~*~Chapter 5~*~
Alright so lately, as in like the past two hours, I've been pondering and brooding and doing all that poetic Shakespearian shit. My little internal adventures have led me to put forth a series of philosophical enquiries about events relating directly to my life as pertains to the current passage of instances...
How exactly might one go about defining a word such as, oh I don't know, 'date' for example? What exactly does said word entail and encompass? How should one fully articulate the meaning of such a minuscule grouping of letters? It was all so up in the air, reminiscent of many an in-flight foul fowl. Several hours of concentrated mulling really did escort me right into a variety of responses.
One might be wont to describe 'date' as an increment of time to be set according to the earth's gravitational rotations. Another folk of the scholarly set could very well take the approach of 'date' being an oblong, sole-pitted tropical substance from the Familius Figgius. And perhaps one of a more jaded global view may go on to describe 'date' as pertaining to the accidentally arrangement of two mismatched masculine folk who, in the vain hopes of avoiding certain moronic buffoons of both the sexes, decided to undertake said arrangement with which to shun social etiquette and moral boundaries in a grand scheme of deceit, high fibbery and dejection of spirit.
"Don't worry guys don't worry, I found the other boot." Yohji held up a lone, lime-green crocodile cowboy boot, complete with tin spur, stacked heel and pointed toe.
It has been said, by who Nararihyon knows, that the third is the one with the hairy chest. Ever since about twelve minutes ago I've been checking for a smattering pectoral rug. Not so much luck yet but I'm not gonna be holding in any air...might be letting some out though.
"I paid $350 US for these bitches and I'm gonna lend 'em to you for free."
I ground my bicuspids together and scowled as viciously as I could. "I'm not wearing those scales!"
"Hey are you okay Ken?" Omi huffed into my room, his twiggy arms loaded with rags. "Don't tell me you're getting jittery!"
Yohji peered down his nose at me. "Yeah man, you look a little, you know, constipated."
Say what now? What the hell kinda clam chowder is this?! Who looks constipated? I was pissed off, by Buddha's bronchiole, not having some goddamn shitter's cramp! "Holy petunia I'm fine! And I already told you that I don't need your stupid help and I have shoes for Ling Tao's sake!"
Omi and Yohji gave each other eyeballs...as though to communicate cranially that I had pebbles in my potting soil.
"Shoes you say?" Omi made a production of looking at my sneakers that sat in a heap by the door.
Yohji's voice was snooty with the pride of his supposed 'discriminating sense of fashion' as he oft liked to call it. "What, those ratty things?"
Ratty? I didn't see any rodents around here...unless you counted the human variety. Those kinds of rodents came in pairs.
Omi looked at me in what I'm sure he perceived to be an academic manner. "Those ecological wastelands look like they're supporting several bacterial colonies."
I rolled my eyes. The big biology man just had to spew around his stupid science talk. "I don't give five craps what they support as long as I'm included."
"Would you just look at these for God's sake!" Yohji waved around his boots. "Real croc leather, true story! You wear these and I'm telling you, you'll be the dude of the dinner."
"I'll be the suckass of supper," I snapped. "Animal rights activists will cudgel me in the head."
"Well I think those boots will go spiffy with these." Omi displayed a pair of knee-length, tight jean shorts. "I bought these last Hot Pants Day but they were way too big. You can wear them now."
My eyes felt like hula hoops poking out of my face. The kid wanted me to wear boots and shorts together in public? This bit of apparel advice coming from the guy who bought shorts for Hot Pants Day? What did he think I was, a hooker from the 80's?
"Yeah man yeah!" Yohji scrounged around through the stack of frippery he'd brought before pulling out some shiny silver thing. And I'm not talking about his twenty-eight yen Raybanu sunglasses. "You can complete the look with this hot piece of clubbing studliness!" He held up the aforementioned 'hot piece' for my inspection.
It was a crop-top vinyl vest with leopard print pockets and matching zipper.
The image of me wearing their 'outfit' (and I use that term quite loosely) was so gruesome that I nearly developed a cerebral hemorrhage and cataracts. What I did next could only be described as an act of desperation. I was fearful for both my visual and cranial capacities, you must understand. I was weak, irrational, nearly blinded from the horrific imprints of sheer brutality that had victimized my innards.
"Hey that cost me $490 US!!!"
Omi peered out the window. "A dog's barking at it...no wait now a guy just drove over it on his bike! That's really rude."
Yohji's cheap shades nearly blazed off his face. "Now you die Ken!"
"Suck aorta dipshit!"
"You are being mean Ken!" Omi was glowering at me. "We don't have to help you-"
"Then don't!"
"But we are out of the all goodness in our hearts and souls and kidneys and- "
"You owe me a new vest," Yohji interrupted darkly. He scowled.
I smirked, revelling in his misery. "Are you a little, you know, constipated?"
"Now's not the time to be making jokes," Omi admonished, shaking his finger at me. "Sheesh! You only just threw his vest out the window!"
"How many times do I hafta tell you?" I demanded, feeling sulky. No one ever told Yohji that now wasn't the time for jokes. "I don't need your help. I know how to wear some clothes on my own you know."
"Well what're you planning to wear then?" Yohji challenged in a bossy voice.
I grabbed some brown cargo pants and my Argentina soccer jersey from off the floor. "I'm wearing these with my black hoodie."
"You wear that everyday!" Yohji exploded. He looked as ticked as the time he accidentally got his hair tangled in his wire.
"I'm not wearing them now."
"Come on Ken, Aya's probably taking you somewhere nice," Omi piped up. "You gotta get a little bit dressed up."
"What the hell for? It's Aya! He's seen me covered in mud and leaves and blood and lima beans, what's he gonna care for? If I don't give seven craps about how I look in a pile of scraps then why the frig should he? It's none of his damn business."
"You're going on a fucking date!" Yohji practically hollered. "You gotta look hot! What if he wants to bone you after?"
Uh huh, yeah as if that had one fifteenth of a chance of ever happening. The guy was probably terrified I'd bite him again and if not, hell I'd be terrified that he'd bite me.
"Don't you care about impressing Aya?" Omi questioned. "Don't you want to look good for him?"
"Of course not. It's only Aya. Who gives a shit!"
"I thought you liked him," Yohji said with great suspicion. "I thought you've been wanting to date him for a really long time."
"Uh...oh yeah." I tugged at my collar. I forgot about all that tutti-frutti mush I'd hammed it up with. "What I mean is that, you know, I don't wanna start things off...erm you know, like false or something. He's gotta like me for me, not for some wanky image I put on. Besides he sees me all day. He's not gonna be impressed if I wear some new clothes."
"That's a mature attitude," Omi commended, looking vaguely impressed.
Yohji was a tougher, stupider macadamian to crack. "I still think these boots are the permit straight into Sex City, if you get-"
"GET OUT YOU LOUSY CUM STAIN!"
Sometimes you just had to toss subtlety into the Bay of Bengal.
"Well sheesh!"
I heaved handfuls of tacky hipsters and girlish shorts at their retreating figures before slamming the door shut as loud as I could.
Outside I could hear Yohji complaining. "Try to give a guy some help... "
"I think he's just super nervous about this date."
And there was that stupid word again...'date'. I was really coming to loathe the word.along with the likes of Yohji and Omi. Honest to Zeus they were nosy and annoying. Didn't they have something better to do than offer me shitty fashion advice? If anything I should be the one giving them advice. Cowboy boots? Jean shorts? What the fakk was this, Crocodile Dundee in Tokyo?
"Bunch of fruity McTudes," I snarled and flopped down on my bed.
I grabbed the stack of 'An Antibiotical Avenger' comics that were under my pillow and tried to read. My mind kept stewing. What a heap of dense those guys were. That Yohji and Omi didn't make a single suck of sense to me. I had a good ten minutes before Aya was to swing by and 'pick me up' and they wanted me to get ready now? What tomfoolery. Aya lived like half a second away from me! If he sneezed I could hear him and say, "Eww gross me out you bacterial cesspool of microbe filth." It wasn't as if it was gonna take him a long time to come to my place. Who knows? Maybe he would even change his mind and then I wouldn't have to go through this utter retardation.
Unless of course he actually wanted to go out with me...and one had to have noticed that he hadn't exactly put up the fuss of the epoch over this date.
I glanced up from the battle between the Antibiotical Avenger and Count Protoplasm's Minions of Macrophagopia with some concern. But that couldn't be right, could it? Afterall I had bit the guy and put my mouth on his and then ran screaming all the way down past Hitotsumenudo's Two Yen-o-rama boutique. Surely a smart noodle like Aya wouldn't genuinely believe all that dog dung I'd fed him earlier about how I liked him so much...
I looked back down at my comic in deep reflection.
"I'll get revenge on you if it's the last thing I ever do!" Mistress Malaria was telling the Antibiotical Avenger.
Revenge! Of course. What a diabolical scheme. Such cunning could only be hatched from the likes of Aya. This was exactly his style. He only agreed to date me in order to lull me into false complacency and then when I least expected it, he'd extract bitter revenge on me for biting and humiliating him. It was clever all right and so very devious. I knew I'd have to be on my brain for this baby.
"Thank you Miss Malaria," I said and gloated. Aya wasn't gonna be able to pull a swift on over me no matter what!
My clock turned to 6:29.
I vaulted from the bed, shucked off my jeans and T-shirt and scrambled into my cargos, jersey and hoodie. I jammed my feet into my kicks and shoved some cash into my pocket. The doorbell rang as I took a passing look into the mirror. Not seven tenths bad at all.
I opened the door.
Aya stood there dressed all in black and looked like he was in mourning. He didn't stupefy me for half a nanosecond.
"Hey buddy what's up?" I boomed in my most obnoxious voice. Two could play the pastime of trickery, that was for sure. No way no who no what was I gonna make this easy for him. "Boy I sure am glad you agreed to be my DATE for tonight!"
Aya opened his mouth but nothing came out. He shuffled his feet and started digging around in his pockets. He pulled out what looked like a brown, scrunched up fern leaf. "Here," he grunted.
I took the brittle bit of flora, feeling cheated. Apparently I'd overestimated Aya's crafty character but still I kept up my front. "Gee thanks man isn't that a beaut I sure will keep it FOREVER!"
"It smells," Aya mumbled.
"Well then I better leave it at home," I replied, chuckling loudly at my own joke. I took a big whiff at the piece of fernery. A pungent odour arose and clung to my nostrils. The hairs in my nose started to twitch. A massive sneeze erupted from my proboscis, complete with spray.
The fern leaf broke into three pieces.
Alright so lately, as in like the past two hours, I've been pondering and brooding and doing all that poetic Shakespearian shit. My little internal adventures have led me to put forth a series of philosophical enquiries about events relating directly to my life as pertains to the current passage of instances...
How exactly might one go about defining a word such as, oh I don't know, 'date' for example? What exactly does said word entail and encompass? How should one fully articulate the meaning of such a minuscule grouping of letters? It was all so up in the air, reminiscent of many an in-flight foul fowl. Several hours of concentrated mulling really did escort me right into a variety of responses.
One might be wont to describe 'date' as an increment of time to be set according to the earth's gravitational rotations. Another folk of the scholarly set could very well take the approach of 'date' being an oblong, sole-pitted tropical substance from the Familius Figgius. And perhaps one of a more jaded global view may go on to describe 'date' as pertaining to the accidentally arrangement of two mismatched masculine folk who, in the vain hopes of avoiding certain moronic buffoons of both the sexes, decided to undertake said arrangement with which to shun social etiquette and moral boundaries in a grand scheme of deceit, high fibbery and dejection of spirit.
"Don't worry guys don't worry, I found the other boot." Yohji held up a lone, lime-green crocodile cowboy boot, complete with tin spur, stacked heel and pointed toe.
It has been said, by who Nararihyon knows, that the third is the one with the hairy chest. Ever since about twelve minutes ago I've been checking for a smattering pectoral rug. Not so much luck yet but I'm not gonna be holding in any air...might be letting some out though.
"I paid $350 US for these bitches and I'm gonna lend 'em to you for free."
I ground my bicuspids together and scowled as viciously as I could. "I'm not wearing those scales!"
"Hey are you okay Ken?" Omi huffed into my room, his twiggy arms loaded with rags. "Don't tell me you're getting jittery!"
Yohji peered down his nose at me. "Yeah man, you look a little, you know, constipated."
Say what now? What the hell kinda clam chowder is this?! Who looks constipated? I was pissed off, by Buddha's bronchiole, not having some goddamn shitter's cramp! "Holy petunia I'm fine! And I already told you that I don't need your stupid help and I have shoes for Ling Tao's sake!"
Omi and Yohji gave each other eyeballs...as though to communicate cranially that I had pebbles in my potting soil.
"Shoes you say?" Omi made a production of looking at my sneakers that sat in a heap by the door.
Yohji's voice was snooty with the pride of his supposed 'discriminating sense of fashion' as he oft liked to call it. "What, those ratty things?"
Ratty? I didn't see any rodents around here...unless you counted the human variety. Those kinds of rodents came in pairs.
Omi looked at me in what I'm sure he perceived to be an academic manner. "Those ecological wastelands look like they're supporting several bacterial colonies."
I rolled my eyes. The big biology man just had to spew around his stupid science talk. "I don't give five craps what they support as long as I'm included."
"Would you just look at these for God's sake!" Yohji waved around his boots. "Real croc leather, true story! You wear these and I'm telling you, you'll be the dude of the dinner."
"I'll be the suckass of supper," I snapped. "Animal rights activists will cudgel me in the head."
"Well I think those boots will go spiffy with these." Omi displayed a pair of knee-length, tight jean shorts. "I bought these last Hot Pants Day but they were way too big. You can wear them now."
My eyes felt like hula hoops poking out of my face. The kid wanted me to wear boots and shorts together in public? This bit of apparel advice coming from the guy who bought shorts for Hot Pants Day? What did he think I was, a hooker from the 80's?
"Yeah man yeah!" Yohji scrounged around through the stack of frippery he'd brought before pulling out some shiny silver thing. And I'm not talking about his twenty-eight yen Raybanu sunglasses. "You can complete the look with this hot piece of clubbing studliness!" He held up the aforementioned 'hot piece' for my inspection.
It was a crop-top vinyl vest with leopard print pockets and matching zipper.
The image of me wearing their 'outfit' (and I use that term quite loosely) was so gruesome that I nearly developed a cerebral hemorrhage and cataracts. What I did next could only be described as an act of desperation. I was fearful for both my visual and cranial capacities, you must understand. I was weak, irrational, nearly blinded from the horrific imprints of sheer brutality that had victimized my innards.
"Hey that cost me $490 US!!!"
Omi peered out the window. "A dog's barking at it...no wait now a guy just drove over it on his bike! That's really rude."
Yohji's cheap shades nearly blazed off his face. "Now you die Ken!"
"Suck aorta dipshit!"
"You are being mean Ken!" Omi was glowering at me. "We don't have to help you-"
"Then don't!"
"But we are out of the all goodness in our hearts and souls and kidneys and- "
"You owe me a new vest," Yohji interrupted darkly. He scowled.
I smirked, revelling in his misery. "Are you a little, you know, constipated?"
"Now's not the time to be making jokes," Omi admonished, shaking his finger at me. "Sheesh! You only just threw his vest out the window!"
"How many times do I hafta tell you?" I demanded, feeling sulky. No one ever told Yohji that now wasn't the time for jokes. "I don't need your help. I know how to wear some clothes on my own you know."
"Well what're you planning to wear then?" Yohji challenged in a bossy voice.
I grabbed some brown cargo pants and my Argentina soccer jersey from off the floor. "I'm wearing these with my black hoodie."
"You wear that everyday!" Yohji exploded. He looked as ticked as the time he accidentally got his hair tangled in his wire.
"I'm not wearing them now."
"Come on Ken, Aya's probably taking you somewhere nice," Omi piped up. "You gotta get a little bit dressed up."
"What the hell for? It's Aya! He's seen me covered in mud and leaves and blood and lima beans, what's he gonna care for? If I don't give seven craps about how I look in a pile of scraps then why the frig should he? It's none of his damn business."
"You're going on a fucking date!" Yohji practically hollered. "You gotta look hot! What if he wants to bone you after?"
Uh huh, yeah as if that had one fifteenth of a chance of ever happening. The guy was probably terrified I'd bite him again and if not, hell I'd be terrified that he'd bite me.
"Don't you care about impressing Aya?" Omi questioned. "Don't you want to look good for him?"
"Of course not. It's only Aya. Who gives a shit!"
"I thought you liked him," Yohji said with great suspicion. "I thought you've been wanting to date him for a really long time."
"Uh...oh yeah." I tugged at my collar. I forgot about all that tutti-frutti mush I'd hammed it up with. "What I mean is that, you know, I don't wanna start things off...erm you know, like false or something. He's gotta like me for me, not for some wanky image I put on. Besides he sees me all day. He's not gonna be impressed if I wear some new clothes."
"That's a mature attitude," Omi commended, looking vaguely impressed.
Yohji was a tougher, stupider macadamian to crack. "I still think these boots are the permit straight into Sex City, if you get-"
"GET OUT YOU LOUSY CUM STAIN!"
Sometimes you just had to toss subtlety into the Bay of Bengal.
"Well sheesh!"
I heaved handfuls of tacky hipsters and girlish shorts at their retreating figures before slamming the door shut as loud as I could.
Outside I could hear Yohji complaining. "Try to give a guy some help... "
"I think he's just super nervous about this date."
And there was that stupid word again...'date'. I was really coming to loathe the word.along with the likes of Yohji and Omi. Honest to Zeus they were nosy and annoying. Didn't they have something better to do than offer me shitty fashion advice? If anything I should be the one giving them advice. Cowboy boots? Jean shorts? What the fakk was this, Crocodile Dundee in Tokyo?
"Bunch of fruity McTudes," I snarled and flopped down on my bed.
I grabbed the stack of 'An Antibiotical Avenger' comics that were under my pillow and tried to read. My mind kept stewing. What a heap of dense those guys were. That Yohji and Omi didn't make a single suck of sense to me. I had a good ten minutes before Aya was to swing by and 'pick me up' and they wanted me to get ready now? What tomfoolery. Aya lived like half a second away from me! If he sneezed I could hear him and say, "Eww gross me out you bacterial cesspool of microbe filth." It wasn't as if it was gonna take him a long time to come to my place. Who knows? Maybe he would even change his mind and then I wouldn't have to go through this utter retardation.
Unless of course he actually wanted to go out with me...and one had to have noticed that he hadn't exactly put up the fuss of the epoch over this date.
I glanced up from the battle between the Antibiotical Avenger and Count Protoplasm's Minions of Macrophagopia with some concern. But that couldn't be right, could it? Afterall I had bit the guy and put my mouth on his and then ran screaming all the way down past Hitotsumenudo's Two Yen-o-rama boutique. Surely a smart noodle like Aya wouldn't genuinely believe all that dog dung I'd fed him earlier about how I liked him so much...
I looked back down at my comic in deep reflection.
"I'll get revenge on you if it's the last thing I ever do!" Mistress Malaria was telling the Antibiotical Avenger.
Revenge! Of course. What a diabolical scheme. Such cunning could only be hatched from the likes of Aya. This was exactly his style. He only agreed to date me in order to lull me into false complacency and then when I least expected it, he'd extract bitter revenge on me for biting and humiliating him. It was clever all right and so very devious. I knew I'd have to be on my brain for this baby.
"Thank you Miss Malaria," I said and gloated. Aya wasn't gonna be able to pull a swift on over me no matter what!
My clock turned to 6:29.
I vaulted from the bed, shucked off my jeans and T-shirt and scrambled into my cargos, jersey and hoodie. I jammed my feet into my kicks and shoved some cash into my pocket. The doorbell rang as I took a passing look into the mirror. Not seven tenths bad at all.
I opened the door.
Aya stood there dressed all in black and looked like he was in mourning. He didn't stupefy me for half a nanosecond.
"Hey buddy what's up?" I boomed in my most obnoxious voice. Two could play the pastime of trickery, that was for sure. No way no who no what was I gonna make this easy for him. "Boy I sure am glad you agreed to be my DATE for tonight!"
Aya opened his mouth but nothing came out. He shuffled his feet and started digging around in his pockets. He pulled out what looked like a brown, scrunched up fern leaf. "Here," he grunted.
I took the brittle bit of flora, feeling cheated. Apparently I'd overestimated Aya's crafty character but still I kept up my front. "Gee thanks man isn't that a beaut I sure will keep it FOREVER!"
"It smells," Aya mumbled.
"Well then I better leave it at home," I replied, chuckling loudly at my own joke. I took a big whiff at the piece of fernery. A pungent odour arose and clung to my nostrils. The hairs in my nose started to twitch. A massive sneeze erupted from my proboscis, complete with spray.
The fern leaf broke into three pieces.