Title: Tala's newfound burdens
Rated: PG-13
Warning: Language, Freaky Incidents, Tap-dancing, Broadway Show tunes
Summary: See Prologue
Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade, The My Little Pony Corporation, or a Wizard of Oz DVD.
Chapter III-
The Joys of Selling Tala
Kai stared at the people in the Coffee House with immense hatred.
Sipping the warm-hopefully-not-urine liquid inside the plastic cup, he proceeded to find more people to stare hatefully at as the last batch of elderly people got scared and left. Turning the fifth page of the Russian Playboy magazine, Voltaire's grandson seemed completely oblivious to the 15 year old girl who had just taken a seat infront of him. The newcomer was waif, blonde, and nibbling on a piece of donut as she eyed the hateful boy silently. Fifteen minutes passed. Kai finally noticed the intruder and put down the XXX reading material, making sure he secured his 'bad-ass' scowl into place.
"What are you looking at, little girl?" He asked curtly, throwing his plastic cup on the floor in evident defiance to the 'No Littering' sign clearly posted on the window. Missing an episode of the O.C obviously made little improvement on his friendliness. The girl was startled but managed to redeem herself as she scowled also, revealing surprisingly coleslaw-free teeth.
"Tch. Not much."
Kai got mad.
And this time, mad-mad. Not the kind of mad that he usually gets in, but REALLY mad. The kind of mad that everyone gets in everyday in the United States, the blatant obscenity that triggers apoplexy like eating another one of Ian's home-cooked Kenny burgers while watching the Martha Stewart baking show.
"Do you have any idea who you're talking to, dumb fuck?" Kai growled, using the mental image of Voltaire stealing his My Little Pony collection as a backup to enrage himself. Two adults conversing from behind them looked up, astonished that a boy wearing a Ralph Lauren shirt would use the atrocious language usually intended for George Bush. The girl tightened, grew red and shrugged her shoulders casually. Usually, Kai would just ignore a rude comment and stuff a hydrogen bomb into a insulter's house two days later, but this girl was different from the others. She was not afraid of him. She did not have pimples on her face. And she didn't run away screaming bloody murder when he glared at her using his trademark.
Kai glared at the person staring back at him with applied immense hatred. Because he was so adamant in his belief that no girl would EVER dare insult the superior likes of him, he made up a fast conclusion. The usual conclusion he makes to anything bad that happens to him, excluding the time he accidently hugged Tyson (he was high on sugar plums).
"Don't try to fool me, Tala. I know you're under that yellow wig." The boy stiffened a satisfied grin, and stood up. The girl looked bewildered and confused at the same time, just like Paul Martin when asked if he knew how to run the government. Kai started to laugh. A whole, hearty laugh that possessed all seven counts of malice.
"What the hell are you talking about you blue-haired freak?" The blonde demanded, gripping the half-eaten chocolate donut dangerously. Kai's laugh did not abate, even when he jumped up to the table and threw out his hands, even when he aimed for the girl's head, even when he let out a repulsive flatulent sound with deadly consequences. The girl gave a startled shriek, trying to jerk her head away. Grabbing the blonde hair, Kai started to pull with all his might, desperate to take off the 'wig'.
"Let go you asshole! What t--"
"Damn... how much glue did you put on your head, woman!" Kai strained, feeling high and mighty for calling 'Tala' a woman as he used his feet to kick her head back. The girl still screamed and she too stood up and tried to aim for Kai's more sensitive parts but failed miserably. Unfortunately for her Kai knew her motive and stepped off the table, taking the mane of hair with him as he did so.
Two seconds later...
Newly acquainted with several red slap marks on his face, Kai sighed a sigh of pure satisfaction as he walked from the Coffee House, cleverly ducking the flying broom that the manager threw from behind him.
---
Emily,demoralized from her failed attempts to cook an edible dinner, walked down the crooked stairs and decided to explore the remainder of the Abbey, while also possessing hope that she could steal Oliver's food creations and pose it as her own. A noise from the basement caught her curiosity and she pushed open a small black door only to find another small black door inside.
Annoyed, she engaed PSM mode and kicked the two remaining doors down.
Looking around, she spotted someone in a small alcove from behind the two doors.
Could it be?
It was…
Mr. Dickenson! insert dramatic Scooby Doo theme here
"Hey, its the gay dude!" Emily smiled. Mr. Dickenson glared at her, hurt bewilderment spelled on his wrinkled red face.
"H-h... how did you KNOW!" He cried and tore from her presence, bawling.
Emily sighed, chatising herself for coming on too friendly. She proceeded to open another small black door but decided against it in fear of discovering other stalkers/homo/drunks. So she made her way into the small entwined staircase towards her right and was presented with a rather alarming picture.
"No Robert! Not you too!"
There... in the corner of the small dark room... was Robert... playing with a ...
My Little Pony.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO! DON'T LOOK! ARRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The German screamed, using a pair of Magic Hair Accessories to conceal his face.
Um... No.
"You're watching Lord of the Rings?" Emily asked, staring at Robert, who was seated in a corner of the what looked like a theatre room. She took a seat beside him, astonished that a pink-bathrobe-wearing German would be engrossed in something other than a catalogue of pink German bathrobes.
"Yeah! This movie totally rocks! Look at that hunky long-haired blonde girl! Isn't she just adorable with her bow and arrow!" Robert squealed, relieving Emily of her speculation that he was gender-confused.
"Erm... sure."
"Shut up shut up! She's starting to talk!"
Emily decided not to rebuke him that the 'hunky long-haired blond girl' was actually a male elf played by a male actor named Orlando Bloom and sat back to hog the popcorn, waiting to bask in the scene of hobbits jumping on a bed.
-------
The hobo was getting restless. The Oprah Winfrey show was still on. Tala was counting the cracks on the ceiling inside this maggot infested room while having regrets when he previously stated that there was nothing more horrible and gay than being trapped in a ten inch closet withVoltaire and a high-on-KFC Bryan.
The television stereo boomed with the whiny complaints of desperate housewives.
'So then what happened?'
'Well, Oprah, after I was on your show, I discovered something...'
'Go on...'
'...that there IS no perfect bedroom curtain colour. My heart belonged to purple all along!'
'Astonishing improvement...we'll be right back after these messages.'
The hobo sniffled, blowing his nose with much force. Tala mentally rolled his eyes. Oh Boo-hoo. So some stay-at-home mom found something even more girly than last week's newspaper. Yeah, thats something worth crying about. How would she like it if she was held hostage by a deodarant-deprived mould of flesh bickering on and on about how superior Oprah is opposed to all the presidents in the world combined? Or how about being reduced to reading the Sears Winter catalogue for entertainment? Or what ab--
"Alright little boy, dance."
The rough, slurring voice of the hobo brought Tala back from his critical yet so very true thoughts. Dance? Did he hear this guy correctly? The man grunted his overload stomach to make his point.
"Dance fer me!"
Tala shuddered.
"And not just any type of dancing, TAP-dancing!"
More shuddering.
".. To Britney Spears music!"
Shudder extravaganza.
So Tala was forced to be chained to a light post on the streets of eastern Moscow dancing tap like he never danced before, incorrectly to Britney Spears music. The hobo behind him drew a big 'FOR SALE' sign using a marker and cardboard and taped it onto Tala's front. Until the man drew up the price tag, that was when Tala really exploded.
"Alright, you unpleasantsurlyshittylittlefuckeduppieceofworthlessshit! That's IT! How the hellcould I be worth FIFTY CENTS!" He screamed, wanting to kill the guy and then bring him back to life only to kill him once again.
"Why youse ungrateful ingrate! Youse should consider this a privilage to be 'ere! Now dance, dammit, so someone can buy you!" The hobo exclaimed, threatening to put a Celin Dion CD in the setereo if he chose to do otherwise. Tala turned red and aimed to punch the guy in the nose, but the hobo, being vertically challenged and somewhat obese, ducked and turned 'Hit Me Baby One More Time' up four volumes. Anger-stricken and wishing Boris had chained him up and fed him to snakes, Tala proceeded to kick the stereo out of function if he had not been stopped by a masculine voice behind him.
"Egads! He is wearing zee tights!"
Tala turned around to come face-to-chest with a rather tall man, wearing a black snakeskin overcoat.
"What are you talking about? That was like two years ago! I've now switched to slightly baggy tights!" The red head retorted angrily. The snakeskin clad man did not draw his eyes back.
"Oh my poor, poor little boy... so young and already lost; I will buy him, my good man, and save this poor boy from zee tight-wearing horror!" The man proclaimed as if he were doing something righteous, handing a two ruble piece to the red-faced hobo. Tala groaned at his buyer's stupidity and was dragged away from the chains and retarded-ness.
A long black limo of some sort greeted his turquoise eyes as the man lead him inside, closing the door behind him. The interior of the car was even more palatial than the outside, with a built-in DVD player, snake bar (wonder what those are for), and even feet-warmers. Tala finally managed to pull the price tag off of his clothes and rip it up. The man who sat behind him unexpectedly embraced the startled boy in a warm bear hug before kissing him on both cheeks.Tala was too disgusted to say something insulting.
"You know why I've really bought you, don't you, boy?" The man said, losing his slight French accent. Tala blinked subconsciously.
"You are a fine-looking specimen...if not too girly by appearance…"
There was that foreboding shuddering feeling again.
"... perfect... to marry my daughter."
-----
The inside of the fake Frenchman's house was shiny.
And big.
And full of mirrors.
Tala sighed.
Crimes go so undetected in the Russian Federation its almost pathetic. He looked at the robust hand gripping his white and orange shirt. Ow. He glared disapprovingly at his capturer. Didn't your mother ever teach you something called 'common politeness-to-the-under-aged-cyborg'?
"Anasthasia! I have someone for you!"
Oh whoopidi doo.
Oh shit.
Oh crap.
Oh crappyshit.
Tala tried one last time to jerk himself free. But stopped his futile efforts as he thought of the disastrous outcome. Damn. Everyone has a copy of Celine Dion's greatest hits album these days...
A figure, most likely a girl, descended from the top of the stairs, much like the Disney movie suggested. The female, dressed in a Vera Wang wedding dress (oh god...) and shimmering diamond-encrusted high heels, waved excitedly at her snakeskin-clad father. Her hair,pilled like a gravity-defying beehive on her head shone in contrast to the brightness of the living room as she gracefully tumbled/rolled down the marble stairs.
Owch.
As Tala watched, his future woman's hair literally fell off of her head, and flew towards his feet. Ew. A wig. Ewies! And made entirely from animal products. Oh the evilness of human nature! The girl grinned brightly, and blushed as she stumbled towards the two coughing/hacking males, reaching and grabbing her hair before putting it delicately over a bandage-wrapped head that most probably was bald. The girl's father tugged a speechless-and-in-shock Tala towards him, until his moustached mouth was almost touching the boy's ear.
"You'll have to excuse that display of unpleasantness. Some fucked up bastard ripped off my poor innocent Smackom Bottoms' hair in a coffee shop just the other day. Zee jackass!"
Tala grimaced.
Not only at the mental image of a person's hair getting ripped straight from the root, but also at the'embarrassing-to-the-point-of-sinking-ones-head-into-head-chopper-5000' nickname a girls dad could possibly conjure up. Anasthasia then drew out her hand towards the unwilling redhead, as if expecting him to kiss it. When he made no suggestion of an oral contact, the girl got pissed and crossed her arms.
"Daddy, this boy is a snow cone. He can't even show some respect to me!" She stated, her sentences revealing her obvious lack of decent swear words. Anasthasia's father patted her chrome back reassuringly.
"Don't worry, Puffy Pie. I'll have him straightened up." Not letting go of Tala's arm, the man half lead, half dragged Tala into a small room by the bottom of the grand stairs, followed by the quick paces of his credulous daughter. Unlocking the palatial elaborated doors, a cubicle alarmingly similar to Boris' private chambers came into focus. The man pushed Tala into this notorious room, and told him to stay put. The girl smiled a satisfied yet pure evil smile as she threw some sort of yellowish paper at him. Father and daughter then left, locking the door with a reviled click.
Tala picked up the paper. As there were no windows to allow adequate oxygen circulation, he decided to cease his boredom by reading it. The paper was a list. In girly handwriting, where the I's were all dotted with hearts, the information presented to him was read out loud.
Here are the names you are allowed to call me on our honeymoon:
1. Smackom Bottoms
2. Britney Spears
3. Chocolate snowcone
Any indication to the word 'Fatty' will be a cause for severe bitch slapping.
Disturbing. Even for a Russian.
Tala turned around and wished at that direct moment that he was gay and had made it out with Ian (yes, he was very desperate).
Depressed, Tala threw the paper back onto the ground and crawled under the laced covers of his mattress. This was the fifth time he felt this way ever since he met the likes of Voltaire. He was faintly surprised at how tired and careworn he was, and as if under command, closed his eyes firmly as he buried his head onto the Victoria Secret brand pillow.
o.O
Tala walked up to the gates of the abbey, entering it like a good little boy. He climbed up the ebony stairs and opened the door to Voltaire's office. The huge black armchair was faced towards the window, and Tala could see the man's vague reflection on the clear glass.
"State your business." The husky voice said under a mask of phlegmatic-ness. Tala raised his eyebrows casually.
"Namesh Bond. Jamesh Bond."
That information seemed to please Voltaire for he swung around like a child ona 25 cent automatic pony ride and grinned down at his pupil. Tala took a step forward, holding up his parcel and unwrapping it.
"May I present to you... homestyle coffee." Tala said, holding the box high above his head as an angelic chorus sang from the background.
Voltaire continued to smile, but his smile seemed to be empty this time. Swinging his legs idly, he started to turn around on his fun chair, the suspense growing with every second it took for him to actually get off his lazy ass and to walk around the table.
"See here... there's a wee detail I forgot to tell you."
Tala gulped. Huh?
After a series of hacking coughs, he began again.
"...I'm lactose intolerant."
Oh Shittyshitcrap.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
o.O
Tala woke up screaming, immersed in cold sweat. First he was bemused at the darkness of the secluded room, but as the putrid memories came flooding back, he screamed again. After a reasonable amount of minutes of letting his anger/fear/anxiety/insanity out, Tala slumped back onto the bed.
Just a dream.
A terrible, terrible dream.
Glacing around, he realized for the second storyline-irrelevent time that the room didn't have any windows. He turned to his side in defeat and went back to sleep.
O.o
Suddenly Bryan burst in through the wall. Tala woke up, startled (well, duh). Grunting incorrectly, the lavender-haired boy started to pull Tala from the bed after brushing off some gravel that had fallen on his bright lime ghetto suit.
"Yo, wake up, yo." Bryan said, slapping Tala's perplexed face.
"B..Bryan? Wh---stop slapping me, damnit! Where'd you learn that ridiculous American slang?" The cyborg hissed, staring angrily at his closest-ever-to-a-friend's half shadowed face.
"Yo, ne matter, yo. Get yer ass up and we go fer a ride, ma dawg." He continued to drag a sleep bound Tala to the discerned hole when Tala started to resist.
"Bryan? This is so not like you... you hate everything American! Where'd you...!" Tala began but was caught off as the other boy put a hand over his mouth.
"Keep a secret, bud? I ain't no Bryan. I'm..." Bryan whispered in a thin voice. To Tala's horror, Bryan ripped his mask off and revealed another face. The face of the grinning lion from the Wizard of Oz. The lion-dude-guy started to do the moonwalk, and then began to show off his excruciating vocal cords:
"Oh we're off to see the Wizard, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
You'll find he is a whiz of a Wiz! If ever a Wiz! there was.
If ever oh ever a Wiz! there was The Wizard of Oz is one because..."
"NYYYYAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
O.o
Tala woke up, screaming.
Yet another nightmare. All in one night.Getting up and kneeling on the warm mattress,Tala was just about to pray for God to end his forlorn life when he saw something peer out at him from the edge of the bed. As if on cue, the dire lion-head thing began to sing.
"Follow the Yellow Brick Road. Follow the Yellow Brick Road.
Follow, follow, follow, follow,
Follow the Yellow Brick Road.
Follow the Yellow Brick, Follow the Yellow Brick..."
"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!"
Yes, indeed, Tala was going insane.