1A/N: Well, as I type this, my two best friends (except for Sara) Samm (sound familiar, TLB readers? XD) and AJ are watching some sketchy movie that I've already seen (The Exorcism of Emily Rose) and although I LOVE scary movies (sarcasm) I think I LOVE RENT a little bit more.

I mean, for example: last night we were watching 28 Days. Basically, that got boring as shit and REALLY scary on my part, so I was like, "You know what? Why don't we shut this off and watch something else!!!" and guess what I put in?

RENT. I carry the DVD with me. Always. XD Anyway, on with ze story!

14. Au Naturel

Never before had I had such close contact with melons.

Like, you know, I had melons in places there aren't supposed to be melons. There were pears and apples and oranges and so many varieties that I was starting to get claustrophobic, and I really had to pee really bad. "Psst, Maaaark." I whispered, trying to get his attention. He muttered something and then he kicked the box, rattling my body and—you guessed it—my bladder.

Then I felt something wet on my leg and top half and I was worried that I'd peed my pants, and then I realized that there was a rotten melon floating around in there! I instantly jumped a mile, but then I realized Mark was doing something important so I should probably stay still. Then... someone had their hand in the box.

Frankly, it tickled. I giggled for a moment and wiggled out of the hand's way, and I saw them reaching for a watermelon. Ever so carefully I placed in their hand, and then the melon was out of the box and my head was exposed.

Shit! My wavy blond whorls of hair were now exposed—ahhh!

Mark noticed and, in the nicest way possible, basically told Joanne to get the fuck out of here, I don't want you here. And just like that, she was gone, and I was free from my fruity prison.

Gasping for breath, I jumped out of the stupid cardboard box and rolled across the floor, melon smearing all over my face. "Ahh, shit, I smell like an assorted fruit basket!" I stopped rolling, looking up at Mark. Suddenly, everything that had just happened in the past, what, five minutes, came back to me.

What had just happened from a shoppers point of view: some crazy freak sang to a couple mangos, and then he dove into the melons and was covered with fruit, and then he rolled out and looked up at the sky, gasping for breath as his albino friend observed calmly, while the rest of the store continued to do its thing, the elevator music still playing.

Then I started laughing, not able to control my body as it tumbled along the grungy floor of the Stop and Shop. It was almost difficult to grasp how stupid the two of us must've looked—diving into the melons?—and therefore I couldn't withhold my hysteria. Eventually, Mark caught on as well, and he was laughing too.

And we stayed like that for a while, before the two of us stood up and wiped ourselves off. Then, we proceeded to the register, our melons and pears and whatnot in our hands, skipping merrily while handcuffed together.

The bag girl and cashier stared at us for a looooooong time before deciding to talk to us. "Um... yeah," said the cashier, whose nametag read "Phillip." He seemed very rude, and I immediately dubbed myself as an anti-Phillip person. "We're gonna have to..."

The bag girl, "Alex" as her nametag read, had a pierced lip, eyebrow, nose, and about six in her ears, and her hair was bleach blond with fiery red tips. "Yah, we're gonna have to ask you to leave and, like, never come back," she snapped her gum noisily and tangled a finger in her hair. "Like, never. Go to different Stop and Shops and stuff."

Mark dropped his jaw. I giggled.

"The manager has cameras everywhere," Phillip continued, and Alex tried to smother her snickers.

"We saw you try to, like, seduce our melons," Alex sniggered, "and we don't really like it when people, like, seduce our melons. So... like, yeah."

Then, to my complete surprise, Mark spat (spit! He spat on her! It was nasty!) at Alex and muttered, "Bitch." Then, he grabbed the bag—did he even fuckin' pay?—and we were out of there really fast, running down the street with melons and fruit and whatever else in our hands. When we were looking back to see if Alex was following us, we accidentally ran into someone.

Joanne.

"Oh, hi, Mark, Ro—"

"Gotta go, bye!" We zoomed past her, me burying my handcuffed hand into the bag. We straggled as far as we could before I removed my hand, cursing the handcuff as it glimmered in the sunlight. "That was really, really, really, really, really, really, really—"

"I know, Roger."

"REALLY, really, really, really, really close," I finished, breathing a huge sigh of relief. Then I noticed the large amounts of mushed melon on my side and scoffed in disgust. "Oh, man, I need to take a shower."

Then our eyes widened.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Mark cried, stopping dead in his tracks. About eight people walked into him. "NOOOOOO!" he repeated.

"SUCK IT UP!" I growled, and then I dragged him forward with me. Together we fled to the loft, each of us dreading the fate that had clearly come upon us. We were going to have to shower, and that was it.

We made it to our home and walked through the door, me headed toward the shower—ugh, rotted melon!—and Mark headed toward the bedroom. "Dude, chill, okay? I'll just leave my pants on, but I'm gonna take my shirt off, and then I'll change into some clean clothes—no big whoop."

We made it into the bathroom and I attempted to take off my shirt... when I realized that it was physically impossible for me to remove my shirt, unless I could find some way to pull Mark's body through the sleeve of a tee shirt. "How the hell did Collins dress us before we went on that date?" I asked aloud, pissed that this clothing wasn't cooperating.

"That's weird—the only way to get us dressed would be to take the handcuffs off," Mark noted.

It dawned upon us then.

"COLLINS!" we both shouted, exiting the bathroom and literally running around the loft crazily. "COLLINS! COLLINS, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" Until we finally ran into him and started telling our story at the same time.

"Take a shower—"

"—tried to get changed—"

"—how'd you dress us last time?—"

"—crazy lunatic—"

"—no fair—!"

"—fucking asshole—"

"—how'd you get them off, huh?!—"

"—crazy lunatic—"

"—TELL US NOW—"

"—psycho freak—"

"—OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR—"

"—so mean—!"

"—FUCKING PEACE WHEN I—"

"—crazy lunatic!"

"—KILL YOU!"

My top finally blew and I bellowed the last phrase, making Collins withhold a giggle. "Woah, guys, chill out. I'll tell you everything, okay? Roger, no need to kill me, and Mark, you said crazy lunatic at least three times during that whole thing—are you okay? Do you need some aspirin?"

"No," Mark exhaled, "I think I'll be—"

"Well you will when I'm done with you!" and he brought a freaking spoon down on the top of our heads, beating us a few times until our consciousness finally faded.

I woke up to someone shoving Crayons up my nose.

"What the hell?" I swatted Collins' hand away and he chuckled nervously, pulling the Crayons out from my nasal cavity.

"Oh, good morning, guys. Um, yeah, I gave you guys a shower and then I dressed you—" and he seemed to want to add more, but I looked at Mark, and then my dressed and cleaned self and then back at Collins. He had what? He'd bathed us? That was sketchy. Even for my best friend, honestly... he was gay and he'd given us a shower and then dressed us.

"YOU WHAT?"

"Hey, Roger, chill," he put his hands up in a 'Whoa Nelly' gesture and shook his head. "It's not like that, man. You guys were out after I—um..."

"Beat us mercilessly with an eating utencil."

"Yeah, that." He swallowed. "It's not like I haven't seen you naked before."

Mark chose this moment to sit up. "Wait, what?" he asked, basically shouted in my face. "What the fuck? When have you seen Roger naked?" he questioned, rubbing sleep (or, you know, unconsciousness) out of his eyes. Then he put his glasses back on his face and studied Collins.

"When haven't I seen Roger naked?"

"Please stop it with the indirect sexual comments," Mark moaned.

"Yeah!" I added, and then looked at Thomas carefully. "Name one time—"

"'Oh, hey, how about we run naked through the sprinklers of that guy's house over there!'"

"That was only—"

"'Let's play Yahtzee naked!'"

"Yeah, but—"

"'Let's play Trouble naked!'"

"Okay, fine, I—"

"'Let's play Charades naked—!'"

"Okay, fine, I get it! Jesus!"

There were a couple seconds of silence, me trying to tone down the embarrassment of the last few moments of my life. Okay, fine, Collins had dressed me and seen me—... au naturel, but remembering those early days of our lives when everything I'd done had to be in the nude... damn, I was a rebel kid back in the day, wasn't I?

Then Mark was squirming. "But what about—"

There was a laugh emitted from Collins. "Mark, you do some crazy shit when you're drunk."

A/N: This chapter SUCKED, I admit, I'm really sorry about that.

OMG, guys, I saw Hairspray! The day it came out, too, and then I saw it last night again. :) I LOVED it. LOOOOVED it. I still think I hate Zac Efron's voice (ever since HSM I've been cursed into thinking he sucks) but he's still really hot, and maybe I don't hate him as much (but I still hate HSM with a burning fiery passion.)

I have a proposition for you: if ANYONE can tell me the significance of "Dies irae dies illa, Kyrie eleison Yitgadal V'Yitkadash", tell me what it means, I will make you into an OC :) Just tell me your name and I'll factor you in.

So, this is probably the last update on this story until I get back from camping (August 5th) and then I'm going to NY to see RENT –squee– on the 9th, so who knows.

I've been thinking of doing a RENT FanFic awards, who'd like to collaborate with me and help make that happen:) First come first serve.

REVIEW!

–Steph.