A.N.: Okay, a little slower coming with this chapter. I apologize. ^_^ I
just recently RESTARTED Snakes and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails, and am in
the process of revamping the whole thing. Plus, got two novels, and a
comic, and.my life has been hectic. I will attempt to be better.
Did anybody get the Bagel reference? FOAMY THE SQUIRREL RULES!!!
"A date. For Marky."
Maureen stretched her arms up over her head, and looked over at Mimi. "Do you have any idea where we're supposed to find this guy a date?"
"Honestly?" Mimi looked at her, "not a fucking clue."
They walked. Sufficiently perplexed.
"Well, you dated him. What kinda girls does he like?"
"I dunno." Maureen shrugged. "Girls like me?"
"Does that mean we've gotta walk all around New York City trying to find prostitutes? 'Cause I wore heels."
"Oh, like you can talk!" Maureen smacked her on the shoulder, laughed. Mimi bared a toothy grin. "Maybe we should stop by your work."
"Marky dserves a little better than some exotic dancer."
"Hey, you never know. There must be a few good matches there. Look at you and Roger."
Mimi deadpanned at Maureen.
"Look, you know more about dating chicks than I do. What kind of girls do you like?"
"Hm." Maureen placed a finger to her lips, and looked contemplative. Mimi seriously doubted if much thinking ever went on in that head.
"Feel free to stop if it starts to hurt."
"Huh?" Mo scratched the back of her head, and then stopped. "That's it!"
"That's what?"
"You know that place? The one.oh, geez, it's, like," Maureen gestured her hands in frustration, "that way. The video store, the one that only sells independent films. Maybe there's a girl working there."
"A girl who likes filmmaking," Mimi nodded her head. "I think you're on to something. Definitely."
"Okay, so onward to-" Maureen pointed her finger east, and then stopped, "um.I don't remember the name of the store."
"Neither do I." Mimi ran her tongue over her teeth. "But I know what it looks like."
"Uh huh. Me too. So, onward-Thataway!"
They marched with a renewed purpose.
--
Collins and Joanne sat on a bench, legal pads and pens in hand.
"Life café. That's a given. Mark's comfortable there, so that's one less thing for him to be nervous about."
"Got it. Life café, check." Joanne made a note, then leaned back. "So how many places does that make?"
"Counting Life café?" Collins looked at his notes. "One."
"Oh well, hell."
"Well, where else would you go on a date? A fancy restaurant?"
"Mark's broke, remember?"
"Oh yeah." Collins pinched the bridge of his nose, and thought. "How about.Central Park? Classic date spot."
"Yeah, okay." Joanne penned it in. "Couldn't hurt. We need someplace romantic.Where do you and Angel go?"
Collins looked up at the sky. "Everywhere. I guess.we go to the ice skating rink.but some of the smaller ones. The big ones are a pain in the ass, they're always crowded."
"Okay. That's good. Small ice skating rink. What else?"
"Picnics."
"Picnic. Check. Okay, this is getting a little easier."
"So where do you and Maureen go?"
"Um, sex shops." Joanne looked sheepish. "Maureen's a vibrator fanatic."
"That was a piece of information I didn't need to know," Collins grimaced.
"Well, you asked."
"Where else do you go?"
"Not much else." Joanne shrugged. "We don't do a lot of 'dates,' persay."
"I see."
"Yeah. I'm envious of you and Angel, to be perfectly honest."
"Envious?" Collins looked surprise, and amused. "I'd like to see you live with him!"
"Is he really that bad?"
"Oh, I'm crazy about him. Don't get me wrong. Love him to death. But he's just so." Collins gestured, unable to grasp a word, "he gets very excited when he gets an idea. It's like, he sinks his teeth into an idea and he won't let go. And, of course, I'm always dragged into it."
"Maureen can be the same way."
"He went on a feed the homeless kick last month. Every damn dollar he made he put towards the cause. You shoulda seen him, tromping around in those heels carrying box after box of food to the tent cities and things." Collins laughed. "He's a nutcase."
"That's nice of him, at least."
"Nice. A pain in the ass-homeless people can't go a single moment without food, of course. But Tom, oh, Tom can go a whole month on half a Cheerio he snuck from a box and tea!"
"You're kidding."
"No," Collins laughed, "I'm not." He tapped his pen on the legal pad.
"Still love him, though." Joanne shook her head. "We always still love 'em. Even when they are nuts."
"We are very sad people."
"We're better off than Mark."
"That is true."
--
"Wait. How are we even supposed to do this? I've never even seen this guy, and we're expected to pick out stuff for him to wear and everything?"
"Not like you'll be much help," Lee threw a bundle of socks at Measha's head. "You're not exactly the model for perfect fashion sense."
A beeper went off. Lee checked it quickly, and dug into his pocket. "AZT break," he mumbled.
Measha bounced the sock like a hackey-sack. Lee took the medicine as discreetly as he could, before shoving the stuff back in his pocket and catching the sock midair.
"Where's Sasha?"
"He and Shelby went over to his work to see if they couldn't come up with something there."
"Must be nice to have access to all that stuff."
"Yeah. The perks of being a fashion photographer." Measha and Lee tossed the socks back and forth as they talked.
"So.do you have the picture Angel gave us?"
"Yhep," Measha held it up. A pale, blonde-haired man with glasses stood in the picture. He looked fairly uncomfortable. Not bad. Not good, but not bad. And sorely lacking in confidence.
"So, here's our subject. Angel says he's medium height, which would put him about.an inch taller than you." Lee moved his hand over Measha's head. "Maybe two."
"Are you making fun of my height?"
"Why of course not."
"Hey!" A short man with brightly-colored clothes approached them in quick angry steps. "You two! What are you doing?"
"Looking." Measha looked the picture of innocense.
"Why are you throwing my merchandise?"
"Because it's ugly," Lee made a face and held up the socks. "They deserved to be thrown."
"They wanted to be thrown. They just started screaming: 'I'm hideous! Throw me! I don't deserve to live!'" Measha clasped his hand to his forehead, throwing his head back and wailing.
Several other storegoers turned to look at his display of melodrama.
"If you two clowns are going to throw my stuff, then you're out." He pointed to the door.
Lee made a clicking noise in the back of his mouth, and shook his head. "Fine. Don't believe us. Just don't blame me when nobody buys those socks because they're ugly."
Measha stood back up. "Does that mean we're leaving."
Lee shrugged. "Guess so."
"Stupid faggots." The manager hissed unhappily under his breath.
Measha couldn't resist it. "And what are you, lime-green-manager-sir? A lesbian?"
The mad cackle that followed could be heard even after they left the store.
--
"You have the picture?"
"Yhep.Aw! He looks like a puppy?"
"Here, lemme see." Sasha made a face. "Not exactly what you'd call good looking, is he?"
"I think he's cute." Shelby stuck out his tongue. "So there."
"You keep sticking your tongue out at me, and I'm gonna tape it to the stove."
"Sasha, if you wanna go S/M, you could just tell me."
Sasha opened his mouth to reply, his intern, (who's name was Michael), seemingly popped out of nowhere. Sasha had noticed that he had a tendancy to do that.
"Hey Sasha."
"Hello Michael."
"I thought you had off today."
"I do. I need to look in the clothes room."
"Really?" He followed him as they walked. "I got those papers done like you asked me. They're all filled out and ready to be sent."
"Great. Put them on my desk."
"Already done." Michael beamed, looking up at Sasha. His gaze fell on Shelby, then to Sasha's arm threaded around the boy's waist. "Who's that?"
"Shelby, Michael. Michael, Shelby."
"I'm his boyfriend," Shelby smiled and held out his hand. There wasn't a trace of smugness on him.
"Oh." Michael nodded, and looked down. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."
"Now you do." Sasha pulled out a pair of keys to open the door to the clothing room. Shelby bounded in through the door, and Sasha turned to look at Michael. "Don't you have, like, paperwork to do, or something?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure."
"Great."
Sasha nodded, and joined Shelby in the room, closing the door behind him. Shelby hopped over to him, proudly displaying a pair of light blue leather pants.
"Sasha, I think we should steal these, just for me."
"Shelby, how about we come back later, when we don't have to help Angel, and then I let you go wild with your costume fetish." He pushed Shelby up against the wall, and kissed his neck. "Now, however, we have to find clothes for him."
Shelby looked at the picture Sasha held up, then looked at Sasha, then looked down at the picture. "I think you're a spoil sport. And I think," he stuffed the blue leather pants in the dance bag he'd brought, "that I'm gonna wear these later and not let you play."
--
A.N.: I realize that I have included the beginnings of the escapades of each group, excluding Cor and Cal and Roger. They're in the next chapter, because they're kind of a special case AND my hands were getting tired and I wanted to post SOMETHING because I've been a bad chapter updater as of late.
Did anybody get the Bagel reference? FOAMY THE SQUIRREL RULES!!!
"A date. For Marky."
Maureen stretched her arms up over her head, and looked over at Mimi. "Do you have any idea where we're supposed to find this guy a date?"
"Honestly?" Mimi looked at her, "not a fucking clue."
They walked. Sufficiently perplexed.
"Well, you dated him. What kinda girls does he like?"
"I dunno." Maureen shrugged. "Girls like me?"
"Does that mean we've gotta walk all around New York City trying to find prostitutes? 'Cause I wore heels."
"Oh, like you can talk!" Maureen smacked her on the shoulder, laughed. Mimi bared a toothy grin. "Maybe we should stop by your work."
"Marky dserves a little better than some exotic dancer."
"Hey, you never know. There must be a few good matches there. Look at you and Roger."
Mimi deadpanned at Maureen.
"Look, you know more about dating chicks than I do. What kind of girls do you like?"
"Hm." Maureen placed a finger to her lips, and looked contemplative. Mimi seriously doubted if much thinking ever went on in that head.
"Feel free to stop if it starts to hurt."
"Huh?" Mo scratched the back of her head, and then stopped. "That's it!"
"That's what?"
"You know that place? The one.oh, geez, it's, like," Maureen gestured her hands in frustration, "that way. The video store, the one that only sells independent films. Maybe there's a girl working there."
"A girl who likes filmmaking," Mimi nodded her head. "I think you're on to something. Definitely."
"Okay, so onward to-" Maureen pointed her finger east, and then stopped, "um.I don't remember the name of the store."
"Neither do I." Mimi ran her tongue over her teeth. "But I know what it looks like."
"Uh huh. Me too. So, onward-Thataway!"
They marched with a renewed purpose.
--
Collins and Joanne sat on a bench, legal pads and pens in hand.
"Life café. That's a given. Mark's comfortable there, so that's one less thing for him to be nervous about."
"Got it. Life café, check." Joanne made a note, then leaned back. "So how many places does that make?"
"Counting Life café?" Collins looked at his notes. "One."
"Oh well, hell."
"Well, where else would you go on a date? A fancy restaurant?"
"Mark's broke, remember?"
"Oh yeah." Collins pinched the bridge of his nose, and thought. "How about.Central Park? Classic date spot."
"Yeah, okay." Joanne penned it in. "Couldn't hurt. We need someplace romantic.Where do you and Angel go?"
Collins looked up at the sky. "Everywhere. I guess.we go to the ice skating rink.but some of the smaller ones. The big ones are a pain in the ass, they're always crowded."
"Okay. That's good. Small ice skating rink. What else?"
"Picnics."
"Picnic. Check. Okay, this is getting a little easier."
"So where do you and Maureen go?"
"Um, sex shops." Joanne looked sheepish. "Maureen's a vibrator fanatic."
"That was a piece of information I didn't need to know," Collins grimaced.
"Well, you asked."
"Where else do you go?"
"Not much else." Joanne shrugged. "We don't do a lot of 'dates,' persay."
"I see."
"Yeah. I'm envious of you and Angel, to be perfectly honest."
"Envious?" Collins looked surprise, and amused. "I'd like to see you live with him!"
"Is he really that bad?"
"Oh, I'm crazy about him. Don't get me wrong. Love him to death. But he's just so." Collins gestured, unable to grasp a word, "he gets very excited when he gets an idea. It's like, he sinks his teeth into an idea and he won't let go. And, of course, I'm always dragged into it."
"Maureen can be the same way."
"He went on a feed the homeless kick last month. Every damn dollar he made he put towards the cause. You shoulda seen him, tromping around in those heels carrying box after box of food to the tent cities and things." Collins laughed. "He's a nutcase."
"That's nice of him, at least."
"Nice. A pain in the ass-homeless people can't go a single moment without food, of course. But Tom, oh, Tom can go a whole month on half a Cheerio he snuck from a box and tea!"
"You're kidding."
"No," Collins laughed, "I'm not." He tapped his pen on the legal pad.
"Still love him, though." Joanne shook her head. "We always still love 'em. Even when they are nuts."
"We are very sad people."
"We're better off than Mark."
"That is true."
--
"Wait. How are we even supposed to do this? I've never even seen this guy, and we're expected to pick out stuff for him to wear and everything?"
"Not like you'll be much help," Lee threw a bundle of socks at Measha's head. "You're not exactly the model for perfect fashion sense."
A beeper went off. Lee checked it quickly, and dug into his pocket. "AZT break," he mumbled.
Measha bounced the sock like a hackey-sack. Lee took the medicine as discreetly as he could, before shoving the stuff back in his pocket and catching the sock midair.
"Where's Sasha?"
"He and Shelby went over to his work to see if they couldn't come up with something there."
"Must be nice to have access to all that stuff."
"Yeah. The perks of being a fashion photographer." Measha and Lee tossed the socks back and forth as they talked.
"So.do you have the picture Angel gave us?"
"Yhep," Measha held it up. A pale, blonde-haired man with glasses stood in the picture. He looked fairly uncomfortable. Not bad. Not good, but not bad. And sorely lacking in confidence.
"So, here's our subject. Angel says he's medium height, which would put him about.an inch taller than you." Lee moved his hand over Measha's head. "Maybe two."
"Are you making fun of my height?"
"Why of course not."
"Hey!" A short man with brightly-colored clothes approached them in quick angry steps. "You two! What are you doing?"
"Looking." Measha looked the picture of innocense.
"Why are you throwing my merchandise?"
"Because it's ugly," Lee made a face and held up the socks. "They deserved to be thrown."
"They wanted to be thrown. They just started screaming: 'I'm hideous! Throw me! I don't deserve to live!'" Measha clasped his hand to his forehead, throwing his head back and wailing.
Several other storegoers turned to look at his display of melodrama.
"If you two clowns are going to throw my stuff, then you're out." He pointed to the door.
Lee made a clicking noise in the back of his mouth, and shook his head. "Fine. Don't believe us. Just don't blame me when nobody buys those socks because they're ugly."
Measha stood back up. "Does that mean we're leaving."
Lee shrugged. "Guess so."
"Stupid faggots." The manager hissed unhappily under his breath.
Measha couldn't resist it. "And what are you, lime-green-manager-sir? A lesbian?"
The mad cackle that followed could be heard even after they left the store.
--
"You have the picture?"
"Yhep.Aw! He looks like a puppy?"
"Here, lemme see." Sasha made a face. "Not exactly what you'd call good looking, is he?"
"I think he's cute." Shelby stuck out his tongue. "So there."
"You keep sticking your tongue out at me, and I'm gonna tape it to the stove."
"Sasha, if you wanna go S/M, you could just tell me."
Sasha opened his mouth to reply, his intern, (who's name was Michael), seemingly popped out of nowhere. Sasha had noticed that he had a tendancy to do that.
"Hey Sasha."
"Hello Michael."
"I thought you had off today."
"I do. I need to look in the clothes room."
"Really?" He followed him as they walked. "I got those papers done like you asked me. They're all filled out and ready to be sent."
"Great. Put them on my desk."
"Already done." Michael beamed, looking up at Sasha. His gaze fell on Shelby, then to Sasha's arm threaded around the boy's waist. "Who's that?"
"Shelby, Michael. Michael, Shelby."
"I'm his boyfriend," Shelby smiled and held out his hand. There wasn't a trace of smugness on him.
"Oh." Michael nodded, and looked down. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."
"Now you do." Sasha pulled out a pair of keys to open the door to the clothing room. Shelby bounded in through the door, and Sasha turned to look at Michael. "Don't you have, like, paperwork to do, or something?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure."
"Great."
Sasha nodded, and joined Shelby in the room, closing the door behind him. Shelby hopped over to him, proudly displaying a pair of light blue leather pants.
"Sasha, I think we should steal these, just for me."
"Shelby, how about we come back later, when we don't have to help Angel, and then I let you go wild with your costume fetish." He pushed Shelby up against the wall, and kissed his neck. "Now, however, we have to find clothes for him."
Shelby looked at the picture Sasha held up, then looked at Sasha, then looked down at the picture. "I think you're a spoil sport. And I think," he stuffed the blue leather pants in the dance bag he'd brought, "that I'm gonna wear these later and not let you play."
--
A.N.: I realize that I have included the beginnings of the escapades of each group, excluding Cor and Cal and Roger. They're in the next chapter, because they're kind of a special case AND my hands were getting tired and I wanted to post SOMETHING because I've been a bad chapter updater as of late.
