Part 21 ^_^
"Ahem."
"Um."
"Well."
"Isn't this nice?"
"Amanda," said Evan. "That's the third time you've said that."
She sighed. "I'm sorry. I thought this whole rebound-on-the-'right'-
colour thing would -youknow- make things easier at home."
"I thought your dad was pretty happy," said Evan.
"Huh," said Amanda.
"Deeper story?"
"You *bet* there is. All of my brothers thought Kurt was cool,
youknow? He taught 'em all how to cuss in German, and he showed Danny
how to juggle, and..." she sniffed. "I miss my fuzzy."
"Yeah," said Evan. "I get *that*."
"And now the whole house is - I dunno - steaming, now that I'm going
out with you. Mike even threatened to 'pound five colours of shit' out
of you if you did me wrong."
"Woo. K-man knows how to get liked," said Evan.
"I think it's because he's completely colour-blind. And body-blind. He
just doesn't see people by their skin."
Evan grinned. "I guess being blue and demonic-looking does that to a
guy."
Amanda giggled. Then she sniffed again. "I thought 'e was cute..." she
whimpered.
_*Why* did Amanda's dad *insist* on this date from hell? She's never
gonna forget the K-man..._ Evan sighed. Time to bring out the big guns.
"It's okay," he said. "See. I'm sorta like a substitute fuzzball." He
reached into an inner pocket and bought out a slightly abused piece of
paper. "He and I are the only people who can read his handwriting, and
he gave me this note for you. Lessee if I can get the intonation
right..." Evan cleared his throat, "Meine Geleibt," he read. "At great
risk I had to write this to you. I simply *had* to let you know--"
"Your German accent *sucks*," she laughed around tears. "Here. Let me
see." She peeked at the paper, bugged her eyes, and let Evan keep it. "I
don't get it. All his *other* notes to me have been really neat."
"K-man can only write two ways," said Evan. "Slow and neat or fast and
messy. He just can't 'do' fast and neat. It's the fingers. He was kinda
rushed writing this one."
"Yeah," Amanda sighed. "Jimaine's looking over his shoulder the whole
time."
"Shall I read on?" he asked. "Sucky accent and all?"
She smiled. "Yeah. Read on."
"Ahem. At great risk I write this to you. I simply *had* to let you
know that you are forever and always in mein heart. Though I may walk
beside Jimaine, I wish I were with you. I can't tell you of the hold she
has over me, but know that I'd risk everything that is mine to be with
you."
"Mmmmm..." said Amanda.
Evan continued. "My thoughts are with you, always; just as my fears
are for you and my friends. Please, meine Geleibt, keep something - some
symbol of something you believe in - with you at all times. Faith will
protect you, but it can't protect me. You *must* be protected, because I
can't bear to think of you in any danger. Be safe, my beloved, and be
well." Evan's imitation of Kurt had long since fallen. _Jeez... this
sounds like a suicide note. This is so wrong._
Amanda had obviously come to the same conclusion. "You've gotta show
that to the Professor."
Evan nodded. "*Yeah*."
"Alas, Geliebter, this is the best I could afford for us."
"It looks like a *barn*," she said. "I *trust* you got us a *booth*. I
refuse to lower myself to sitting on a *haybale*."
"Vas? We used to sit on haybales all the time."
"I am no longer a *child*," she said, voice threatening. "You would do
well to remember that."
Thank *God* he'd asked for somewhere secluded and 'romantic'. That
automatically got you a corner booth. "Never fret, Geliebter," he
smoothed, keeping up the act of being suave and flirtatious. "I make it
my business to know what a lady desires." He leaned on the counter.
"Reservation for Szardos and Wagner?"
The bimbo behind the counter, who wore an 'Ask for the rump' T-shirt,
chewed her gum and pressed buttons. "Here it is," she said in a fake
southern accent, "Table number twenny-wun. Fah-low me." Then she began
reciting her script in robotic and unconvincing tones. "Wey-ulcum to
Burnee's ste-yuk hauws, whar evrythin' is iyun Teyxus. Yeehaw. Iffun yew
should wawnt fer sumpthin', yew just clayng on thet thar cow beyul and
help'll come-a-runnin."
"[What did she say?]" Jimaine asked in Romani.
Kurt dutifully translated.
"Jest sit taht," she continued, "Yawr waitreyuss wiyull be alawng
quicker'n flahs on a cauw pah."
Kurt translated again.
"That's rather *slow*, isn't it?" said Jimaine. "Your average fly
takes up to an hour to find fresh dung."
"I just read the script, lady," she droned. "The real wait's ten to
fifteen minutes. Help yourselves to the peanuts." And then she left,
heading back to the foyer.
Kurt winced at something she said to a waitress.
"What did she say?"
Kurt cleared his throat. "Foreign wiseasses on twenty-one. Get Daria."
Jimaine absently helped herself to a peanut. "My, what a - fascinating
- place you've found for a first date. Next time, use one of those
credit cards you supposedly hate. Or perhaps three. I am not content to
*wallow* in the *muck* I was raised in."
"Wasn't there love, too?"
Jimaine rolled her eyes. "*Gott*, you're naive..."
"Ahem," A rather bored-looking teen in glasses, Bernie's Steak House
uniform and combat boots took a breath and read from a card in monotone.
"Yee-haw. My name's Daria an' Ah'll be yur - gopher - fer this evnin'.
Yew all jast ask fer it an' Ah'll go fer it lahk a shawt." She sighed
and put the card away. "My life has reached a new low. Here's your
menus," they flopped onto the table. She took out a notebook. "What's
your order?"
"The mega mongo meal looks good," said Kurt. "Medium well, danke. And
the baked potato."
"I'll have the seafood platter," said Jimaine, picking the most
expensive meal on the card. "With ceasar salad on the side."
"M cubed and cooked, spud, fried bait aaaaannnnnd Caligula," said
Daria as she scribbled in her notebook. "Anything for desert?"
"Schokolade mudslide, danke," said Kurt.
"Parfait paradise," said Jimaine "With all the trimmings."
"Mud pie and jello cup. Right. Drinks?"
"Do you have a wine list?" said Jimaine.
"You're kidding me," said Daria. "Closest this place has is a keg, and
you're both underage."
"Tch! *America*..." Jimaine scoffed.
Kurt smiled nervously. "We'll have soda, won't we, Geliebter?"
"*Ice-cream* soda," corrected Jimaine.
"Two ice-cream sodas, then," said Kurt. "Dankeschoen."
Daria made a note, then she read from the card. "Ah'll hop raht tew
iyut lahk a-- oh *God*... Ahem. Lahk a li'l ole bunny wiyuth a howt
foot." She sighed and trudged off. "The things I do for college
tuition..."
"Ah, Kitty. You have a visitor," the Professor announced.
_I'm going to kill him,_ Kitty thought. _I'm going to kill them both._
Hubert Hughes stood up and smiled. "Hi," he said. "You -ah- didn't say
anything about tonight, so -uhm- I thought I'd come over and-- You never
said you were grounded, Kitty."
"It's like, embarressing *enough* having to like, clean toilets and
junk without like, the whole school having to like, hear about it," said
Kitty. "And the whole school had *better* not hear about it."
"I don't *gossip*," said Hubert. "And even if I *did*, I'd never
gossip about *you*."
That twitch under her eye was back. "Well... Like, I *am* grounded, so
I can't really--"
"I think a little reprieve may help boost your spirits," said Xavier.
"And Hubert is such a nice young man."
_He's a *GEEK*!_ Her mind screamed.
_You need to work on your judgement skills, Kitty,_ the Professor
thought back. _The sooner, the better._
_I'm doomed..._
"I'm *not* going out like this," she said, gesturing at her blah
clothes - the stuff she wore during chores because she didn't care what
happened to it.
"There's more than enough time to go clean up and change," said
Hubert. "I - I really just came by to see if you were -youknow- okay."
_Eeeeewwww..._
"Go ahead, Kitty. After the hard work you've put in, you deserve a
little break."
_Doomed!_ She thought as she trudged towards her room. _I'm *doomed*!_
"Ahem."
"Um."
"Well."
"Isn't this nice?"
"Amanda," said Evan. "That's the third time you've said that."
She sighed. "I'm sorry. I thought this whole rebound-on-the-'right'-
colour thing would -youknow- make things easier at home."
"I thought your dad was pretty happy," said Evan.
"Huh," said Amanda.
"Deeper story?"
"You *bet* there is. All of my brothers thought Kurt was cool,
youknow? He taught 'em all how to cuss in German, and he showed Danny
how to juggle, and..." she sniffed. "I miss my fuzzy."
"Yeah," said Evan. "I get *that*."
"And now the whole house is - I dunno - steaming, now that I'm going
out with you. Mike even threatened to 'pound five colours of shit' out
of you if you did me wrong."
"Woo. K-man knows how to get liked," said Evan.
"I think it's because he's completely colour-blind. And body-blind. He
just doesn't see people by their skin."
Evan grinned. "I guess being blue and demonic-looking does that to a
guy."
Amanda giggled. Then she sniffed again. "I thought 'e was cute..." she
whimpered.
_*Why* did Amanda's dad *insist* on this date from hell? She's never
gonna forget the K-man..._ Evan sighed. Time to bring out the big guns.
"It's okay," he said. "See. I'm sorta like a substitute fuzzball." He
reached into an inner pocket and bought out a slightly abused piece of
paper. "He and I are the only people who can read his handwriting, and
he gave me this note for you. Lessee if I can get the intonation
right..." Evan cleared his throat, "Meine Geleibt," he read. "At great
risk I had to write this to you. I simply *had* to let you know--"
"Your German accent *sucks*," she laughed around tears. "Here. Let me
see." She peeked at the paper, bugged her eyes, and let Evan keep it. "I
don't get it. All his *other* notes to me have been really neat."
"K-man can only write two ways," said Evan. "Slow and neat or fast and
messy. He just can't 'do' fast and neat. It's the fingers. He was kinda
rushed writing this one."
"Yeah," Amanda sighed. "Jimaine's looking over his shoulder the whole
time."
"Shall I read on?" he asked. "Sucky accent and all?"
She smiled. "Yeah. Read on."
"Ahem. At great risk I write this to you. I simply *had* to let you
know that you are forever and always in mein heart. Though I may walk
beside Jimaine, I wish I were with you. I can't tell you of the hold she
has over me, but know that I'd risk everything that is mine to be with
you."
"Mmmmm..." said Amanda.
Evan continued. "My thoughts are with you, always; just as my fears
are for you and my friends. Please, meine Geleibt, keep something - some
symbol of something you believe in - with you at all times. Faith will
protect you, but it can't protect me. You *must* be protected, because I
can't bear to think of you in any danger. Be safe, my beloved, and be
well." Evan's imitation of Kurt had long since fallen. _Jeez... this
sounds like a suicide note. This is so wrong._
Amanda had obviously come to the same conclusion. "You've gotta show
that to the Professor."
Evan nodded. "*Yeah*."
"Alas, Geliebter, this is the best I could afford for us."
"It looks like a *barn*," she said. "I *trust* you got us a *booth*. I
refuse to lower myself to sitting on a *haybale*."
"Vas? We used to sit on haybales all the time."
"I am no longer a *child*," she said, voice threatening. "You would do
well to remember that."
Thank *God* he'd asked for somewhere secluded and 'romantic'. That
automatically got you a corner booth. "Never fret, Geliebter," he
smoothed, keeping up the act of being suave and flirtatious. "I make it
my business to know what a lady desires." He leaned on the counter.
"Reservation for Szardos and Wagner?"
The bimbo behind the counter, who wore an 'Ask for the rump' T-shirt,
chewed her gum and pressed buttons. "Here it is," she said in a fake
southern accent, "Table number twenny-wun. Fah-low me." Then she began
reciting her script in robotic and unconvincing tones. "Wey-ulcum to
Burnee's ste-yuk hauws, whar evrythin' is iyun Teyxus. Yeehaw. Iffun yew
should wawnt fer sumpthin', yew just clayng on thet thar cow beyul and
help'll come-a-runnin."
"[What did she say?]" Jimaine asked in Romani.
Kurt dutifully translated.
"Jest sit taht," she continued, "Yawr waitreyuss wiyull be alawng
quicker'n flahs on a cauw pah."
Kurt translated again.
"That's rather *slow*, isn't it?" said Jimaine. "Your average fly
takes up to an hour to find fresh dung."
"I just read the script, lady," she droned. "The real wait's ten to
fifteen minutes. Help yourselves to the peanuts." And then she left,
heading back to the foyer.
Kurt winced at something she said to a waitress.
"What did she say?"
Kurt cleared his throat. "Foreign wiseasses on twenty-one. Get Daria."
Jimaine absently helped herself to a peanut. "My, what a - fascinating
- place you've found for a first date. Next time, use one of those
credit cards you supposedly hate. Or perhaps three. I am not content to
*wallow* in the *muck* I was raised in."
"Wasn't there love, too?"
Jimaine rolled her eyes. "*Gott*, you're naive..."
"Ahem," A rather bored-looking teen in glasses, Bernie's Steak House
uniform and combat boots took a breath and read from a card in monotone.
"Yee-haw. My name's Daria an' Ah'll be yur - gopher - fer this evnin'.
Yew all jast ask fer it an' Ah'll go fer it lahk a shawt." She sighed
and put the card away. "My life has reached a new low. Here's your
menus," they flopped onto the table. She took out a notebook. "What's
your order?"
"The mega mongo meal looks good," said Kurt. "Medium well, danke. And
the baked potato."
"I'll have the seafood platter," said Jimaine, picking the most
expensive meal on the card. "With ceasar salad on the side."
"M cubed and cooked, spud, fried bait aaaaannnnnd Caligula," said
Daria as she scribbled in her notebook. "Anything for desert?"
"Schokolade mudslide, danke," said Kurt.
"Parfait paradise," said Jimaine "With all the trimmings."
"Mud pie and jello cup. Right. Drinks?"
"Do you have a wine list?" said Jimaine.
"You're kidding me," said Daria. "Closest this place has is a keg, and
you're both underage."
"Tch! *America*..." Jimaine scoffed.
Kurt smiled nervously. "We'll have soda, won't we, Geliebter?"
"*Ice-cream* soda," corrected Jimaine.
"Two ice-cream sodas, then," said Kurt. "Dankeschoen."
Daria made a note, then she read from the card. "Ah'll hop raht tew
iyut lahk a-- oh *God*... Ahem. Lahk a li'l ole bunny wiyuth a howt
foot." She sighed and trudged off. "The things I do for college
tuition..."
"Ah, Kitty. You have a visitor," the Professor announced.
_I'm going to kill him,_ Kitty thought. _I'm going to kill them both._
Hubert Hughes stood up and smiled. "Hi," he said. "You -ah- didn't say
anything about tonight, so -uhm- I thought I'd come over and-- You never
said you were grounded, Kitty."
"It's like, embarressing *enough* having to like, clean toilets and
junk without like, the whole school having to like, hear about it," said
Kitty. "And the whole school had *better* not hear about it."
"I don't *gossip*," said Hubert. "And even if I *did*, I'd never
gossip about *you*."
That twitch under her eye was back. "Well... Like, I *am* grounded, so
I can't really--"
"I think a little reprieve may help boost your spirits," said Xavier.
"And Hubert is such a nice young man."
_He's a *GEEK*!_ Her mind screamed.
_You need to work on your judgement skills, Kitty,_ the Professor
thought back. _The sooner, the better._
_I'm doomed..._
"I'm *not* going out like this," she said, gesturing at her blah
clothes - the stuff she wore during chores because she didn't care what
happened to it.
"There's more than enough time to go clean up and change," said
Hubert. "I - I really just came by to see if you were -youknow- okay."
_Eeeeewwww..._
"Go ahead, Kitty. After the hard work you've put in, you deserve a
little break."
_Doomed!_ She thought as she trudged towards her room. _I'm *doomed*!_