Seto was displeased. He was quite displeased. He was now missing a small
portion of his roof,
and a large sheet of metal, with an odd language carved into it, was
embedded in a cliff that was
part of his expansive property. All in all, it was not a good beginning to
a day.
So, in true Seto fashion, he began to channel his rage in the only way he knew how. He went to the renowned 'computer room', locked himself in, and began to do some heavy duty programming, bringing a giant-sized mug of that heavy duty coffee with him.
As he sipped his pure caffeine from the giant mug with the words 'el grande' on the side, he pondered. Ponder is a fancy way of saying 'to think'. It implies that, while he was thinking, he was certainly not doing so in a common, stupid way. No, these were high, deep, meaningful thoughts. Thoughts that, if he wrote them down, could be made into a large book, sold at book stores, and be quoted repeatedly in most English classes.
Wow, words sure are misleading, aren't they?
Anyway, while Seto was stewing over some file compression, Mokuba was up to his daily mischievous act of the day. For you see, Mokuba was a little brother, and everyone knows that little brothers must do one incredibly irritating thing to you before the day reaches an end. If not, they'll be given the pink slip. And I don't mean a tutu.
"Mwahahaha," Mokuba fake-laughed, wringing his hands in what he assumed was evil villain fashion. He adjusted the oversized mad scientist get-up he'd dug out of Seto's closet and leered evilly, staring at smoking vials of kool-aid with dry ice mixed in them.
"Soon, I shall have my revenge!" he cackled. "Mad! They said I was mad! But soon, I shall show them! Mwahaha-" His evil laughter was then cut short by a coughing fit as he inhaled some of the kool-aid and dry ice fumes.
"Sir? Is everything okay in there?" Inquired a passing maid.
"Fine! Everything's fine! Go forth and spread my words of terror!"
"And which would that be, sir?"
"I want macaroni and cheese for lunch! And make it the Velveeta kind. I hate Kraft."
"Right, sir."
"And hot dogs! Make sure you cut them into little pieces and mix them in! Now be gone, minion! Follow my plans, and I won't have you beheaded!"
"As you wish, sir."
The maid jotted down the food order on her notepad, and strolled casually down the hall, carefully ignoring the bouts of coughing and maniacal laughter echoing from Mokuba's room. The staff at the Kaiba mansion had long since gotten used to the little oddities of their young employers. It was all okay, as long as they steered clear of them when they were plotting invasions.
Mokuba turned his attention back to his mad scientist kit. His plans were perfect. They would no doubt succeed. This was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most ingenious plan he had ever come up with. Lifting a smoking vial of green kool-aid, he let forth a maniacal cackle like that of an asthmatic duck.
"Yes!" he cried, "It is time for Operation: Dye Seto's Hair Pink!"
His evil plan announced, he began to pry the ventilation shaft cover off, tucking a different vial of bright pink solution into his belt. "This'll make him sorry he got me the chemistry set instead of that bicycle I wanted."
Meanwhile, in the shadowy depths of the student lounge, the student council president was stewing over his thoughts. He was screwed. He was oh, so utterly screwed. He had promised Exodia cards, and by all that is sugared, he would have to deliver those Exodia cards. The problem was that there were none. No Exodia cards to speak of. In a wild frenzy of self- preservational instinct, he had stormed every card store in the area, including the one belonging to an old man with oddly triangular hair, and none of them had them.
"I am doomed." He announced to the cup of vodka in front of him, cleverly disguised as sprite. When the vodka made no attempt to answer him, he slumped into the overstuffed paisley chair and muttered to himself.
Right on cue, up walked the treasurer, flipping her hair behind her in an overly dramatic way as she approached the president.
"You called for me, sir?" she asked, lowering her voice to a stage whisper, and looking around to see if there were any students spying on this conversation. Her eyes narrowed at a particular boy, who was buying potato chips from the snack machine. At the sight of her stony glare, he gulped and fled to the safety of the library. Satisfied, the treasurer fixed her gaze back on the president.
He gave a funny high-pitched giggle. "You may be wondering why I've called you here today," he started, then caught sight of her outfit. "What the hell are you *wearing*, Molly?" he cried out in dismay.
She plucked at the shiny black pleather trench coat she wore, adjusted her oversized sunglasses. "Do you like it? I bought it at Hot Topic yesterday. I think it sets off my hair."
"Your hair is blue, Molly."
"Yes, don't you like it? She stared at him ingenuously.
"I will choose to ignore that comment. Now, I have called you here for important business reasons-"
"Right. I brought the whipped cream, the maraschino cherries, and a whole bottle of rose-scented bath oil. All you have to do is get everyone out of the pool, and-"
"What in the name of cake are you talking about, woman?" he screeched, staring at her in utter horror.
"Oh. Oh, oops. I mixed you up with my science teacher, sorry."
His mind scarred for life, the president continued. "I held this highly random and secret meeting to let you in on a crucial problem. A problem that may very well topple student government for at least two years."
He was interrupted by a small boy in a waiter's outfit walking by, a towel slung over his shoulder quite professionally. "Chips and soda for the EXTRA SECRET MEETING THAT NO ONE MUST OVERHEAR, sir?"
"Yes, thank you." The president said distractedly, taking a container of Pringles. "Now, about the meeting. Judging by the secrecy and the incredibly brilliant location, I am sure you know by now that this is no average meeting."
A few girls in matching pink outfits strolled by the table, chattering loudly.
"Like, I hear there's this secret meeting going on over there."
"Omigod, that's like, totally cool."
Students from all around the lounge began to gravitate towards the small group, jabbering away.
"Hey, maybe they're talking about spy stuff, for the student government."
"Anthrax! The student government is putting Anthrax in the lockers! All must beware!"
"Shut up, Tristan."
"Hey, I know! Maybe they did something really stupid, like forget to buy prizes for the dance, and are just now trying to go out and get some!"
"Nah, that's way too obvious."
"EXCUSE ME!" roared the president, twitching wildly, "We are trying to have a SECRET MEETING over here!"
"Geez, don't have a domestic bovine, dude." Muttered one of the students, strolling off towards the soda machines. There was a murmur of general assent from the rest of the dissipating crowd.
The president sank into his overstuffed chair, sighing in exasperation. "Right," he said, running hand through his hair, "I have called you here today to discuss an incredibly urgent matter that must be dealt with immediately."
"Oh, yes," replied Molly, "I thought the school cafeteria food was terrible too."
"Well, yes, but that's *not* the issue I was discussing today. The thing I want to tell you is-"
Dramatic music began to play softly in the background as the president began to explain.
"Yes, sir?" Molly asked, in awe of his incredible abilities. The music began to play louder, increasing in tempo as he tried to put his reply in the right words.
"Well." he muttered, finding it hard to think with all the music playing. "Well, you see-" The music reached a crescendo, it's speed at breakneck pace.
"YES?," roared Molly, trying to make herself heard over the music.
"THIS MAY TAKE A WHILE!" screamed the president, fumbling for the off switch on his boombox.
Elsewhere in the wild universe of Yu-Gi-Oh, a lion was busy chasing a young gazelle through the wilds of Africa. An enormous boulder fell from the sky, crushing the lion instantly, and proving that, yes, there was random Disney justice in the world. Written on the rock in Egyptian hieroglyphics were the words: 'Evil scheme in motion in Japan. Bring your own beer. Love, Yami Bakura.'
"You are such an idiot," muttered Ryou accusingly.
"Shut up and drive the plane, hikari."
They flew off, leaving the gazelle to think upon it's fate, and perhaps to realize it's own impending mortality and the fragility of life. But no, it was just a gazelle.
"I am mighty," chanted Yami to himself, eyes glazing over in a futile attempt to deny reality. "I am the pharaoh, I am the king of games, I am the almighty power over all of Egypt-"
"You're in a fabric store," interrupted Tea. "Get over it."
Yami slumped to the ground. "I can not *believe* I am in a fabric store." He muttered.
"Hey!" snapped Tea. "You could just let Yugi have the body for this part, you know! You don't have to be here."
"And let him pick out our costume?" asked Yami in disgust. "No thank you. He'd probably make us be a bunny rabbit or.something disgustingly cute like that."
Inside his soul room, Yugi shook his fist at Yami. "Curse you! Curse you and your vendetta against all things cute!" That said, he continued to have high tea with his teddy bear.
"Right," mumbled Yami.
Suddenly, Joey leapt out from behind a stand displaying multi-colored linens, his entire body wrapped in some kind of black cloth. "Ha! I have learned the ways of the ninja! I am invincible!"
"Looks more like you learned the ways of the extremely dirty mummy," Tea commented.
"You insult my honor, woman! For that, you must die!"
"No I won't!" yelled Tea, striking a pose, "For I have also learned the ways of the ninja!"
"Gasp! Another ninja!" cried Joey in mock horror.
Yami shook his head in exasperation. "I am surrounded by idiots."
"Well excuse me for living, I'm sure." cried Tea, giving Yami an Almighty Glare of Death, unsurpassed even by Seto's.
"Let's look at the fabric." Yami said, fearing the glare.
"I like this one!"
"It's pink, Tea."
"Hey, pink's the new pink."
"What was wrong with the old pink?" asked Yami curiously.
"It was too pink!" Tea exclaimed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Of course," Yami replied, lost in the vagaries of the fashion world. "Too pink."
"It's better not to think about it." suggested Joey. "Women know these things. Men do not. Just smile and nod, and all will be well."
There are several invariable rules in the sport of shopping. Men must always carry the bags, which all must come from different stores and have random objects protruding from them. There must be at least one changing room fiasco. And someone must always lose some small object of value. In this case, it was the latter.
"Where's my lucky bottle cap?" cried Yami in despair.
Tea and Joey gave him odd looks.
"You have a lucky bottle cap?" snickered Joey.
"Wanna make something of it?" Yami asked, eyes glowing threateningly.
Joey did an amazing thing. He shut up.
"Right," said Yami, satisfied. "We are not going anywhere until I find that bottle cap. It is my sole friend and my ultimate source of power. You think I won the match with Pegasus using the power of friendship, the heart of the cards, and pure skill? No, it was the bottle cap! Chicks dig me when I have the bottle cap! Without the bottle cap, I am a pathetic shell of a man!"
There was a long silence after Yami's little speech.
"I mean I kept it because I liked the pattern on the top." He said sheepishly.
"That's bottle cap abuse!" shouted a random passerby.
"You disgust me, dude!" yelled the cashier.
"Shut up!" roared Yami. "What do any of you know about the relationship between a man and his bottle cap!"
"All of you shut up!" yelled Tea.
The store quieted instantly.
"Okay," she said, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "FIRST, we are going to find fabric for our costumes. THEN we can find Yami's bottle cap."
"Then can we have lunch?" asked Joey.
"Oh, alright. Then lunch. But only after we get the fabric-"
"And the bottle cap?"
"Well, yes, the bottle cap too."
"Can we have dessert with lunch?"
"Okay, FINE! Costumes, bottle cap, lunch, and then dessert. Anything else?"
"I'd quite like a pony." Yami said quietly.
Tea turned and fixed him with a glare.
"But I'll settle for costumes." He said quickly.
With that, the trio went off to do their sacred duty of collecting material for costumes that they had not yet designed.
And up in the heavens, it was Happy Hour.
Fate giggled drunkenly as she looked down at the unfolding comedy. "Bottle caps." She hiccupped, then took another enormous swig of her tequila, offering the bottle to Ares, who belched loudly and accepted it.
"Oh no," muttered Ra. "Ares is getting drunk. We all know what happens when Ares gets drunk."
"Somebody get Athena!" cried Isis, wringing her hands.
"She's sitting in the corner, her helmet shading her face."
"Crap. Where's the goddess of peace?"
"It's her period."
"Shit."
"Oh god, we're in trouble now."
Elsewhere, on earth, in the Wheeler residence, Serenity paused in the middle of what she was doing.
"Did you hear that?" asked Serenity, staring off into nowhere.
"Hear what?"
"Dramatic music."
"Don't worry. It goes away after a while."
"Alright. No where were we? Ah yes. Darling, let us shag."
'Let's," agreed Tristan, and they both began to knit shag carpets, while eating large bowls of maraschino cherries and whipped cream.
So, in true Seto fashion, he began to channel his rage in the only way he knew how. He went to the renowned 'computer room', locked himself in, and began to do some heavy duty programming, bringing a giant-sized mug of that heavy duty coffee with him.
As he sipped his pure caffeine from the giant mug with the words 'el grande' on the side, he pondered. Ponder is a fancy way of saying 'to think'. It implies that, while he was thinking, he was certainly not doing so in a common, stupid way. No, these were high, deep, meaningful thoughts. Thoughts that, if he wrote them down, could be made into a large book, sold at book stores, and be quoted repeatedly in most English classes.
Wow, words sure are misleading, aren't they?
Anyway, while Seto was stewing over some file compression, Mokuba was up to his daily mischievous act of the day. For you see, Mokuba was a little brother, and everyone knows that little brothers must do one incredibly irritating thing to you before the day reaches an end. If not, they'll be given the pink slip. And I don't mean a tutu.
"Mwahahaha," Mokuba fake-laughed, wringing his hands in what he assumed was evil villain fashion. He adjusted the oversized mad scientist get-up he'd dug out of Seto's closet and leered evilly, staring at smoking vials of kool-aid with dry ice mixed in them.
"Soon, I shall have my revenge!" he cackled. "Mad! They said I was mad! But soon, I shall show them! Mwahaha-" His evil laughter was then cut short by a coughing fit as he inhaled some of the kool-aid and dry ice fumes.
"Sir? Is everything okay in there?" Inquired a passing maid.
"Fine! Everything's fine! Go forth and spread my words of terror!"
"And which would that be, sir?"
"I want macaroni and cheese for lunch! And make it the Velveeta kind. I hate Kraft."
"Right, sir."
"And hot dogs! Make sure you cut them into little pieces and mix them in! Now be gone, minion! Follow my plans, and I won't have you beheaded!"
"As you wish, sir."
The maid jotted down the food order on her notepad, and strolled casually down the hall, carefully ignoring the bouts of coughing and maniacal laughter echoing from Mokuba's room. The staff at the Kaiba mansion had long since gotten used to the little oddities of their young employers. It was all okay, as long as they steered clear of them when they were plotting invasions.
Mokuba turned his attention back to his mad scientist kit. His plans were perfect. They would no doubt succeed. This was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most ingenious plan he had ever come up with. Lifting a smoking vial of green kool-aid, he let forth a maniacal cackle like that of an asthmatic duck.
"Yes!" he cried, "It is time for Operation: Dye Seto's Hair Pink!"
His evil plan announced, he began to pry the ventilation shaft cover off, tucking a different vial of bright pink solution into his belt. "This'll make him sorry he got me the chemistry set instead of that bicycle I wanted."
Meanwhile, in the shadowy depths of the student lounge, the student council president was stewing over his thoughts. He was screwed. He was oh, so utterly screwed. He had promised Exodia cards, and by all that is sugared, he would have to deliver those Exodia cards. The problem was that there were none. No Exodia cards to speak of. In a wild frenzy of self- preservational instinct, he had stormed every card store in the area, including the one belonging to an old man with oddly triangular hair, and none of them had them.
"I am doomed." He announced to the cup of vodka in front of him, cleverly disguised as sprite. When the vodka made no attempt to answer him, he slumped into the overstuffed paisley chair and muttered to himself.
Right on cue, up walked the treasurer, flipping her hair behind her in an overly dramatic way as she approached the president.
"You called for me, sir?" she asked, lowering her voice to a stage whisper, and looking around to see if there were any students spying on this conversation. Her eyes narrowed at a particular boy, who was buying potato chips from the snack machine. At the sight of her stony glare, he gulped and fled to the safety of the library. Satisfied, the treasurer fixed her gaze back on the president.
He gave a funny high-pitched giggle. "You may be wondering why I've called you here today," he started, then caught sight of her outfit. "What the hell are you *wearing*, Molly?" he cried out in dismay.
She plucked at the shiny black pleather trench coat she wore, adjusted her oversized sunglasses. "Do you like it? I bought it at Hot Topic yesterday. I think it sets off my hair."
"Your hair is blue, Molly."
"Yes, don't you like it? She stared at him ingenuously.
"I will choose to ignore that comment. Now, I have called you here for important business reasons-"
"Right. I brought the whipped cream, the maraschino cherries, and a whole bottle of rose-scented bath oil. All you have to do is get everyone out of the pool, and-"
"What in the name of cake are you talking about, woman?" he screeched, staring at her in utter horror.
"Oh. Oh, oops. I mixed you up with my science teacher, sorry."
His mind scarred for life, the president continued. "I held this highly random and secret meeting to let you in on a crucial problem. A problem that may very well topple student government for at least two years."
He was interrupted by a small boy in a waiter's outfit walking by, a towel slung over his shoulder quite professionally. "Chips and soda for the EXTRA SECRET MEETING THAT NO ONE MUST OVERHEAR, sir?"
"Yes, thank you." The president said distractedly, taking a container of Pringles. "Now, about the meeting. Judging by the secrecy and the incredibly brilliant location, I am sure you know by now that this is no average meeting."
A few girls in matching pink outfits strolled by the table, chattering loudly.
"Like, I hear there's this secret meeting going on over there."
"Omigod, that's like, totally cool."
Students from all around the lounge began to gravitate towards the small group, jabbering away.
"Hey, maybe they're talking about spy stuff, for the student government."
"Anthrax! The student government is putting Anthrax in the lockers! All must beware!"
"Shut up, Tristan."
"Hey, I know! Maybe they did something really stupid, like forget to buy prizes for the dance, and are just now trying to go out and get some!"
"Nah, that's way too obvious."
"EXCUSE ME!" roared the president, twitching wildly, "We are trying to have a SECRET MEETING over here!"
"Geez, don't have a domestic bovine, dude." Muttered one of the students, strolling off towards the soda machines. There was a murmur of general assent from the rest of the dissipating crowd.
The president sank into his overstuffed chair, sighing in exasperation. "Right," he said, running hand through his hair, "I have called you here today to discuss an incredibly urgent matter that must be dealt with immediately."
"Oh, yes," replied Molly, "I thought the school cafeteria food was terrible too."
"Well, yes, but that's *not* the issue I was discussing today. The thing I want to tell you is-"
Dramatic music began to play softly in the background as the president began to explain.
"Yes, sir?" Molly asked, in awe of his incredible abilities. The music began to play louder, increasing in tempo as he tried to put his reply in the right words.
"Well." he muttered, finding it hard to think with all the music playing. "Well, you see-" The music reached a crescendo, it's speed at breakneck pace.
"YES?," roared Molly, trying to make herself heard over the music.
"THIS MAY TAKE A WHILE!" screamed the president, fumbling for the off switch on his boombox.
Elsewhere in the wild universe of Yu-Gi-Oh, a lion was busy chasing a young gazelle through the wilds of Africa. An enormous boulder fell from the sky, crushing the lion instantly, and proving that, yes, there was random Disney justice in the world. Written on the rock in Egyptian hieroglyphics were the words: 'Evil scheme in motion in Japan. Bring your own beer. Love, Yami Bakura.'
"You are such an idiot," muttered Ryou accusingly.
"Shut up and drive the plane, hikari."
They flew off, leaving the gazelle to think upon it's fate, and perhaps to realize it's own impending mortality and the fragility of life. But no, it was just a gazelle.
"I am mighty," chanted Yami to himself, eyes glazing over in a futile attempt to deny reality. "I am the pharaoh, I am the king of games, I am the almighty power over all of Egypt-"
"You're in a fabric store," interrupted Tea. "Get over it."
Yami slumped to the ground. "I can not *believe* I am in a fabric store." He muttered.
"Hey!" snapped Tea. "You could just let Yugi have the body for this part, you know! You don't have to be here."
"And let him pick out our costume?" asked Yami in disgust. "No thank you. He'd probably make us be a bunny rabbit or.something disgustingly cute like that."
Inside his soul room, Yugi shook his fist at Yami. "Curse you! Curse you and your vendetta against all things cute!" That said, he continued to have high tea with his teddy bear.
"Right," mumbled Yami.
Suddenly, Joey leapt out from behind a stand displaying multi-colored linens, his entire body wrapped in some kind of black cloth. "Ha! I have learned the ways of the ninja! I am invincible!"
"Looks more like you learned the ways of the extremely dirty mummy," Tea commented.
"You insult my honor, woman! For that, you must die!"
"No I won't!" yelled Tea, striking a pose, "For I have also learned the ways of the ninja!"
"Gasp! Another ninja!" cried Joey in mock horror.
Yami shook his head in exasperation. "I am surrounded by idiots."
"Well excuse me for living, I'm sure." cried Tea, giving Yami an Almighty Glare of Death, unsurpassed even by Seto's.
"Let's look at the fabric." Yami said, fearing the glare.
"I like this one!"
"It's pink, Tea."
"Hey, pink's the new pink."
"What was wrong with the old pink?" asked Yami curiously.
"It was too pink!" Tea exclaimed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Of course," Yami replied, lost in the vagaries of the fashion world. "Too pink."
"It's better not to think about it." suggested Joey. "Women know these things. Men do not. Just smile and nod, and all will be well."
There are several invariable rules in the sport of shopping. Men must always carry the bags, which all must come from different stores and have random objects protruding from them. There must be at least one changing room fiasco. And someone must always lose some small object of value. In this case, it was the latter.
"Where's my lucky bottle cap?" cried Yami in despair.
Tea and Joey gave him odd looks.
"You have a lucky bottle cap?" snickered Joey.
"Wanna make something of it?" Yami asked, eyes glowing threateningly.
Joey did an amazing thing. He shut up.
"Right," said Yami, satisfied. "We are not going anywhere until I find that bottle cap. It is my sole friend and my ultimate source of power. You think I won the match with Pegasus using the power of friendship, the heart of the cards, and pure skill? No, it was the bottle cap! Chicks dig me when I have the bottle cap! Without the bottle cap, I am a pathetic shell of a man!"
There was a long silence after Yami's little speech.
"I mean I kept it because I liked the pattern on the top." He said sheepishly.
"That's bottle cap abuse!" shouted a random passerby.
"You disgust me, dude!" yelled the cashier.
"Shut up!" roared Yami. "What do any of you know about the relationship between a man and his bottle cap!"
"All of you shut up!" yelled Tea.
The store quieted instantly.
"Okay," she said, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "FIRST, we are going to find fabric for our costumes. THEN we can find Yami's bottle cap."
"Then can we have lunch?" asked Joey.
"Oh, alright. Then lunch. But only after we get the fabric-"
"And the bottle cap?"
"Well, yes, the bottle cap too."
"Can we have dessert with lunch?"
"Okay, FINE! Costumes, bottle cap, lunch, and then dessert. Anything else?"
"I'd quite like a pony." Yami said quietly.
Tea turned and fixed him with a glare.
"But I'll settle for costumes." He said quickly.
With that, the trio went off to do their sacred duty of collecting material for costumes that they had not yet designed.
And up in the heavens, it was Happy Hour.
Fate giggled drunkenly as she looked down at the unfolding comedy. "Bottle caps." She hiccupped, then took another enormous swig of her tequila, offering the bottle to Ares, who belched loudly and accepted it.
"Oh no," muttered Ra. "Ares is getting drunk. We all know what happens when Ares gets drunk."
"Somebody get Athena!" cried Isis, wringing her hands.
"She's sitting in the corner, her helmet shading her face."
"Crap. Where's the goddess of peace?"
"It's her period."
"Shit."
"Oh god, we're in trouble now."
Elsewhere, on earth, in the Wheeler residence, Serenity paused in the middle of what she was doing.
"Did you hear that?" asked Serenity, staring off into nowhere.
"Hear what?"
"Dramatic music."
"Don't worry. It goes away after a while."
"Alright. No where were we? Ah yes. Darling, let us shag."
'Let's," agreed Tristan, and they both began to knit shag carpets, while eating large bowls of maraschino cherries and whipped cream.