he huffed, heading off for the bar. He'd had onion rings on his mind for a while now, anyway.
Strong Sad watch him go, eyes also flicking up to the scoreboards. Next to H*R were a few strikes, some spares and ... nothing. Two total misses. He blinked at Homestar, who was twitching and jittery, just like that afternoon. Odd. He seemed fine all night. He shook his head and got back to bowling, the only sport he was halfway decent at.
Pom Pom also seemed to notice Homestar's decline in accuracy. "Are you feeling okay?" He asked, interrupting Homestar as he got up for his turn.
He flinched and laughed nervously, nearly dropping his ball. "Yep just fine, peachy-keen, yes. Fine. Yes." He took a deep breath. "Fine."
Pom Pom rolled his eyes. "If y-"
"Hey, bossman," Strong Bad interrupted, having stopped by their lane on the way back from the bar, basket of onion rings in hand. "I was wondering... do we get Martin Luther King Day off? I'm trying to plan a vacation and I don't remember off the top of my head which dead guy days count as holidays."
"No, we don't," Pom Pom responded irritably. "If you really need off, you can always switch your shifts. Homestar, you usually have off Mondays, right?"
Homestar flinched again and nodded his head, unwilling to say anything. He swallowed the lump in his throat nervously. "Y-yuh huh."
"Great. Do that then. Homestar'll work for me that Monday. Thanks, man," Strong Bad started to walk away, but Pom Pom cleared his throat.
"What shift will you be working for him?"
"Eh?" Strong Bad blinked.
"If you're switching shifts, what day will you be working for him?" Pom Pom clarified.
"Um, none...?" Strong Bad flinched at Pom Pom's expression. "Er, I mean whatever, I guess."
"Homestar, what day do you want off?" Pom Pom asked.
He snapped back into the conversation, glancing between the both of them. "...huh? Off for wh-what?"
Strong Bad groaned and slapped his forehead. "It's no use talking to him, he's been spacing out all day. Just pick a friggen day of the week."
Pom Pom nudged Homestar. "Pick a day."
Homestar tensed up. "It's okay, I'll just work it, I wanna work it for him," he blurted out, fading into a half giggle. "I-it's fine."
"There, ya see? This was all a waste of time, he wants to do it," Strong Bad shrugged. "Thanks, dork." He flashed Homestar a thumbs up and then proceeded to eat more onion rings.
Pom Pom gave his friend an odd look. "You could... really use the day off, I think, Homestar..."
"Quit trying to change his mind!" Strong Bad protested.
"It's fine," Homestar insisted, stammering. "I swear." Make him leave, already, this is insane.
Pom Pom held his hands up in defeat. "All right, all right. I'm just trying to make sure this ends up fair." He shot a disapproving glance at Strong Bad. "Have it your way."
"We done arguing? Good. Bye." Strong Bad turned to leave... rather quickly. Homestar kept looking at him weirdly and it was seriously creeping him out. Making him jump out of his skin was kind of funny for a few hours, but now it was getting just... odd. Even for Homestar.
Homestar didn't relax after his hasty retreat. He stared after him. Holy crap, he does have a nice a...
He yelped and dropped his bowling ball, shaking his head furiously to rid himself of the thought. No no no. Absolutely no. That was a major no. "AUGH."
Pom Pom rubbed his temple and glanced up at his teammate. "You know what, let's take a break." Mostly he just couldn't stand seeing his friend in such a condition. It was almost painful to watch him fumbling with the ball, and he was more than a little afraid he'd hurt himself or an innocent bystander, considering how jumpy he was.
"Good idea," Homestar muttered, shoulders slumping. "...h-hey, Pom Pom? Can I tell you something? And you'll promise you won't tell anyone? Ever? Take it to your grave?"
Pom Pom blinked. "Of course. You know me better than to have to ask, man."
Homestar tapped his fingers together. "I kinda ha... well, the reason I've been acting so..." He glanced over his shoulder nervously and brought his voice to a low whisper. "I kinda had a uh ... a ... um. S-sex dream about Str...st...strong... Bad."
"...oh." Pom Pom rubbed the back of his neck. Well, that certainly explained a few things. "Wow... I didn't know you were into that. I guess I can kind of see it, but... really? What about your girlfriend?"
"...into that...?" Homestar repeated, going red. "WHAT? I'm not! It's awful and I want to stop it! I'm going insa-" He blinked. "...what do you mean you can kind of see it."
"You do follow Strong Bad around a lot," Pom Pom explained calmly. "Plus the tight pants and... just trust me, you give off some of that vibe. Marzipan threw me, though. I was so sure... hmm. I guess that shows what I know."
Homestar's jaw dropped and he twitched. "...h..gjk... I'M NOT GAY. What the hell, man! You've known me since we were six! If I was gay you'd know by now," he snapped, frustrated. He could almost hear that smug dream Strong Bad mocking him already. "That is so not cool."
Pom Pom folded his arms. "Well I don't know, I thought that was what you were getting at. Are you bi, then? I'm really confused right now, so bear with me here."
Homestar snorted, irritated. "You are totally the worst best friend ever. I want a way to STOP the dreams. I'm not coming out of the freakin' closet, man."
"Ahh, okay." Pom Pom sighed and shook his head. "I'm not so sure how to help you, there. Most nightmares are caused by some kind of inner turmoil, from what I remember from my psychology classes. If you want to get rid of them, you have to face the fear or anxiety behind it. That may or... may not apply to sex dreams. I'll let you figure out whether it's a nightmare or a fantasy, because I'd rather not know the details." He cleared his throat. "But you know, they are kind of a natural thing. It sounds to me like you just have a serious crush on Strong Bad."
Homestar twitched, unable to find words for a moment. Crush? On Strong Bad? He glanced over his shoulder at the supposed love interest in question- he was tormenting his little brother again.
"...WHAT." He shook his head, blinking a few times. He heard him right, hadn't he? "...WHAT? No. That is not helping at all."
Pom Pom shrugged. "You're freaking out over him for some reason. That's the only idea I could come up with from what you've told me and what I've seen."
"If you had a sex dream about Strong Bad you'd freak out too," Homestar huffed, looking away. "I'm outta here, man. Bowling was fun but I can't ... be here if he's here. Sorry. I'll catch you later."
"...all right. See you tomorrow," Pom Pom replied, watching him walk away. He did not envy the guy. One could only hope he'd sort things out soon. "Wait- Homestar! Don't forget to turn in your shoes, buddy," he called after him.
Homestar blinked. Oh. Right. Bowling shoes. He glanced down at them.
He sighed and leaned against the counter, untying his shoes absently. He huffed. Crush on Strong Bad indeed. That was absurd. He'd known the guy for almost sixteen years, after all. Why have supposedly-romantic feelings for him now?
He closed his eyes and growled. Romantic? Probably not. But the past 24 hours have been some of the most frustrating sexually he'd ever had. Even high school he could wake up without being too turned on to even think straight. Not that he had been thinking straight all day. Everything Strong Bad did or said seemed to get to him. Definitely annoying.
He sighed and traded in his shoes for his old pair of Freshley's, narrowly escaping having to pass by Strong Bad on his way out. Thank god. He wasn't sure he'd survive. His heart was still going a mile a minute from last time.
As he walked home, he mulled over Pom Pom's suggestion. A crush on Strong Bad did seem the ... logical reasoning for all of this, didn't it? But then again, even his worst crushes didn't involve sexually explicit dreams followed by super pushy ones. He'd never been told by a dream crush to hurry up and ask someone out, either. Definitely weird, and very ... sudden.
He sighed reaching his house. Maybe he was just horny and for some reason his brain just ... picked Strong Bad. It wasn't like the dreams weren't hot. They were hot, sort of. At the time, but not so much in retrospect. He crashed down on his couch and flipped on the television, staring at it boredly.
He'd had weirder sex dreams, but never involving ... a guy before. He sighed. Pom Pom said it was natural. Maybe everyone has crazy sex dreams about their coworkers, and he was just unlucky enough to remember them. He yawned and laid down on the couch. Thursday tomorrow? Off tomorrow. He shut his eyes and rolled over, turning the volume down on an old Brady Bunch rerun. "Night, Bradys."
This time, the evening seemed to pass dreamlessly. No interruptions, not even a sign of that weird imaginary tormentor of his. He woke up the following day to a warm beam of sunlight on his face and the sound of someone knocking persistently on his front door.
Homestar blinked, sitting up. "Augh, it's too early for this crap," he muttered, wiping his eyes. He yawned and stretched in an attempt to look more awake. He paused to check himself out in the mirror by his door, mussed his hair into a halfway acceptable style and opened the door.
Strong Bad stood on his front step, hand raised in mid-knock. He blinked up at Homestar and waved. "Sup. I lost my key again."
He reddened unintentionally and looked away. "Y-you keep the spare key to your house under that stupid rock." Homestar would know, considering he used it regularly. "I put it back last time, I swear."
"My house? Dude, I haven't lived there for like two years. I meant our key." Strong Bad snorted and let himself in.
Homestar blinked and watched him enter his house. He growled. "Our key?" he repeated. "There is no OUR KEY. There's MY key and the spare Marzi has. Get out of my house." He paused. Heh. Sounded like Strong Bad for a minute there.
"What?" Strong Bad set the bag he'd been carrying on a nearby chair and raised an eyebrow at him. "Who the crap is Marzi, and why are you giving out spare keys?" He demanded. "Homestar- I swear, if I find out someone walked off with the lappy because you're copying keys for half the town, you'll be sleeping out on the friggen deck until the end of time."
"...Marzipan. My girlfriend. Who totally should have a key to my house because it's one step closer to m...moving in..." He looked around 'his' house. The layout seemed familiar, but some of the colors were off. There were also portraits on his wall he didn't quite remember taking. "...with me."
"Girlfriend, huh..." Strong Bad sighed. "You had another one of those dreams again, didn't you." He folded his arms over his chest and regarded Homestar with concern. "You don't have a girlfriend. You've got me, man. For almost two years now... unless you're cheating on me with this 'Marzipan.' In which case, I might have to throw you out and burn all of your stuff. Just so you know."
"You know what, I am," Homestar smirked, finally realizing that this was a dream. He walked past him, heading for the door. "I am cheating on you. Guess I'll be on my way."
The door disappeared just as he reached for the handle.
"Ah, come on. Why'd you have to ruin it? You used up a lot of imagination on this one," Strong Bad pouted. Of course, it wasn't the real Strong Bad- it was whatever horrible incarnation of him had been invading Homestar's dreams the last few nights.
He pulled his hand back, annoyed. "Okay, anxiety-induced Strong Bad thing. What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone," Homestar demanded, turning around to glare at him. "I'd really like to get on with my life."
"You won't like it," he replied casually. "You really won't like it. Are you sure you wanna know? I mean, I don't mind playing games in here... we could have an awful lot of fun together."
Homestar raised an eyebrow. "I'm not interested in any kind of 'fun' with you. What is it?"
He smirked. "Kiss me."
"I did. Twice. But here you are," he pointed out.
"Not THIS me, you idiot," the dream Strong Bad snorted. "I mean the real one."
"...what?" He went pale. "You've gotta be kidding. Strong Bad would end my life."
"Yeah, probably, if you just grab me out of the blue and plant one on me. You're gonna have to approach it with a little more tact than that if you want to get out of this in decent health," Strong Bad rolled his eyes.
"I want a plan B. That's not gonna happen," he huffed. "There's no way I'm even trying that."
"There isn't a plan B, dorkwad," Strong Bad said smugly. "Plan B is me being here, in your head."
"...pl...plan C?"
"You're lucky you even have a 'B' and an 'A', don't push it," Strong Bad snorted. "Look I don't make the rules, that's just how it is."
"Augh," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "I just want my life back! I can't have it with you up here messing with my libido and I can't have it out there trying to make the moves on the real you. He doesn't even like sitting next to me on the bus, what makes you think he'll want to make out with me? What makes you think I even want that?" He wrinkled his nose.
The dream Strong Bad shrugged. "Hey, I only know what you know, man. And so far, you know that I really turn you on. That's a good indicator of 'want'." He smirked. "I'm... also pretty sure the real me hasn't had a girlfriend in a really long time, so maybe that means something. There might even be some sexual tension there..."
"I'm a 26 year old male. Shampoo commercials turn me on, so don't flatter yourself," he replied snidely.
"Shampoo commercials don't make you lose sleep or have to ditch bowling tournaments," Strong Bad countered.
"...well, not yet they haven't."
"True. Maybe I should apply to be in one of those," Strong Bad grinned.
Homestar winced at the idea. "Eugh. So don't need that mental image. Can I wake up now? Are we done?"
"Hmm... one more thing, I think," the dream incarnation pondered. He then grabbed Homestar by the shirt and yanked him into a quick kiss.
Suddenly, he woke up to a warm beam of sunlight on his face and the sound of someone knocking persistently on his front door.
He groaned and rolled over, ignoring it for a few seconds. Was this the dream, or reality? Who even knew anymore? He eventually sat up and went to the answer the door. Dream or reality, it was still annoying as hell.
This time it was Marzipan standing on his doorstep. If it was still a dream, it was at least a little more realistic already. She was holding a cardboard box stuffed with CD's and some other various odds and ends- things Homestar had left at her house and probably forgotten about.
He blinked a few times. "...um. What's going on?" he asked nervously. It was never a good sign when your girlfriend showed up at your house with your spare toothbrush and extra set of clothes in hand.
"I'm returning your things," Marzipan replied. "Here." She pushed the items into his hands. "And these." She dropped a set of keys on top of the bundle. "I'd like my set back, if you don't mind."
Homestar stared at the shiny silver keys for a few seconds. "... are you br..." Realization hit him. "You're breaking up with me? We haven't even talked about anything! You can't just stop by my house and break up with me without any warning!"
"I gave you an entire day to apologize, or at least give me some kind of explanation," Marzipan said. "Anyway, there's nothing to talk about. I've made up my mind this time."
"If I could explain I would," he muttered bitterly. "Come on, Marzi. You're overreacting."
Marzipan was quiet for a second. "Even if I am, I still think we should spend some time apart," she said firmly. "Maybe when you get over whatever your problem is, we can talk then. But right now, I just don't want to deal with it. Don't make this hard- I just want my keys."
He sighed angrily and put the box by the door. "Fine. But you'll see. In a week we'll think this is hysterical." Hopefully.
Marzipan folded her arms angrily. "Saying someone else's name while we're making love is not hysterical."
Homestar rubbed his arm nervously, face going a bit red. He avoided looking at her. "... right. Of course it's not."
She huffed a bit and waited until she took the keys from him. "Thank you." She started to leave but hesitated at the bottom of the steps. Oh no you don't, girl. No second thoughts- just keep walking. With a sigh, she left the premises.
He watched her go with a pout. Great. Worst Thursday ever, too. This was just a shitty week.
He closed his door and leaned against it, letting out an annoyed sigh. "Way to go," he muttered, smacking his head against the door with each word. "You need to fix this, idiot."
He tried to come up with an idea. Marzipan's birthday was fast approaching, but there was the terrifying thought of accidentally addressing it to Strong Bad. He blushed slightly and groaned, slapping his forehead. What, now just thinking about him got him super flustered? Great. Perfect. Splendid. This situation could not get any better.
He stretched and headed upstairs to shower, get dressed and go on his morning run a little bit late. Maybe the cold air would do him some good.