WARNING: This chapter contains . . . [Language / Suggestive Narration / Violence]


Edit Update: 1/1/2016

Did some majorly minor editing.


Let me just say that camels are horrible roommates. It was bad enough when I had to ride on his humped back and put up with his spit projectiles, but now he was hogging out on all of the food, covering the couch with his drool, shedding all over the carpet, and he took up the whole bed. So I was forced to grab a blanket and pillow and sleep in the bathtub, like I had once seen in a Charlie Chaplin short. Thankfully though - unlike in the short - I made sure that there was no water in it first. It was incredibly uncomfortable, as you can well imagine. It was hard, and cold, and lonely. I tried singing the State Farm song again to call that cute girl back, but when I did, a guy who was probably a sumo wrestler on the side popped in and landed right on top of me. I'm surprised that I'm still alive!

And that's not even the worst of it!

Right when I began to doze off, I heard loud music and the building shook on its foundations. Of course I got up to investigate. When I exited the bathroom, I saw that Spittle had invited an army of young people, who were all barely dressed and dancing to some very loud 80s music. Can you imagine? All I wanted was some sleep and to keep avoiding Bakura, who was probably coming up with different ways to stab me, but what I got was a party animal roomie. Well, party camel, if you wanna be specific.

"SHUT UP!" How else should I have reacted to this? I was not in the wrong.

So why is it that right after saying what needed to be said, security barged in and dragged me out of the hotel, telling me that I was too loud and disturbing the rest of the guests? There is a freakin' camel blaring out rock n roll music and I'M the one who's too loud?! What has this world come to?

After I was kicked to the curb, I stood and dusted myself off. At least now I didn't have to deal with Spittle.

Until they threw him out too. Literally threw him. Before he literally landed on top of me. He was almost as heavy as the sumo guy. Almost. But at least Mr. Sumo had the courtesy to get off and apologize for crushing me with his bulk, while Spittle merely sat on my back like I was a piece of furniture as he slobbered all over me.

I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't have sent Marik and Bakura into the story."


"It's like we're Bear Grylls or something." Marik said as he followed Bakura, who was hacking away at the vegetation with his new sword, before he began to do a mock impersonation of the man he was talking about. "I should drink my own piss, and show off by jumping into quicksand, and strip naked in front of the camera."

If Bakura had dog ears, they would have perked up. "Strip naked, you say?"

"Yeah. He was completely bare. Get it? His name is Bear. He was bare. Ha! I'm funny."

"How did that happen?" Maybe they could reenact it.

Marik shrugged absentmindedly. "He was climbing an iceberg or something."

"Oh." So much for that idea. "Listen, Marik. I know how hard it will be for you, but we need to be quiet and-"

"SNAKE!"

Bakura groaned before turning around, expecting to see another midget reptile that barely qualified as an inchworm. But what he saw was no inchworm. It was an anaconda who was slithering down a branch, slowly making his way to Marik. Normally Bakura would have jumped in to save him - like a knight in black armor rescuing his princess only to regret it right afterward when he was forced to listen to her constant nagging - but this time he smiled to himself, crossing his arms as he relaxed against a tree.

"Bakura!" Marik called out as the snake hissed and flicked his tongue only centimeters away from his face.

"What is it, Marik?" Bakura asked, perfectly calm.

The anaconda slid onto his shoulder. "There's a frigging snake on me!"

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed."

"Damn you and your sarcastic ways!" As his white haired companion laughed, Marik flinched and helplessly watched the snake begin to wrap around his body. "Frig, frig, frig, frig, frig!" He looked at Bakura, who was examining his sword. "Aren't you going to do something?!"

"Why should I when I won't get anything in return?"

The snake was around his chest, pinning Marik's arms to his sides. "What if I gave you a dollar?"

"No."

"Two dollars!"

"No."

"What if I made you president of the evil council?"

"No."

"What if I made you president of the world?"

"No."

"What if I stopped calling you 'Fluffy'?"

"No."

"What if I gave you my Millennium Rod?"

"No."

"What if I killed Yugi?"

"Tempting, but no."

"What if I gave you all of my pornographic comic books?"

This made Bakura pause as he considered it. "No."

"Then what in the name of crap do you want, Bakura?! I'm being squeezed to death by one of Cornelius' relatives!" The snake was now working on constricting Marik's legs.

Bakura grinned. "All you have to do is one little thing."

"Just hurry up and say it!"

"You have to promise that-"

"I promise!"

"I haven't even said-"

"You can tell me when I'm not being squeezed like a lemon, 'cause I ain't no lemon!"

"Fine." Bakura swiftly brought his blade down on the snake, cutting the head clean off.

Marik unwrapped himself and held the snake's limp body. "Now all I need is a piano and-"

"Does the promise still stand?"

"What promise?" Bakura's murderous glare jogged his memory. "Oh, Right. That promise. It still stands, yes. Now what is it that I promised you so that I wouldn't be subjugated?"

Bakura snorted. "I think you mean 'suffocated'."

"Fine, whatever. Just tell me what the frig I promised."

A grin spread across Bakura's face as he walked up to Marik, placing his face close to his. "When we get out of here, and after I have murdered that writer who sent us here, I'm going to ask you to do something for me, and you will have to do it without question."

"Why can't you just tell me to do it right now and get it over with?"

Bakura swallowed as he fought off the temptation to agree to it. "It's not something that I want to do out here." This was true. He didn't want an audience. Especially an audience of jungle animals and Artax. Although the thought of doing it here and now did sound a little exciting, and the images that flashed through his mind made his face flush. Not that Marik would be able to tell, what with Bakura being so pale. And the fact that Marik never paid attention to anything.

"Can't you at least tell me what it is?" Marik begged, like a child who wanted his parents to tell him what his birthday presents were five months in advance.

"Why spoil the fun?"

"I hate being in the dark!"

"That's too bad." Bakura's smile widened. "Because that will probably be a part of it." The two of them, in a pitch black room, using only their sense of touch to-

"I command you to tell me, Bakura!" Marik said as he pointed his Millennium Rod at Bakura. "I won't take this lying down!"

"Lying down . . ." In a bed. Bakura's bed. As they-

"Can't you just give me a hint or-" Marik cocked his head to one side. "Your nose is bleeding."

It took a moment for Bakura to snap back to reality, and when he did and saw that Marik was correct, he quickly wiped the blood away. "It's just the heat."

"Heat causes nosebleeds?"

"Sometimes."

"I've never gotten one."

"Probably because you live underground."

"True that, Bakura." Marik paused for a moment. "Now are you going to tell me or not?!"

"No." Bakura answered as he grabbed Artax's reins with one hand and continued to chop his way through the dense foliage with the other.

"But Bakura!"

"I said 'no', Marik."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me."

"No."

"TELL ME!"

This continued on for quite some time . . .