A/N- I love speaking French. Some of the words are awesome, like phoque. It means "seal" but its pronounced fock. So, in a seal-like way, it's fun to run around shouting "FOCKFOCKFOCKFOCK." Isn't life fantastic?
And for the most-asked question: Yes, this story is going to last an entire year. For the second most-asked question: this is after book three.
There's also a tip-of-the-hat reference to Dave Barry's magazine article titled "Breaking the Ice" that I stole one of my favorite jokes from.
Thanks to fLuFfL0V3R who gave me the EBW idea.
Reviewer of the Week:
Flyingtothestars: Very interesting :) I am intrigued as to whether or not Fang commits suicide by July.
Comment of the Week:
axisfiraga: You can't go wrong with bacon.
June 6, 2009
Dear Diary,
Last night Max was naked in my bed.
Okay, let me backtrack before you think I'm a creepy teenage perv who stalks Max. (Well, maybe I am. It depends on your definition of 'perv'.) See, it was a dream. But it was more than a dream: it was bloody well fantastic.
I guess it's weird that I had a dream like that. But it wasn't overly awkward, since all of her "private parts" were blurred, mainly because I have no friggin' idea what any look like.
But that was beside the point.
She was just so…alive. Maybe that's why I'm so attracted to her. (I refuse to believe I am attracted to just her body, no matter what my testosterone believes).
I woke up sweating rather uncomfortably after the aforementioned dream. And you know what sucks? Sleeping in a room with two kids who have hyper-sensitive hearing. Thus, when I woke up breathing heavily, they were on me in within seconds.
Gazzy was the first to attack: "What was that?"
Iggy was slightly easier to understand. "So who've you got the hots for?"
I shook my head profusely. From the lack of light in the room, it was still the middle of the night. "Guys, what time is it?" I pressed a button on my ever-present watch on my wrist. The screen lit up: 3:32 a.m.
"Have I ever told you guys how much I hate you?" I was tired. I was hungry. I was cold. I was pissed.
They, however, were vultures.
"So what was your dream about?" Iggy asked in a wide-awake, singsong voice. Stupid mutant/cook/pyro.
"Not a girl," I said, which naturally led them to two different conclusions.
"It's probably you, Iggy," Gazzy stage-whispered.
"Shut up, Gazzy. Wait- Fang? If it wasn't a girl…were you dreaming about…a guy?" Iggy paused. "I mean, that's perfectly fine, of course, but I never thought…But I think you're lying."
I blanched. Crap. I was spiraling deeper and deeper into Hell. Maybe, in Hell, Iggy and Gazzy will question my sexual tastes night after night after night.
"No, it wasn't a guy!" I yelled.
Iggy continued. "Fess up. Britney Spears? Beyoncé? Or maybe closer to home…Ella? Nudge? Ewww, please, no… or is it Max?" Iggy asked from below me, in the bottom bunk. Across the room on a pull-out couch I could see Gazzy's eyes burning into mine.
"God, obviously not," I said, trying to lie (and failing, I might add).
"The dream woke you up; it must've been exciting."
"Yeah, come on, we're all guys here."
"Come on, tellustellustellus."
"Please?"
"Please?"
"Please?"
"FINE!" I half-shouted, not wanting to wake anyone else up. I racked my brain for a safe topic. I grabbed on to the first thing I could find. "The dream was about… bacon."
Pause.
Pause.
Pause.
"Fang, what the hell?"
Woah, did I just say I dreamt about bacon? That isn't weird at all.
"Yeah," I said, trying to cover myself up. "You know…it's just so…savory…"
Pause.
Pause.
Pause.
Gazzy spoke. "Well, bacon is delicious…"
I could tell Iggy was nodding from the rustling of sheets, but I could also tell he was trying extremely hard not to break out into hysterical laughter. "I agree. I mean, we all have our…preferences…"
I was never going to live this down. Ever. I could see it now: I'm lying on my deathbed, about to croak, when Iggy and Gazzy come rushing in. Right before I'm about to say my final, melodramatic monologue of my life, they yell, "FANG HAS THE HOTS FOR BACON."
For the rest of the night they shut up, but would occasionally mutter "bacon…bacon…" which naturally caused the other to stifle their giggles. When I finally fell asleep again, I didn't dream. And that's a good thing, since chances are I would've dreamed about roast beef or something.
I specifically woke up late that morning so I wouldn't have to face Gazzy and Iggy. My plan was to stay as far away as possible. But as the scent of bacon drifted into my room from some faraway place, I had to quench my murderous tendencies (which had just shot upwards by a tenfold). As I stumbled out of bed and down the long hall to the kitchen, the Terrible Two had, indeed, begun to make bacon. The rest of the Flock was gathered in the kitchen and the family room, which bordered the kitchen. The bacon seemed to put everyone –except me, of course- in a good mood.
"Heyyyy, Fang…" Iggy said suggestively as he flipped a piece of the bacon over. One day, that kid is going to sleep and never wake up.
"Morning, Fang…" Gazzy said, his voice equally full of innuendo.
I fell down into the only empty seat around the old wooden table. I refused to acknowledge them. (That was another reason why I didn't like to talk. I'd end up biting their heads off.)
"Good morning, Fang!" Angel said cheerfully as she bit into a piece of her toast. It was nice to hear something that didn't reference last night. More greetings went around the table, with Max being the last.
"So how did you sleep last night?" Max asked innocently.
"Fine," I said, with a little more force than I intended it to have. Behind me, Iggy and Gazzy were holding on to each other in silent laughter.
Must…suppress… homicidal…tendencies…
But they just kept laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing-
For dramatic effect, I slung my knife down into the table. The metal tip lodged in the wood, leaving it standing upright. "GAZZY, IGGY, SHUT UP!"
Silence.
Now that I think about it, that wasn't the best thing to say/do.
Having bloodthirsty thoughts isn't the best way to get a girl. Unless both of you are zombies or vampires, but that wasn't the point…
"Are you okay, Fang?" Angel asked with a quiet voice.
But oh, Evil Fang wasn't done his rampage yet. "NO!" I yelled, standing.
What was I doing? It was like extreme PMS. It was the weirdest feeling, as if I wasn't controlling myself. But I could hardly sit down. I couldn't face the Flock.
"Fang!" Max stood while the rest of the Flock watched with pale faces. Even Gazzy and Iggy had stopped laughing. "What's wrong?"
I bit my lip. "Nothing." You know what's wrong, Max? For some reason, you're making me do crazy things, and that really sucks. So why don't you just kiss me and we can forget about this little incident?
She looked exasperated. "Come on, Fang, why'are you so mad at Iggy and Gazzy?"
"I'm not. I just didn't get a good night's sleep last night, so I'm just tired." I shouldn't have been mad, I know. But with all my frustration, I couldn't really release it. I was Fang, the Emotionless Brick Wall. The Emotionless Brick Wall (hereby referred to as EBW) would never have spazzed at Gazzy and Iggy. It was really out of character, and it bothered me.
Max knew I was lying. (I needed to take lying lessons. Badly. How many times have I lied in the past while?) "Sit down, Fang."
I sighed. I had screwed up madly. Now Max thought that I was an unstable nutcase.
Fantastic work, Fang.
As I sat down, I descended into what was the most awkward silence I have ever encountered. It was one of those silences where you wanted to shoot a small, cute woodland animal just so you'd have something to talk about. Isn't it crazy how life can change in just a minute? (That was a rather ominous thought. I apologize.)
"Sooo," Nudge said, breaking the silence. "What're everyone's plans for today?"
That's one of the questions no one likes to answer. It's sort of like the comment 'Wow, the weather sure is nice today'. It's just awkward for everyone around.
Everyone shifted in their seats uncomfortably. Max was the only one of us to answer. "I'm going shopping for some clothes with Angel," Max said. "Want to tag along?"
"Sure!" Nudge said, and the thickness in the air dissolved as Nudge went on and on about what she wanted to buy.
I left the table as soon as the bacon was served. I could feel Max watch me as I trudged back to my room. As soon as I climbed the ladder to the top bunk and fell back on the mattress, Max opened the door quietly.
"You wanna talk?"
"No." Yes.
"Come on, what's bothering you?
"Nothing." Everything.
She sighed and realized she wouldn't get anything from me. "Okay, Fang. Just remember: if you can't trust me, who can you trust?"
She left after that rather deep thought that belonged in an Oscar movie. I sighed. Why is it she always had to be so right? If I can't confide in her, I can't confide in anybody.
Well, not really. I'm confiding in you, diary, which is weird since I'm talking to an inanimate object. (Isn't that one of the first signs of insanity?) If these words were read by any real person…well, I would have to hunt them down. But luckily, I won't have to hunt anyone down, because no one – and I mean no one – will ever read this. I would be banished from the Man Universe if someone ever found this. Maybe I shouldn't have started a diary….well, it's too late now, and I'm not about to waste a good journal. Damn me and my high morals.
So it's not even the middle of June yet, and Max already thinks I should be locked up in a white room with lovely padded walls. Maybe I should start to really let her know how I feel. Pshhh- no. I can see it now:
Me: Hi, Max.
Max: Hi, Fang. Oh, by the way, I won't go out with you.
The Rest of the World: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
See? It would never work. I'm just not special enough…
Wait a second-
I AM A GENIUS.
You know those moments where everything just clicks? What do they call it…an epiphany! You know, a "EUREKA!" moment. But I won't go running down the street naked, which is what the first guy to yell "EUREKA!" did (It's true).
I'll douse Max with "mysterious" gifts from an "anonymous" source. Then, Max will gradually start to fall in love with her "mystifying benefactor". Girls love mystery. It goes up there with chocolate and the Jonas Brothers, I bet.
So anyways, I'll keep giving her romantic stuff, like flowers and candles and I'll sign it with a note with sweet poetry or something. And I can write poetry. I'm actually pretty good at it. (I'm normally pretty humble, so when I say I'm good at something, I really am.) Look:
I love Max,
So much that I want to send her a fax,
And then play the sax,
All the way to Halifax.
Max won't know what hit her.
-Fang