Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy 8 or anything by Mystikal/Usher
What could possibly be done to Irvine?
Hell, Zell couldn't think of anything. There was total silence in the room.
WAIT!
Someone was humming "I'm a Slave for You"!!
Who could it be? Who could be such a total and complete loser to actually like the screeching, slutty siren?
It was Irvine.
Then again, it was sort of predictable. After all, he was a cowboy- and didn't that explain a lot of things?
Zell knew Selphie had a huge collection of irritating CDs. He got up and got a chill (he's still in his nut-huggers, you know) and rummaged through the pile. It was nothing but pure shit- Christina Aguilera, Shakira, Enrique Inglesias, Jennifer Lopez, Spice Girls, and all 19 Backstreet Boys and Nsync albums. And there it was- the CD he was looking for.
Britney stared at Zell with plastic eyes.
Zell popped the CD into Selphie's stereo and turned the volume up as loud as possible.
"Okay, everyone!" he said, and pressed Play.
As the horrid music pealed from the stereo, the blood drained from Irvine's face. Zell had hit the nail right on the head. He'd uncovered his greatest weakness: he had a passion for sissy music.
It was all too much for the cowboy, and within a few moments he was up and copying the very same moves that Britney slaughtered in her video. He even yanked his pants down so they were barely hanging onto his hips.
Squall turned green.
Seifer became entranced and pulled money out of his trenchcoat and crawled over the where Irvine was dancing and shoved it into the cowboy's pants.
The girls were frozen with shock- but not Selphie. She had had no doubt in her mind that Irvine was a sissy boy.
The latter was now sweating with effort and totally into the dance. When the music finally died, he hit Play again. Even Seifer couldn't put up with that- he raised Hyperion above his head and brought it down full force onto the stereo, causing it to explode.
When the smoke finally cleared, Seifer was black with stuff. Everyone else was normal.
"Look what you've done to my stereo, you insolent motherfucking bastard!" screamed Selphie. "I hate you!"
"Oh, calm your hormones, you psycho bitch," Seifer grunted, trying his best to wipe of the black stuff. "You think you've got it bad-"
Squall broke into song.
"You got it, you got it bad- when you're on the phone
Hang up and then you call right back
You got it, you got it bad
When you miss a day without your friend and your life's off track
You know you got it bad when you stuck in the house
You don't wanna have fun 'cause all you think about
You got it bad when you're out with someone
But you keep on thinkin' bout somebody else
You got it bad!"
Everyone applauded him. Squall bowed and then sat back down, expressionless.
The funny thing was, he'd actually sounded a lot like Usher.
Irvine wasn't dancing anymore. He just couldn't dance without Britney's help.
"As I was saying," Seifer raised his voice, "I've got it worse than you cuz this black shit has totally spoiled my makeup!"
Then Seifer realized what he'd just said, and clapped his hand over his mouth.
But it was too late.
The group was rolling with laughter. Seifer began to cry.
Selphie recovered and stood up.
"That was the shit!" she said. "Oki doki, Irvine, it's your turn now."
"Fuck," said Irvine, who was terrible at coming up with ideas. He pulled his pants up to their normal resting level and chewed his thumbnail.
Zell was turning blue with cold.
"Fine, asshole!" Seifer growled, throwing his trenchcoat at Zell.
Zell was very confused.
Fifteen minutes passed with no response form Irvine. The girls were all asleep and Squall was drooling over a Playgirl and Zell was snuggled up with Seifer.
Irvine's eyes lit up suddenly and the infamous lightbulb appeared over his head.
"I've got it!" he shouted triumphantly.
The girls woke up, Squall threw the Playgirl under the bed and Zell and Seifer scurried to opposite ends of the room.
"Seifer."
"Wait!" interrupted Quistis. "Squall hasn't had a turn yet."
"Leave that one to me," Seifer said.
This will be great, thought Irvine, the best of them all.
What could possibly be done to Irvine?
Hell, Zell couldn't think of anything. There was total silence in the room.
WAIT!
Someone was humming "I'm a Slave for You"!!
Who could it be? Who could be such a total and complete loser to actually like the screeching, slutty siren?
It was Irvine.
Then again, it was sort of predictable. After all, he was a cowboy- and didn't that explain a lot of things?
Zell knew Selphie had a huge collection of irritating CDs. He got up and got a chill (he's still in his nut-huggers, you know) and rummaged through the pile. It was nothing but pure shit- Christina Aguilera, Shakira, Enrique Inglesias, Jennifer Lopez, Spice Girls, and all 19 Backstreet Boys and Nsync albums. And there it was- the CD he was looking for.
Britney stared at Zell with plastic eyes.
Zell popped the CD into Selphie's stereo and turned the volume up as loud as possible.
"Okay, everyone!" he said, and pressed Play.
As the horrid music pealed from the stereo, the blood drained from Irvine's face. Zell had hit the nail right on the head. He'd uncovered his greatest weakness: he had a passion for sissy music.
It was all too much for the cowboy, and within a few moments he was up and copying the very same moves that Britney slaughtered in her video. He even yanked his pants down so they were barely hanging onto his hips.
Squall turned green.
Seifer became entranced and pulled money out of his trenchcoat and crawled over the where Irvine was dancing and shoved it into the cowboy's pants.
The girls were frozen with shock- but not Selphie. She had had no doubt in her mind that Irvine was a sissy boy.
The latter was now sweating with effort and totally into the dance. When the music finally died, he hit Play again. Even Seifer couldn't put up with that- he raised Hyperion above his head and brought it down full force onto the stereo, causing it to explode.
When the smoke finally cleared, Seifer was black with stuff. Everyone else was normal.
"Look what you've done to my stereo, you insolent motherfucking bastard!" screamed Selphie. "I hate you!"
"Oh, calm your hormones, you psycho bitch," Seifer grunted, trying his best to wipe of the black stuff. "You think you've got it bad-"
Squall broke into song.
"You got it, you got it bad- when you're on the phone
Hang up and then you call right back
You got it, you got it bad
When you miss a day without your friend and your life's off track
You know you got it bad when you stuck in the house
You don't wanna have fun 'cause all you think about
You got it bad when you're out with someone
But you keep on thinkin' bout somebody else
You got it bad!"
Everyone applauded him. Squall bowed and then sat back down, expressionless.
The funny thing was, he'd actually sounded a lot like Usher.
Irvine wasn't dancing anymore. He just couldn't dance without Britney's help.
"As I was saying," Seifer raised his voice, "I've got it worse than you cuz this black shit has totally spoiled my makeup!"
Then Seifer realized what he'd just said, and clapped his hand over his mouth.
But it was too late.
The group was rolling with laughter. Seifer began to cry.
Selphie recovered and stood up.
"That was the shit!" she said. "Oki doki, Irvine, it's your turn now."
"Fuck," said Irvine, who was terrible at coming up with ideas. He pulled his pants up to their normal resting level and chewed his thumbnail.
Zell was turning blue with cold.
"Fine, asshole!" Seifer growled, throwing his trenchcoat at Zell.
Zell was very confused.
Fifteen minutes passed with no response form Irvine. The girls were all asleep and Squall was drooling over a Playgirl and Zell was snuggled up with Seifer.
Irvine's eyes lit up suddenly and the infamous lightbulb appeared over his head.
"I've got it!" he shouted triumphantly.
The girls woke up, Squall threw the Playgirl under the bed and Zell and Seifer scurried to opposite ends of the room.
"Seifer."
"Wait!" interrupted Quistis. "Squall hasn't had a turn yet."
"Leave that one to me," Seifer said.
This will be great, thought Irvine, the best of them all.