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"ONLY ON BTV"
-Fanfiction by RAVEgirl [RAVEgirl_669@hotmail.com]
-Bust-A-Groove and all characters are (c) 989 Studios, Avex Trax, Enix, Frame Graphics, and Metro
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~Ch. 3: ELEVATOR OPERATOR
The 3 Homeys, Shorty, and the other dancers located their hotel rooms throughout the hotel as the sun went down in the sky . . . .
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Shorty was giving herself a little pep talk. "Alright, Shorty," she mumbled quietly. "This is going to be a GOOD experience for me!" Away from school, and away from home, she felt like she could reinvent herself. Here, at the "Bust-A-Groove" competition, she wanted to be mature and have lots of friends. Starting -- now!!! --
"Wow this is a nice hotel isn't it?" Shorty commented in a friendly way to one of the other dancers, a tanned teenage girl with blue-ish hair and camouflage pants.
The teenage girl barely turned her head to look at Shorty. "Umm yeah. Sure."
"I'll talk to you later!" Shorty forced herself to be friendly while the older girl walked away. "Bitch," Shorty said very quietly. She lugged her huge suitcase down the hall to the elevator.
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Heat and Hiro walked down the hall of the hotel.
"So," Heat said. "Hey -- I'm talking to you, um, Hino."
"Hiro!!!" corrected Hiro angrily. He was busily coming his hair and admiring his reflection in a hand mirror that said "I (love) me" on it. His hair was kind of darkish brown with a blondish tint to it. He thought it was hot.
"You love you? Oh, jeez," Heat groaned.
They came to a turn in the hallway. Heat walked around the corner but Hiro walked into a wall because he was preoccupied with himself. His eyes bugged out and his cigarette fell out of his mouth.
"AHAHAHAHAHAH!!! AAAAAHHAAAAHHAAA!!!!" Heat laughed so much he was starting to get a side-stitch.
Hiro brushed his leisure suit off and got a new cigarette. He patted his hair and tried to look totally calm except for the fact that his face was burning.
"You're hi-larious," Heat chuckled. They were now in front of the elevator so Heat pressed the UP button.
"Hey, you guys, um, hold the elevator?" Shorty walked up, dragging her suitcase.
"Hey, um, you, um, alright," Heat mocked her. He nudged Hiro. "Hey look it's Punky Brewster!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!" He thought that was funny.
"Who's Punky Brewster?" said Hiro and Shorty at the same time.
The elevator door ding'ed open. Heat ran inside.
Hiro looked down at Shorty. "Can I help you?" he said to her.
"Wh-what? Oh um yeah, thank you!!!" Shorty stuttered while Hiro took her suitcase for her and walked in the elevator.
Heat pressed all the buttons so the elevator stopped on every floor.
"You DUMBASS," Hiro said to Heat. Hiro had learned the word, "dumbass" pretty quickly after having it used on him a couple of times.
"Well if they didn't want me to press the buttons, they shouldn't have put the buttons there," Heat said flippantly.
The 2 of the 3 Homeys suddenly noticed the young Shorty staring up at them. They stared back down at her.
Shorty looked at the bullet-hole-riddled beanie on Heat's head. Suddenly she recognized Heat and Hiro as the troublemakers her father warned her to avoid. Her eyes grew wide. What if they tried to mug her or kill her while they were stuck inside the elevator?
"Why are you looking at us like that?" Heat said finally.
"N-nothing, I mean, no reason -- I just -- hey aren't you that r-racecar driver?" Shorty said with a nervous smile.
Heat picked up Shorty and shook her. "RAAAAAAARGH I WAS a racecar driver!! I WAS!!!!!"
"Put her down," Hiro said.
"No you put her down!" Heat screamed as he put Shorty down. He now had a pouty look on his face after being reminded of his suddenly-terminated racing career.
"Ummm well whaddaya know? This is my floor!! See you guys later (hopefully not)," Shorty called out as she took her suitcase from Hiro and ran out the door. Well, it wasn't really her floor, but she suddenly had this urge to take the stairs after being shaken by the bad boy Heat.
Hiro laughed at the last comment Shorty had said. Heat was frowning.
"She is only a little girl," Hiro said, blowing smoke out of his mouth. "You didn't have to scare her."
"Shut up, I hate you," Heat said.
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(Strike's room)
Strike was sprawled out on his bed staring at the ceiling . . . .
Knock-knock-knock.
"WHAT," Strike yelled without getting up.
On the other side of the door, Heat stifled a giggle and said with a Spanish accent, "Room service."
Strike got up and opened the door. Heat was grinning stupidly at him on the other side.
"Ugh," Strike said. He closed the door.
Heat knocked again.
Strike re-opened the door. "Go AWAY."
"Wanna come get dinner with me and Here-o?"
"Hell no."
"Hiro's paying!" Heat said enticingly.
"I AM NOT," Hiro yelled.
"I do not wanna go anywhere with you morons!" Strike said clearly, enunciating the important words.
"But we're the 3 Homeys," Heat reminded Strike. "Come on, come out to dinner with your dancin' brothers."
"Number one, never say 'brothers' again. Number two, Hiro's paying?" Strike said. The 3 Homeys . . . that was Strike's idea to win . . . these two poor suckers, Hiro and Heat, had no idea how much they'd be manipulated . . . .
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"ONLY ON BTV"
-Fanfiction by RAVEgirl [RAVEgirl_669@hotmail.com]
-Bust-A-Groove and all characters are (c) 989 Studios, Avex Trax, Enix, Frame Graphics, and Metro
=*=*=*=*=*=*=
~Ch. 3: ELEVATOR OPERATOR
The 3 Homeys, Shorty, and the other dancers located their hotel rooms throughout the hotel as the sun went down in the sky . . . .
=*=
Shorty was giving herself a little pep talk. "Alright, Shorty," she mumbled quietly. "This is going to be a GOOD experience for me!" Away from school, and away from home, she felt like she could reinvent herself. Here, at the "Bust-A-Groove" competition, she wanted to be mature and have lots of friends. Starting -- now!!! --
"Wow this is a nice hotel isn't it?" Shorty commented in a friendly way to one of the other dancers, a tanned teenage girl with blue-ish hair and camouflage pants.
The teenage girl barely turned her head to look at Shorty. "Umm yeah. Sure."
"I'll talk to you later!" Shorty forced herself to be friendly while the older girl walked away. "Bitch," Shorty said very quietly. She lugged her huge suitcase down the hall to the elevator.
=*=
Heat and Hiro walked down the hall of the hotel.
"So," Heat said. "Hey -- I'm talking to you, um, Hino."
"Hiro!!!" corrected Hiro angrily. He was busily coming his hair and admiring his reflection in a hand mirror that said "I (love) me" on it. His hair was kind of darkish brown with a blondish tint to it. He thought it was hot.
"You love you? Oh, jeez," Heat groaned.
They came to a turn in the hallway. Heat walked around the corner but Hiro walked into a wall because he was preoccupied with himself. His eyes bugged out and his cigarette fell out of his mouth.
"AHAHAHAHAHAH!!! AAAAAHHAAAAHHAAA!!!!" Heat laughed so much he was starting to get a side-stitch.
Hiro brushed his leisure suit off and got a new cigarette. He patted his hair and tried to look totally calm except for the fact that his face was burning.
"You're hi-larious," Heat chuckled. They were now in front of the elevator so Heat pressed the UP button.
"Hey, you guys, um, hold the elevator?" Shorty walked up, dragging her suitcase.
"Hey, um, you, um, alright," Heat mocked her. He nudged Hiro. "Hey look it's Punky Brewster!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!" He thought that was funny.
"Who's Punky Brewster?" said Hiro and Shorty at the same time.
The elevator door ding'ed open. Heat ran inside.
Hiro looked down at Shorty. "Can I help you?" he said to her.
"Wh-what? Oh um yeah, thank you!!!" Shorty stuttered while Hiro took her suitcase for her and walked in the elevator.
Heat pressed all the buttons so the elevator stopped on every floor.
"You DUMBASS," Hiro said to Heat. Hiro had learned the word, "dumbass" pretty quickly after having it used on him a couple of times.
"Well if they didn't want me to press the buttons, they shouldn't have put the buttons there," Heat said flippantly.
The 2 of the 3 Homeys suddenly noticed the young Shorty staring up at them. They stared back down at her.
Shorty looked at the bullet-hole-riddled beanie on Heat's head. Suddenly she recognized Heat and Hiro as the troublemakers her father warned her to avoid. Her eyes grew wide. What if they tried to mug her or kill her while they were stuck inside the elevator?
"Why are you looking at us like that?" Heat said finally.
"N-nothing, I mean, no reason -- I just -- hey aren't you that r-racecar driver?" Shorty said with a nervous smile.
Heat picked up Shorty and shook her. "RAAAAAAARGH I WAS a racecar driver!! I WAS!!!!!"
"Put her down," Hiro said.
"No you put her down!" Heat screamed as he put Shorty down. He now had a pouty look on his face after being reminded of his suddenly-terminated racing career.
"Ummm well whaddaya know? This is my floor!! See you guys later (hopefully not)," Shorty called out as she took her suitcase from Hiro and ran out the door. Well, it wasn't really her floor, but she suddenly had this urge to take the stairs after being shaken by the bad boy Heat.
Hiro laughed at the last comment Shorty had said. Heat was frowning.
"She is only a little girl," Hiro said, blowing smoke out of his mouth. "You didn't have to scare her."
"Shut up, I hate you," Heat said.
=*=
(Strike's room)
Strike was sprawled out on his bed staring at the ceiling . . . .
Knock-knock-knock.
"WHAT," Strike yelled without getting up.
On the other side of the door, Heat stifled a giggle and said with a Spanish accent, "Room service."
Strike got up and opened the door. Heat was grinning stupidly at him on the other side.
"Ugh," Strike said. He closed the door.
Heat knocked again.
Strike re-opened the door. "Go AWAY."
"Wanna come get dinner with me and Here-o?"
"Hell no."
"Hiro's paying!" Heat said enticingly.
"I AM NOT," Hiro yelled.
"I do not wanna go anywhere with you morons!" Strike said clearly, enunciating the important words.
"But we're the 3 Homeys," Heat reminded Strike. "Come on, come out to dinner with your dancin' brothers."
"Number one, never say 'brothers' again. Number two, Hiro's paying?" Strike said. The 3 Homeys . . . that was Strike's idea to win . . . these two poor suckers, Hiro and Heat, had no idea how much they'd be manipulated . . . .
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