Her Sweetness: Hi there! I'm writing another chapter of my lovey-dovey fic and I have just one thing to say to all those who giggled and tee-heed at me! Shame on you! This is a SERIOUS, angsty, romance, I'll have you know!
The nerve of some people…
Nah, just kidding, laugh yourselves silly.
—Hot Man, Hot Dog—
Part Two: Blueberry Days
Joey's eyes flew open as he felt the car coming to a screeching halt and, before he knew it, he was being tossed out on his butt, hitting the curb. A bit disoriented, he blinked and rubbed his eye only to see Otogi and Tristan in the front seats of the car and the back door wide open which was where he guessed he had gotten flung out of.
After a bit of confusion, the blonde's eyes narrowed at his friend, "Tristan! What'd you do that for?"
He shrugged and motioned towards Otogi, "I didn't do anything. Ask him."
Joey looked to the other boy in question.
"Ugh! Because you were drooling all in the backseat and this happens to be Corinthian leather! Do you even know how much I paid for this? Huh? Y-You don't; you just don't! So, thanks to you, I have to get it professionally cleaned!" Otogi was obviously beyond ticked as he slammed the door shut and the Mercedes zoomed off, leaving Joey on the street, more or less bewildered.
"… Oh well." He got up off the pavement and turned around, surprised to see his apartment building right in front of him. 'Well, at least they didn't leave me in the ghetto.' He looked around and sighed, 'Wait a minute, I live in the ghetto…!'
Upon realizing that, he hurried on inside before the gangs showed up and started target practice with his hair again. The door opened after he'd found his key in his many pockets and when he turned on the lights in the living room, they didn't go on.
"What…? B-But I paid the electric bill!" He shouted into the air and after a moment of silence, he scratched his head, thoughtfully, "Or… maybe that was the grocery bill… Oh whatever. It doesn't matter; I'll just rough it tonight!"
Seeing as how Joey had failed to pay the electric bill, when he looked in his refrigerator, all his food had spoiled as it had been turned off early in the day. It was rather cold outside as well and he had no heat and to make matters worse, he had bullet holes the size of meatballs going all through his apartment, which was really the size of a shack.
So he sat on his floor/bed and snuggled up into his blanket/rag. After about three or four hours of freezing his butt off in his cold tenement room and his teeth chattering together, his whole body went numb and he couldn't feel anything anymore, for which he was grateful. As he drifted off into a frozen dreamland, he heard the theme song from Hamtaro.
"…" He looked around for his cell phone, grumbling to himself, "Damn, Otogi, I know that was you who changed my ring tone…"
Finally realizing that he was using his cell phone as his pillow, he grabbed it and flipped it open, answering the ringing groggily, "Hello?"
"Hello, is there a Joseph Wheeler that lives here?"
"Uh… yeah." He blinked, "This is me, who's this?"
"It's James. You know, the bartender at The Test Tickle."
Joey nodded slowly and thought for a minute before saying, "Oh, yeah. Um, how'd you get my number?"
"Your pointy-haired friend handed it out all over the bar. He said you were desperate and that you needed to get some and to call if anyone was interested."
"Oh……………… Wait, that's not why you're calling, is it?"
"What? No! You sick, little freak, I'm calling because I needed to ask you something. See, um, it's like three in the morning now and we've got to close, but um, your friend here isn't leaving. So, I wanted to know if you've recovered from being drunk and can I just throw this hotdog away?"
"Ah… Hot Dog's still there? And just what the hell do you mean by throwing Hot Dog away, huh? You can't do that! Is this how The Test Tickle treats its costumers?"
James almost dropped the phone, snickering and tittering quietly. He put the receiver back up to his ear while he restrained his laughter and sighed, 'I guess he's still in pony world. Better not upset a drunken person, though… Especially one with that bad a haircut, there's no telling what he'd do… Hmm.'
"Hey? You still there?" Joey asked, hearing nothing but silence for a while.
"Yeah. Alright, listen kid… I know this thing means a lot to ya, so I won't throw it away. But I sure as hell ain't keeping it here, so I'll just drive it on home… How's that sound?"
"Okay. Do you know Hot Dog's address?"
"… Sure." He lied.
"Great." He smiled cutely and then blinked, whispering into the phone, "Oh, and… if it's not too much trouble, tell Hot Dog that I said hi and to have a good night…"
"… Alrighty, then, I'll be sure to tell 'em."
"Later."
"See ya."
The line went dead and James set the phone back on the cradle. He sighed, looking around the empty club. All the table tops had been cleaned and the chairs were stacked neatly on top. Their janitor had just finished mopping the floors and had left. James was the only one left, or so he had previously believed. He then looked down on the counter and saw a rather dried looking hotdog sitting on a napkin. He was surprised no one had eaten it yet, but called that Joey kid to verify.
He now looked at the wiener and shrugged, "I guess it's just you and me, then."
"…"
"Well, let's go."
James thought about the fact that he had just talked to a hotdog and shrugged it off, picking it up and heading out, locking the club's doors behind him and walking out onto the sidewalk, lined with small planted trees, white flowers sparkling under early morning stars.
After picking up a cardboard box that lay by the wayside and setting it upright by one of the trees, James put the hotdog inside the box and looked around quickly, making sure no one had seen his strange act of kindness.
When he saw that no one was around, he waved timidly and got into his beat up, BMW and drove down the streets, leaving poor Hot Dog to fend for itself.
It was around ten o' clock in the morning, the next day and the sun was shining faithfully all across Domino. In one of the houses on the East Side, Otogi's house, Tristan had stopped by around seven, insisting to be let in because his mom's cat had eaten all his fish and he was hungry. Of course, Otogi let him in but regretted it as, less than an hour later, he had no fish left.
There was a light screen of smoke floating in the house, mainly coming from the kitchen. Tristan opened the all the windows in the house and the neighborhood groaned in aggravation as they knew what terrible act was being committed. Otogi was cooking again.
"Jeez! Otogi, what are you making, liver? It smells like someone died in here!"
"Ugh! For your information, Tristan, I'm making blueberry pancakes. And if you're going to behave like that, you can't have any!"
"… That was supposed to be a threat?"
"You're so evil, Tristan!"
Tristan blinked and went back to reading his magazine, Motor Monthly, in the living room where he was currently stationed. He sat in a cushy, lounge chair by an open window, sucking on the clean air that filtered through. In a second, he heard a shrill, girly scream from the kitchen.
He turned the page, "Did you cut something off again, Otogi?"
"No, my dough is rising!"
'… I could say something perverted, but I won't…' He thought before turning the page again.
"Oh no! The blueberries!"
"Did you drop them?"
"No, they're attacking! Back, back, I say!"
"… I think you're inhaling a little too much smoke in there, buddy. You should probably sit down somewhere."
"Ah ha ha ha! Viva la France!"
"…" He got up and took a step away from his chair, leaving behind the magazine. "Hey, Otogi? Did you hit your head or something? Is it time to go visit the hospital again?"
Before he could set foot into the kitchen, the phone on the small table by the chair began ringing furiously. Tristan looked at the kitchen door strangely as no more noise or strange battle cries echoed from out. He sighed and picked up the receiver, "Otogi's house, Tristan speaking."
"Hey, Tristan!"
"… Joey?"
"Yup!"
"Oh, hi. Heh heh, how're you feeling? Any hangovers to speak of?"
"Uh, not really. I had a hard time sleeping last night, though, because the cops mistook a Girl Scout troop for gang members and then… well, let's just say there was a lot of commotion."
"Awesome. Hey, how'd you know I was here?"
"I called your house first and your mom said you went over to the pansy's house."
"… Oh."
"So, anyway," Joey was rocking his cell phone happily by his ear as he stood out on the sidewalk in front of his apartment. In the daytime it was safe to walk the streets of the ghetto and so he stood unharmed, "I need to ask a favor."
Tristan thought this would be the opportune time to poke fun, "Does this favor have anything to do with hotdogs?"
"Yep."
"…"
"I was wondering if you could give me a ride to Hot Dog's place. I managed to get the address from James, you know the bartender at The Test Tickle, and he let me speak to Hot Dog early this morning."
"… Joey. Have you been drinking since last night?"
"Nope. The only thing I even had was that one Fuzzy Nipple… But then, I'm great with liquor, I never get drunk or anything."
"…"
"Tristan? You there?"
"Let me get this straight. Last night, at the club, you weren't drunk?"
"No. Why?"
"… I-I don't believe you! You were drunk, you had to be! You should've seen yourself, you were hitting on a piece of meat!"
Joey nodded, "Hot Dog, right?"
"Uh… Yeah…"
"Yep, it worked too, cause when I talked to Hot Dog this morning, I talked 'em into going on a date with me! Which is why I need you to pick me up, my bike's been impounded." Joey looked at his watch, "Can you be here in about twenty minutes? I'm right in front of my apartment."
"… Okay, Joey. I'll come pick you up." He said calmly and thought, 'I'll pick you up and smack you around.'
"Great! See ya, then."
"Bye."
Tristan put the receiver down and, after a moment of thinking, he turned back to the kitchen door and called to his friend, "Otogi! I'm going to get Joey!"
"…"
"… Otogi? You still in there?"
When there was no answer again, Tristan groaned and walked in, his eyes popping out of his sockets when he saw what had happened. The whole room was veiled in a thick sheet of smoke, but he could see pancake batter everywhere and a rolling pin on the floor next to Otogi. He was in the worst shape of all, covered in blueberry juice and his eyes rolling around in their sockets.
"W-What did you do to yourself?"
"B-Blueberries… blueberries, mommy…"
"… What the hell is going on with everyone today!"
"They… were just so pretty… b-blueberries, mommy… blueberries…"
About twenty minutes later, Tristan was on his motorcycle and racing through the streets a little faster than usual. He had promised Joey he'd be there by around 10:45 but taking care of Otogi took a little longer than expected. He actually didn't have time to drop him off at the hospital (he doubted it was that serious anyway) and so he dropped him off at Yugi's to recover and bug them for a while.
Another turn of the corner and he was pulling up right beside Joey who was dressed in a deep blue t-shirt which said 'Firefly' and a pair of jeans. As the motorcycle stopped, Tristan took off his helmet and looked at Joey from top to bottom.
"And just why do you look so spiffy?"
He smiled, "Eh, no reason. Just felt like it."
"Sure… Listen, Joey, I think I have a few words to say to you. And it's about this whole hotdog thing, I think you're taking it a bit too far and—"
"Not now, buddy, I've got places to be." Joey had already hopped onto the back of the motorcycle and had his arms loosely attached to Tristan's waist. "Let's go, you were five minutes late getting here, you know."
"… Yeah, I know." He started it up and off they went. While they were going down a street, Tristan asked, "So, where exactly are we going?"
"Hot Dog's place."
"… That hotdog has a house?"
"From what I gather, James set Hot Dog up with a place last night. I shudder to think where that beautiful wiener was before… It's kinda sad when I think about it."
"Yeah, well, it's kinda weird when I think about." They turned a corner and the light turned red before they could keep going. Tristan cracked his neck, "So… where does this hotdog of yours live?"
"Um…" Joey blushed and giggled, burying his face into Tristan's jacket, "Tristan, I don't think Hot Dog's exactly mine… yet… A-Ah he he he!"
"… Ya don't say…"
"Oh, yeah, um James said it's right by The Test Tickle, so just go there…"
"Alright." He said and they were off once again when the light turned green. It didn't take very long and before either of them knew it, they were on the West Side again and pulling up in front of that famous nightclub. To both their surprises, James was standing in front of the place, right next to a tree and a little cardboard box beside it.
Joey got off first and walked up to the bartender who, because it wasn't opening time, was in normal street wear.
"Where's Hot Dog's house?"
"Ah… oh, um, right there…" He pointed to the cardboard box and Joey blinked, crouching down and seeing the hotdog sitting in there.
"W-Why does Hot Dog live in a box?" He shouted, turning to James.
James groaned, shaking his head, "Well, it was short notice! What did you want me to do, take the thing home? My dogs would eat it!"
"This isn't where a fine cute of meat such as Hot Dog should be!"
Tristan rolled his eyes, "It should be a garbage can…"
…
TBC…
