Let's start this off by saying I love Mexican food, so no flames please. I also love purebred dogs. No flames please. That said, this was inspired by a friend, whose eyes are so bad that when I look through his glasses, I can't see my hand in front of my face. And I don't have 20-20 vision either. Anyway, I would like to thank said friend for giving me the spark of creativity required to make fun of someone like Kyoya Ohtori. : D

Kyoya's Unspectacled Day

----------------------------

Ah, Sunday.

Kyoya stretched his long limbs contentedly, like a lean, lithe panther awakening from a long slumber. He basked in the warm midmorning light, sweet and melty, like butter on popcorn.

Stretching once more, he reached for his glasses on the bedside table.

Huh?

His fingers grasped at empty air.

What? Where?

He leaned over, still in bed, to check the floor. Had they fallen? No, impossible. He'd set them securely on the nightstand before turning out the lights, as he'd done every night for the past nine years. Who would have the audacity to pilfer his spectacles?

Who would dare??

Hwwiiiiihneee! Mhhhwhiiineee!

Kyoya's wrathful attention was now drawn to the door. There was a ferocious scratching, a wet snuffling, and another loud, almost desperate whine before the door swung open to reveal a massive golden retriever, with a glistening, soft, fluffy coat and a red ribbon tied in a festive bow around her neck. In her mouth were Kyoya's (now mangled) glasses.

"Antoinette, you wretched animal!" Kyoya hissed through clenched teeth. "Drop those!"

Antoinette obeyed, gently setting the glasses down at the bedside. She swished her tail twice slowly, and backed up a few paces, an apologetic doggy grin on her face.

"You're just as empty-headed as your master," Kyoya spat. "If you weren't Tamaki's mongrel, you would be out in the streets before you knew what was happening!"

What had possessed him to take in the mutt anyway? Oh, yeah.

"PLLEEEEEEEEEZE, Kyoya! I'll only be gone for the weekend, and sending Antoinette away to a kennel would kill her! How can you resist this face?" Tamaki knelt beside Antoinette and hugged her, gazing up at Kyoya with misty doe eyes. Antoinette took one glance at Tamaki and followed suit, staring at Kyoya imploringly.

"You can't resist this faaaace . . ." Tamaki crooned. "Can't you find it in your heart to take pity on a poor, defenseless animal?"

"I have no heart." Kyoya replied coldly.

Somewhere in the distance, flames reared up, lightning crackled, and thunder growled. Ominous music played, as purple demon energy sizzled behind Kyoya.

"Couldn't you just send her to one of those dog day care things?"

"And risk her being exposed to fleas and ticks and other pestilence?" Tamaki cried indignantly. "I'm appalled that you'd even suggest something like that!"

"You're being unreasonable," Kyoya replied, without batting an eyelash. "There are centers that are certified by the humane society, with separate rooms for each dog, and diets you can specify and . . ."

"But Antionette's not a dog! She's a member of this family!" Tamaki interrupted.

Kyoya shot him a withering look.

But Tamaki, being Tamaki, had pestered him until Kyoya was sure all his hair had turned snow white. As one could guess, Tamaki eventually won out.

"Fine. I'll take the stupid dog, provided she's potty-trained and won't leave me presents all over my carpets," Kyoya muttered.

Tamaki smiled smugly as he handed Kyoya the leash. After all, a victory was a victory, even if Kyoya only said yes to shut him up.

"Tamaki, you are the reason I'm going to have an aneurysm before I'm forty," Kyoya grumbledto no one in particular.

But why on earth had Antionette chosen his glasses to use as a chew toy? Despite the doubtless decades of inbreeding, the dog wasn't that thick-skulled.

"Hikaru, I really don't think five tacos are really crammed into that little packet," Kaoru objected.

Hikaru shrugged his shoulders. "Haruhi manages to live inside an apartment that's barely bigger than our living room. If she can do that, it's definitely possible to fit five tacos into this little bag."

"Hikaru, Kaoru, do change into your costumes for today; we'll be commencing in ten minutes. And put that awa--"

BWOF.

The twins, who'd been struggling with a package of powdered taco sauce, finally managed to rip it open in a storm of red dust.

Kyoya, finely dusted in taco sauce powder from the shoulders up, gave a dignified cough, exhaling a small puff of cinnamon-colored powder.

"First of all, that tastes horrible. Tacos are uncouth," Kyoya stated as matter-of-factly as if he'd been commenting on the weather. He took out a silk handkerchief and began wiping his glasses clean. "Second of all," he placed his glasses back on his face, and his eyes gleamed with untapped low blood pressure demonic power. "GO CHANGE!!!!" He bellowed.

OH. The glasses must still have smelled like taco sauce, and in the dead of night, while Kyoya was sleeping like a rock, Antoinette must have snuck in and swiped them.

Perfect. Just perfect! Kyoya glared at Antoinette through narrowed snake eyes. He sat up and ran his fingers through his jet black hair.

Well, fine. It wasn't like he didn't have a spare pair of glasses. Kyoya slid out of bed and ambled to his dresser. Opening the top drawer, he rifled through its contents, and withdrew a pair of silver wire-rimmed glasses, perhaps a little smaller, but otherwise identical to the ones now lying on the floor. He slipped them on.

Huh?

Everything was just as blurry as before, maybe even worse, from the dust and fingerprints clouding the lenses. Kyoya took off the glasses, wiped them clean on his t-shirt and put them on again. He squinted. Nope. Still blurry.

Groaning mentally, Kyoya realized that the last time he'd changed his the frame of his glasses was when he was in the sixth grade.

All riiight . . . No reason to panic. Contact lenses will do for a day.

Grabbing a pair of loose, slightly faded jeans, Kyoya tugged them on over his boxers and headed for the bathroom. Still groggy and in a foul mood to boot, he pawed noisily through the contents of the medicine cabinet. He was sure he had contact lenses, it was simply a matter of locating them.

Oh, shit. He'd given them to Haruhi, hadn't he?

He stifled a scream. Ookay. Deep breaths. Rationalize the situation. Rationalize, rationalize.

Well, it is a Sunday. No school. So in theory I could just not leave the house at all, and have a new set of glasses delivered in time for school tomorrow. No, wait. Crap. That stupid charity gala.

What would the gala be for, anyway? Kyoya was sure it was something utterly useless, like the plight of some endangered mosquito on some godforsaken island. Well, either way, skipping it was not an option. Five of his father's (and now his, since he bought his father's company, he remembered with a smile) largest competitors would be there. He couldn't miss this chance to assess the competition unless he had been trampled within an inch of his life by rampaging wildebeests.

He gritted his teeth. Well, not being able to see. Minor setback, he decided, turning around and heading for the door.

Funny, he thought. Was the doorknob always shaped this way?

Dismissing that disconcerting thought, Kyoya went ahead and turned it.

FWWWSSSSSHHH.

Ice-cold water drenched Kyoya from head to toe.

Blinded and disoriented, Kyoya turned in the wrong direction. Then he had walked into his shower and turned the cold water knob.

He stood there in absolute silence for a few moments, sopping wet and freezing. Then, a slightly mad giggle escaped his lips.

"AYH\\A;DLKV(7$OASBLASDLKC#$SIHQWERTYG92Q386485WE6T9YEHKD!!!"