STR2D3PO: They aren't sin kids per se, unless you use "sin kids" as a generic catch-all term to mean all OCs derived from Loudcest pairings (the way some people say "Give me a coke" when they really mean Pepsi). Sin kids are their own brand at this point and it's that brand that I really don't care to work with anymore, but I may. I just go where the spirit takes me. And, I won't lie, it took me back to the sin kids recently for the remake of my story The Texas Chainsaw Loud House. Some of them, and Lori, play the bad guys. It's kind of satirical.
For anyone who was in The Loud House Super Server or friends with me on Discord, my account was deleted or disabled by Discord and all of my servers deleted. I don't know why, they didn't even send me an email, I have no idea what it was about. We were reported a while back and Discord sent me an email giving me 48 hours to delete all the lolicon art or face removal. This time nothing. I hear Discord does this shit and I'm appealing. I hope to get my old account back but doubt I will.
Warm wind redolent of flowers and freshly cut grass blew over Franklin Avenue like the perfume scent of summer herself and streetlamps cast puddles of orange light on the sidewalk. The hazy moon lifted above the wavering treetops, its faint glow suffusing the heavens, and stars twinkled like flecks of diamonds on blue velvet. Lugosi and Ramona trailed behind Lester and Lamis, their fingers twined and their palms pressing stickly together; ahead, Lester slipped his arm around Lamis and she rested her head against his shoulder. She said something, and he chuckled heartily. Indeed, Lugosi could imagine him saying in that pompous way of his.
Ramona spoke, bringing him out of his reprieve. "How's the story coming?"
Everyone in Lugosi's family knew that he wrote fan fiction, but he didn't share any details because talking about his work embarrassed him. Ramona was literally the only person in the world he talked to about it, and she even read a few chapters, which was a really touching gesture since I fucking hate to read. He got that, but he was still kind of hurt that she wouldn't finish it...while at the same time endlessly thankful that she put in the effort. Kind of weird to feel that way, but she made him feel all kinds of emotions. He wasn't flat and sonorous like his mother, but he also didn't prance around with his heart on his sleeve like a sensitive little baby. With Ramona, however, he was tender, fussy, gentle, and multiplied every feeling she woke in him (sadness because they were arguing, joy that she was coming over to hang out) at least ten fold, maybe even twenty.
A girl's supposed to do that to you, his father told him once, and Lugosi took his word as gospel: Dad was a straight ass pimp who had more women in one night than most eighties hair bands had in their entire careers. If anyone knew, it was him.
"Good," he said, "I'm almost to the part where Briscoe dies."
"Heart attack, right?"
Aw, she remembered. "Yeah," Lugosi said, "I was thinking he'd be in the bullpen when it happens, but part of me wants it to happen when he's on the toilet."
Ramona's free hand flew to her mouth to stifle a shocked giggle and she doubled over. Lugosi's lips turned up in a smile he couldn't have contained if he wanted to and his heartbeat sped inexplicably up. He could write poetry about her laughter, and if there was a more beautiful sound, he hadn't heard it. "You're a dumbass," she hitched.
"I know," he said proudly. That was her pet name for him. His for her was My Latin Queen. He used it once and for some reason she launched into hysterical laughter and didn't stop until she was crying and gasping for breath. That was the first time she called him dumbass, actually, and she did it with a soft, happy sparkle in her eyes that forever imbued it with positive connotations.
They were in town now, darkened storefronts lining the way. Royal Woods was a small town and closed early; as soon as sunset hit, everyone scrambled to get home before dark like frightened villagers in a cheesy vampire movie. The only thing open was Pissy's Pizza up on the left; neon lights flashed in the window, and faint strands of music from the jukebox seasoned the air. Lamis looked up at Lester, her eyes shimmering much like Ramona's, and with a devilish grin, she grabbed a handful of Lester's ass and squeezed. Lester did not, much to Lugosi's chagrin, laugh like the Pillsbury Doughboy; he did jump a little, though. Lugosi stole a furtive glance at Ramona and wondered if he should do the same.
Dread slithered through the pit of his stomach and he flattened his lips. No, he shouldn't. Call him what you want, but he really liked Ramona and he didn't want to jeopardize what they had.
Or was he being paranoid? Hey, she's a fourteen year old girl, and fourteen year old girls feel the call of nature just the same as boys. Ramona had never indicated she wanted to jump his bones, but, you know what? Neither had he...and he wanted to jump hers pretty damn bad. It stood to reason that she would want the same.
Only, and here's the thing, girls don't have to worry about scaring a boy off by being forward. It's well known that guys are always DTF, so if a girl really wants it, all she has to do is ask. Guys can't do that. Ramona hadn't said or done anything that suggested she was ready, so she probably wasn't. If he tried anything now, she might mistake it as him pushing her or something.
He allowed his eyes to linger on her profile - the delicate line of her jaw, the graceful curve of her throat, her small but firm breasts, their outline almost completely hidden by the formlessness of her dress. The gut clenching urge to cup her cheeks in his hands, press his body against hers, and take her to France swept him like a surge of lava, and he turned away lest he wind up taking himself to Bonertown instead.
In his periphery, she stole her own glance, and his heart skipped a beat. "You should seriously do the toilet thing," she said, "that'd be really funny. I'd read it."
"No pressure," he said.
"Oh, shut up, you'll do fine," she shot back.
"I was talking about all the racist-against-Mexicans stuff I gotta take out now."
Ramona pursed her lips and crushed his hand. He let out a strangled cry, more of surprise than pain, and she smirked tightly. 'I'll take you out."
Now, Lugosi didn't believe in hitting women, but the defiant set of her jaw and the smugness in her eyes begged for retribution, so gritting his teeth, he crushed her hand.
"Ow!"
She ripped her hand away and raised it, palm up like she wanted a high five, and Lugosi jumped back. She came forward, and he ducked around her. She spun on her heels and furrowed her brows angrily, but couldn't keep the smirk from her lips. Lugosi backed into a fire hydrant and she stalked after him like a predator closing in for the kill. With nothing left to do, he knocked her fucking lights out and ran home before she could regain consciousness. Not really; he tried to escape but her hand came down on his arm anyway, hard but not hard enough to hurt.
Much.
He let out a half cry/half laugh and shot out his hands to push her back. Ramona was quicker, though; she grabbed them with hers, their fingers slipping together, and shoved. He stumbled, and pushed back. She staggered but kept her balance, and they stared into each other's eyes like two wrestlers grappling in the middle of a ring. She pushed, and he pushed back; she bowed her head and lifted one foot, and he gave serious thought to kicking her in the shin. "Let go, fag," she said.
"You let go."
That was another one of her pet names for him.
Instead of letting go, she clamped down on his hands and threw herself forward, almost knocking him over. He held her back but -
"Uh, guys?"
They both turned their heads. Lamis stared at them with arched brows and a fond, puckered little smile. Next to her, Lester rolled his eyes and looked like he was trying really hard to not bust out an acerbic comment. Lugosi and Ramona both flushed and let go of the other's hands, Ramona making a show of smoothing the front of her dress and Lugosi suddenly finding reason to study his shoes very, very closely. He and Ramona were kind of...what's the word...playful (?) with each other and did stuff like this all the time. Rarely in front of people because acting like a couple kids was soooort of embarrassing.
"Are you done?" Lamis asked, a jocular inflection in her voice.
"Yeah, we're done," Lugosi said.
"Good, cuz I'm hungry."
She and Lester turned and started up the sidewalk, and Ramona and Lugosi fell in behind. Ramona swatted his arm and he shot her a glance. "Dork," she whispered.
"Geek."
"Loser."
"Well, you're dating me, so that makes you….a loser lover.'
As soon as the L word (guess which one) left his lips, his cheeks burned and he regretted saying it. They hadn't been together long enough to say anything about love.
She didn't seem to register it. "I have bad taste," she said in an eh-I-accept-my-flaws tone.
That made him laugh. "Nice."
Pissy's was directly across the street now, cars parked up and down the curb and people standing outside the front door talking and smoking cigarettes. Lester and Lamis waited for a line of traffic to pass, looked both ways, then crossed. A small, narrow building with a single plate-glass window and a red awning, Pissy's was what Lugosi called a hole in the wall, but the food was fucking epic. He used epic unironically, too, because during your meal, your taste buds went on a thousand mile journey to Mordor and back, only in this AU, Mordor was heaven and all the food was cooked by Jesus himself. It was so good, no lie, that Guy Fieri taped an episode of Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives there years ago...before his massive heart attack. He said the pizza was outta bounds, the garlic knots were on point, and that the baked ziti made him want to slap his grandmother. There was a framed photo of him on the wall; it was like a train wreck, you couldn't look away. Spiked hair, short sleeve button up with flame scheme, sunglasses on backwards...he looked like every eleven year old boy in the year 2000.
Lester, proving that he wasn't a complete caveman, went ahead of Lamis and opened the door. She flashed him a warm smile and went in. Lugosi waited for him to go next, but he simply stood there, gripping the handhold and looking grumpy. When Lugosi didn't move, he gestured impatiently. "Come on, step lively."
Lugosi nodded to Ramona, and she went in first, then he followed, Lester bringing up the rear.
A long, scuffed counter flanked one wall, and booths upholstered in torn red vinyl lined the facing one. Overhead lamps provided dim, ambient lighting that went a long way in hiding the cracked tiles, cobwebs, and general grubbiness for which Pissy's was famous (it wasn't a diner and it wasn't a drive-in...guess what Guy classified it as). Photos and posters dotted the grimy walls (GoodFellas, Scarface, and The Godfather, because Italian equals organized crime), lit candles in empty wine bottles sat on every table, and harried waitresses buzzed through the dining room with trays of pasta, soup, and 'za like bees on crack. The smell of food and the low chattering voice of two dozen voices slapped Lugosi in the face (I'm not your grandma, Ghost of Guy Fieri, damn) and classic pop drifted from a shabby looking Payola in a corner. Sounded like Kelly Clarkson but he wasn't sure, he liked Vaporwave, not fagwave.
Heh. Gotta write that one down.
"I hope there's a table," Lamis worried. Every one Lugosi could see was ock-u-pod-o.
"There had better be," Lester grumbled, "we've reservations."
Ramona nudged Lugosi's arm and nodded to a booth in an alcove to their left. "Check it out," she said.
Lugosi followed her line of sight to a morbidly obese man with a napkin tucked into his shirt. He held a sauce slathered rack of ribs in his hands and tore meat from the bone like a starving dog. Red stained his lips, chin, and cheeks, and more coated the tips of his sausage fingers. Lugosi crinkled his nose, and Ramona grinned wickedly...which meant she was about to make fun of him without mercy. "He's so fat he had to buy two reservations."
Kek. Mean but mildly amusing.
"He's so fat he brought a spoon to the Super Bowl."
Lugosi bit back a nasty wheeze. Ramona was like a house fire when she teased: She started small, like a spark on the curtains, then rapidly got worse and worse (or better and better, depending on how you looked at it) until everything was burning and you had no chance in hell of escaping.
Her grin sharpened with satisfaction, and she continued. "He's so fat even Dora can't explore him. He's so fat he was baptized at SeaWorld. He's so fat it takes two planes, a train, and a bus to get on his good side. He's so fat he has to wear six different watches: One for each time zone. He's so fat that when God said let there be light, He asked him to move out of the way." Her devious simper and glinting eyes were both intimidating and alluring, and for the second time that night, Lugosi beat back the urge to take her face in his hands, rub the tip of her nose tenderly with his, then take her so far into France she'd need a French phrase book just to make her way around.
Someone coughed, and they both looked up to find Lamis glaring at them. "That's really mean."
"Indeed," Lester said. "I'd like to try." Lamis shot him a dirty look and he cleared his throat. "He is so corpulently overweight that his arteries are clogged with excess fat and he will most likely suffer a devastating miocardio infarction before his fiftieth birthday, resulting in either surgery or death."
He chuckled, then sobered when Lamis sneered. "You're not funny," she said.
Before she could strangle him, a hostess with a jaunty ponytail came over and lead them to an out of the way booth. Lamis and Lester sat on one side and Ramona and Lugosi on the other, Lugosi opting to sit nearer to the wall. The hostess slapped a menu in front of each one, then whipped out a pad of paper and took their drink orders: Cokes all around, except for Lester. He'll have a water, Lamis said. When the hostess was gone, Lester turned to her and lowered his brows. "A water?"
"You have to watch your weight," Lamis said as though that should be obvious. To be fair, by now it should have been. "You're already going to be eating greasy, fatty food. I just saved you a few calories." She offered a smug, closed lip smile. "You're welcome."
Ramona opened her menu and scanned the first page. Lugosi flipped through his, already knowing what he wanted but open to changing his mind if he saw something more appetizing. He glanced at Ramona from the corner of his eye and, yep, found something more appetizing alright. He darted his gaze to her leg, so close he could reach out and lay his hand on it if he were brave enough. He looked it up and down, from her bare and exquisitely crafted ankle to the point where it joined with her shapely hip. How soft and warm would her inner thigh be? How soft and warm would her center be if he cupped it in his hand and took her on a tour of France? Would it get hotter and hotter the way his dick would surely get harder and harder?
Speaking of getting hard, Lugosi Jr. was starting to push himself outta bed, and Lugosi whipped his eyes back to his menu. Go down, go down.
Umm. Go down.
Shut the fuck up.
"What do you want, dumbass?" Ramona asked. He was blushing, shaking, and discomfited, and the sweet, musical sound of her voice didn't help matters.
Across the table, Lester closed his menu, sat it down, and crossed his arms. He looked stiff and uncomfortable.
Hey, just like Lugosi.
We really are brothers.
"Uhh…" he completely blanked. He knew only that she asked him a question and he needed to answer it. See, this is why thinking dirty thoughts is a bad idea; they have a way of forcing everything else out and made it so you had to grasp and straws and buy time to - oh, right. What did he want. "I'm getting a calzone," he said with a deep nod.
Lamis grinned. "Me too. What kind?"
"Pepperoni," he said. Pepperoni was the best thing Italy ever produced. Aside from Fascism.
Joking.
Ramona scrunched her moist, pink, kissable lips from side to side in indecision and let out a long, thoughtful hum. "I don't know what I want. Is the zita good?"
"It's very good," Lester said, "that's what I'm getting."
Lamis nodded. "It's okay, not my favorite, though. The alfredo is oh my God, though." She threw her head back and fluttered her eyelids obscenely.
Because he was weak, Lugosi was looking at Ramona's knee again and spinning grandiose fantasies of feeling its shape beneath his hand. A girl's knee is, like, the halfway point to her crotch...if you start at her feet.
Ummm...Ramona's feet. Delicate, petite, pink polished nails…
Lugosi blinked. He wasn't a foot kind of guy; the fact that he was practically salivating over the thought of touching, massaging, and kissing Ramona's feet was like rock bottom, the point where every addict realizes he's gone too far down the rabbit hole and oh, shit, I have a problem.
And like an addict, he didn't give a shit. He'd slip her Croc off slowly and pepper her perfectly formed foot with gentle kisses from sole to...idk, the top part...lingering on every precious toe. He wouldn't lick because he wasn't that far gone, but he'd stroke, kiss, touch, knead, rub, and -
Oh, shit, now his boner was raging and a blush so hot it was cold spread across his face. He ripped his gaze away and sent it back to the closed menu before him. On the front, a rosy cheeked chef with a pencil line mustache made a circle with his thumb and forefinger Mama mia, that's a'spicy meat'a'ball. He tried to focus on that instead of the images flickering through his mind: Trailing kisses up Ramona's naked legs, making her squirm and pant; pulling her leggings slowly down like unwrapping a present, the fabric bunching as it brushed along her sun kissed skin and freeing her dank, fragrant heat (he didn't know what a woman smelled like, but topfuckingumf); holding her most fragile and sacred part gently in the palm of his hand and kissing her deeply; giving his love and devotion and receiving hers in turn…
He bit down on the insides of his cheeks so hard he tasted blood. The visions dissipated like windswept smoke and he realized he was holding his breath. "...to die for," Lamis said and waved her hand. She glanced at Lester for support. "Isn't it?"
"It is," Lester said.
Lugosi's head spun; he had no idea what they were talking about. Ramona's body? Yeah, it was to die for.
"That sounds really good," Ramona said, "I might try it."
"I'd get one but I don't want to torture Lester," Lamis said and patted her brother-boyfriend's leg. "He can't have any."
Lester rolled his eyes.
"The last time we checked, he was 228, down from 235," Lamis said. "We're making progress."
Lester shifted in discomfort. "Lamis, please," he snorted.
"My dad's 250," Ramona said. "Most of it's beer. He doesn't eat all that much."
Lamis blinked in surprise, but before she could reply (oh my god, he drinks beer? That's so unhealthy) a shadow fell across the table. All four looked up to see a seven foot tall dinosaur suit looming over them, its skin greenish blue and its scales shimmering in the light. It wore a waist apron, sunglasses, and a bandana, and held a tray full of glasses. "What it do?" he asked in a deep voice. "Who had what?"
What the fuck is this shit? Looked like some random, off the wall BS Lugosi would throw into one of his fanfics when he got bored.
"Uhh…" Lamis drew, just as shocked his him. "W-We all had Cokes and he had water." She hooked a thumb at Lester, who gaped at the gargantuan with open wonder.
The dinosaur sat the tray on the edge of the table, grabbed a glass, and put it in front of Ramona, then on in front of Lamis, then Lugosi. Finally he handed Lester his water; he wasn't very careful about it, and some sloshed over the rim. He stepped back and rubbed his hands like he was about to make some money. "'Ight, name's Dino and Imma be takin care of y'all tonight. What'chu want? We got bottomless soup, nigga, endless breadsticks...we got the wing hook up if y'all want some wings. Buffalo, dry rub, BBQ, nigga, you name it, we got it."
Lamis looked strickenly around at the others, and when no one spoke, she said, "I'll, uh, I'll have a sausage calzone with green peppers and onions."
Dino jotted that down.
Shaking his head like a man coming out of a trance, Lester asked, "Why are you wearing that?"
The dinosaur looked him up and down, and even though his maw remaned frozen, Lugosi couldn't help but see a sneer of distaste. "Why you wearing that sweater, nigga? It's July. Yo tits get cold?"
Lester's jaw clenched and a laugh was shocked from Lugosi's throat. Ramona, mouth agape, smiled and let out a raspy chuckle. "Now see here…" Lester started indignantly.
"Shut yo ass up and order somethin," Dino snapped, "I got other tables waitin, nigga. You might be so fat the other planets revolve around yo ass, but I don't, so take head yo greasy ass head out yo asshole and tell me what'chu wanna eat."
The boy's face turned bright red. "I'd like to speak to your manager," he grated.
"Nigga, you speakin." Dino tapped a henceforth unseen name tag on his chest. MANAGER, it said.
The manager...of this place...wore a dinosaur suit.
"What'chu gotta say? You wanna cry like a lil baby? Go head, baby, cry. Want me bring yo water back in a sippy cup? You need a booster seat? Nigga, we ain't got no changin station in the bathroom, so you best hold yo piss and shit til you get home."
Lester's teeth grinded together with an audible crunch and he turned pointedly away. "I'd rather nothing."
"Fine," Dino said, "you can stand to skip a meal, fatty." He turned to Ramona, and she cringed against Lugosi as if for protection. "What you tryna have, girl?"
Ramona's knee pressed against his knee and her elbow rubbed with his; his heart took off into the stratosphere and he reflexively put his arm around her shoulders. She melted into him, and her satiny warmth flowed into him. "Uh...baked ziti," she said warily.
Dino jotted that down. Finally, he looked at Lugosi. "What bout you, Mr. Dark as Night?"
"Pepperoni calzone."
Writing that in his pad, Dino looked around the table. "Ight, Imma be back."
With that, he turned and walked away. Lugosi and Ramona both craned their necks to watch him go. His tail dragged on the floor, and maybe it was Lugosi's imagination, but he swore it twitched as though it were alive.
"Alright, wow," Lamis said, "he's a jerk."
"A miscreant of the lowest order," Lester said. "I've half a mind to get up and walk out."
Miscreant or not, Lester's eyes roiled with hurt and for that alone, Lugosi respected the hell out of Dino.
Ramona shifted, and he realized that they were still cuddled up. She made no move to pull away, so neither did he; she fit perfectly into him, like a puzzle piece, and her weight felt right. He turned his head slightly at the same time she turned hers, and their eyes met. Looking into hers watery browns always made him weak in the knees and stoked the most amazing sensations in his stomach like a poker to a bed of glowing embers. A strand of her silky hair brushed his nose, and the smell of her natural scent filled his nostrils. His dick tugged impatiently at his body as if to forsake its timid host and strike out on its own, and every hormone he had screamed out at once for him to kiss her.
Pink, like spring flowers at bloom, colored her cheeks and a cute, diffident little heh escaped her lips.
"I would too, but their food is really good," Lamis said. "I'm not leaving him a tip, though."
Ramona slipped her fingers into her hair and tilted her head shyly away. "So, uh...that was interesting."
"Yeah," Lugosi said. All he had to do was turn and his lips would be on her cheek...then the side of her throat...then his hand squeezing her small but pert breast...then his tongue caressing hers, slowly at first but faster as they both gave into the pounding tides of their passion.
Huh, I gotta write that one down too.
"Only in Royal Woods," he added.
"Yeah, there's something seriously wrong with this town," Lamis said. "Like something in the water."
"There is the Naval Surface Warfare center in Dahlgren," Lester pointed out. Dahlgren, three towns over, was home to one of the largest US Naval bases in the country and where weapons and munitions were developed. Once a month, they tested them on Lake Jackson, the largest lake in Royal County...and also where most of the region's drinking water originated. That would explain why there were so many weirdos in town. Seriously, the local Down Syndrome rate was higher than the national average, people got cancer left and right, weirdos like Dino abounded, and no one so much as batted an eye at Dad living in a huge incest harem with his ten sisters. You know how all those crazy news stories come out of Florida? 300 pound man breaks into McDonald's to drink fryer grease; man arrested for attacking wife with slice of pizza...yeah, Royal Woods was the same.
Oh, but the government said there was no danger at all.
"It's something," Lamis said.
Across the dining room, a girl about sixteen with long red hair got up from a booth, swayed, and started toward the bathroom. When she passed the table, she glanced at Lamis, and her eyes widened with recognition. "Oh, hey!"
Lamis glanced up at her, and her furrowed brow smoothed. "Oh, hey, Cindy. How's it going?"
A vague memory stirred in the back of Lugosi's head. Lamis mentioning someone named Cindy from school or knowing someone named Cindy or something. Ramona snuggled closer, half turned, and took his hand in hers. She spread his fingers apart like a curious little girl examining something strange, new, and interesting, and Lugosi's eyes went to the back of her neck. If he brushed her hair aside, he could kiss it. Hell, he didn't even have to move her hair out of the way; in his state, he'd kiss that too.
"Good," Cindy said, and Lugosi detected a hint of thickness in her voice, "it's my birthday so I'm hanging with some friends. Celebrating." Her voice lifted suggestively on the last word. "Celebrating"
"Happy birthday," Lamis said.
"Thank you," Cindy replied, then glanced at Lester. "That your boyfriend?"
"Yep," Lamis said with a touch of pride she by all rights had no business feeling - like a girl tickled pink over her ugly, knock off Uggs. She leaned back against Lester and splayed her hand on his pudgy stomach. "He's my snuggle bear."
Lester's face flushed red again, and Lugosi couldn't tell if he liked being called that or hated it. Probably a little of both. Ramona grimaced (too...sweet...yuck) and Lugosi swallowed a mocking Nelson Muntz haha. Snuggle bear? Kek. Wow. He knew Lamis could be a dork, but with her playing Mrs. Responsibility all the time, he rarely ever saw her whimsical side. You know, come to think of it, she and Lester had one thing in common; they both had sticks up their butts. Lamis was far more good natured and optimistic, but took great pride in having a level-head, being dependable, all that other gay stuff, which lead her to be kind of a Hitler sometimes. Lester was like...hmm...that guy who shot up that mosque in New Zealand: Full of memes and hatred.
J/k, memes were cool, so of course Lester didn't like them.
"...bathroom," Cindy said. She turned away from the table, staggered a little, caught her balance, and disappeared. Ramona held Lugosi's hand up, studied his fingers, then pulled his pinky sharply, making him yelp.
They say Latinas are "fiery" but he'd never heard anything about sadistic.
She flopped her head back and looked at him upside down, a bouncy grin on her lips. "Sorry."
Lugosi didn't believe in hurting girls, but he did believe in equality among the sexes. Reaching out, he grabbed one of her pigtails and yanked. "Ow! Jerk!" She drove her elbow into his side and the air left his lungs in a rush. Oof. Who has two thumbs and will spend the next week pissing blood? This guy.
Cindy came back from the bathroom, went to her table, then came back a few moments later with an armful of glass bottles. "Here," she said and sat one in front of Lamis, "happy birthday to me."
The contents were blue and the label boasted a picture of a tropical beach. Lamis looked at it as Cindy sat another in front of Lester, then one before Ramona. "Is this alcohol?"
"It sure is," Cindy said and batted her eyelashes. She sat the final bottle down with a thunk in front of Lugosi. On closer inspection, there were little pictures of coconuts and pineapples too. Sweet. Coconuts and pineapples rule.
His older sister didn't agree: Her eyes widened and her lips parted in horror almost like she thought the bottle was going to come alive and attack (When Good Booze Goes Bad). "Uh...no, w-we don't really drink...we'll all too young."
"So am I," Cindy grinned.
Ramona picked up her bottle and turned it this way and that, her brow cutely pinched, and Lugosi grabbed his; aw, man, it's piss warm. I can't drink that.
Snapping her mouth closed, Lamis looked up at her friend. There was a steely resolve in her eyes that you only saw when she made up her mind. "Thank you for the offer, but -"
"Yo, Cin-day!"
Cindy turned to her table, then back to Lamis. "I gotta go. Those are really good. Enjoy."
Lamis raised her index finger and began to reply, but Cindy staggered off. Sighing, Lamis look at the bottle in front of her with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. Lugosi twisted off the cap off his.
"Put that down!" Lamis started. "Don't drink it!"
Lester snatched his bottle and read the label. "The alcohol by volume content is negligible at best," he said stuffily, "it's practically fruit punch."
She shot him a dirty look. "I don't care. It's still alcohol and Lugosi and Ramona are far too young to drink."
Lugosi lifted the bottle to his nose and sniffed. "How does it smell?" Ramona asked anxiously.
Like I'm about to drink the shit out it. "Really good," he said. He lifted it to his lips, and Lamis paled. "Stop!"
Cool liquid sloshed down the back of his throat. It didn't taste as good as it smelled - the battery acid aftertaste made him wince - but it wasn't bad. He smacked his lips and smiled smugly. Look at me, ma, I'm a man now.
Lamis glared. "No more. If Dad finds out I let you drink -"
"For Christ's sake," Lester said, "it's a wine cooler, Lamis, not moonshine." He twisted the cap off his and took a drink, then smacked his lips. "I've had stronger mouthwash."
Ramona tentatively opened hers and gave it a scrutinizing whiff.
"That doesn't matter," Lamis said, "I -"
"You said you wanted a nice night out," Lugosi said and took another swig, "so relax and have one."
Ramona lifted the bottle to her lips and upended it. Lamis looked strickenly from one to the other like a woman overwhelmed, then to Lester as if for help. "It's barely alcoholic," he offered.
"But...we don't drink...it might affect us more strongly."
Lester snorted. "I think we can handle a single wine cooler apiece, Lamis."
"This isn't bad," Ramona said to her drink.
Lamis pouted at hers...then gave in. "Alright." She picked it up, handling it with the care one might employ with a venomous snake, then twisted the lid off. She raised it to her nose, sniffed, then arched her brows. "It smells okay."
She took a sip. "And tastes even better."
"Atta girl," Lester said.
She was right, and it managed to somehow taste better and better with every sip Lugosi took. He swished each slug from one side of his mouth to another like a wine snob appraising the worth and character of a rare vintage. At first, the pineapple was more predominate, then, halfway through, he could taste the coconut more strongly. Around that time, he realized something strange was happening; the edges of his consciousness blurred and warm, roaring good cheer filled his head. Lamis and Lester both visibly thawed - their postures untensed, their shoulders slumped, and they both became really talkative. Ramona turned to face away from Lugosi her feet jutting over the edge of the bench, and leaned her back against him. He unthinkingly slipped his arm around her neck and she clutched his arm with her free hand. Her closeness made him feel even better, and when he was done with his wine, he was grinning like a dumbass.
Lester folded his arms on the edge of the table and hanged his swaying head. His eyes were bleary and his mouth a drunken squiggle. "...then I said I came for a battle of the wits, but you are clearly unarmed."
Lamis screamed laughter and waved her hand - stop, you're killing me. "You're so bad," she hitched.
"He was so offended, he left the group and deleted his account."
Lugosi turned to face Ramona. Given their position, his lips were bare inches from her temple and her hair tickling his neck. "How do you feel?" he slurred.
"Like I'm drunk," she said and laughed.
"No one's drunk," Lester said, stumbling over his words, "we're simply having fun." He looked at Lamis. "Now I simply have to use the...the laboratory."
Lamis turned to him, tucked her chin against her chest, and gave him a sly look. "You mean lavatory."
He smiled. "I do. You know me so well." He tilted forward, and Lamis met his lips halfway. Deep beneath the fog of his inebriation, Lugosi knew that such an openly display of affection from Lester was really fucking weird, but he didn't care - he didn't even care when Lester cupped her cheek in his hand and sloppily took her to France. His palm was splayed on Ramona's chest, like, inches from her boob and her body was molded to his - keeping from making a move was getting harder and harder and, you know what, didn't seem like such a bad idea now. Maybe it was the booze, but he felt a certain confidence that he didn't before.
Laughing, Lamis pushed Lester away and slid out of the booth. She fell backwards, and her eyes widened in alarm, but she shot out her hand and grabbed the back of the seat, saving herself. She laughed hysterically, and people at other tables looked at her. Lester got up, swayed, and almost toppled over. He started off in the direction of the bathroom, and Lamis slapped his ass. "None of that now," he grinned over his shoulder...then bumped into someone. "Pardon me," he hiccuped.
When he was gone, Lamis half sat and half fell, slapped her hands on the table, and pushed herself up. Her bangs hung in her fevered eyes, and she tossed her head. "I'm gonna have some of that when I get home," she said thickly. "I like it when he talks nerdy to me," she said and exaggeratedly winked, "get it?"
Lugosi would have, but he was entirely focused on Ramona and trying to make up his addled mind. Should he go for it or not? He used to think she'd get mad at him, but that was dumb. It was all dumb. He wrote fan fiction, what did he know? Girls are made to be forward. No, no, wait, guys are made to be forward. It's, like, biology. You know? The genders evolved a certain way - men the hunters and women the...uh...damn, thinking hard...you know, waiterers. Dudes are built to pursue women and women are made to be pursued. If you look at how boys and girls play, it's, like...uh, a game of cat and mouse. With all our actions we...uh...we send social cues and signals and wow, Ramona's been sending me signals forever. Breaking my finger...she pushed me earlier, didn't she? That's a very subtle way of saying come and get me, big boy. Be a man and pursue me. Fulfil your biological instincts and mine too~
He furrowed his brow and tried really hard to concentrate through the warm wool flooding his skull. Damn, she had been sending him signals...and he missed every single one like a dumbass.
She wanted him.
Probably as badly as he wanted her.
He turned to her; her hair brushed his nose and his heartbeat sped up. Now's the time. Be a man and chase her down. A ripple of anxiety cut through his stomach and he swallowed around a lump of ice. He took a deep breath...and slowly moved his hand down over the swell of her breast.
Ramona stiffened, and he froze, suddenly certain that he was terribly wrong and really fucked up. He started to move it back and cook up an excuse (sorry, I was, uh, passing out), but she relaxed and laid her head back in the crook of his neck, her cheek skimming his. W-Was she okay with this? She turned her head slightly, and the elfin little grin on her lips told him that she was.
"Hi," she said huskily.
Lugosi gave her breast a light squeeze, and her smile widened. "Hi," he replied. He was harder than calculus right now, and through he couldn't feel much of her beneath the layers of her dress, shirt, and bra, she was soft, squishy, and warm - just like a girl should be.
"I think I'm drunk," she said. Her gaze was hazy and unfocused and her smile was weak and slipshod, happy but tired too.
"So am I," he said. He squeezed her again, and locked up in surprise when she responded by laying her hand on his inner thigh. Her fingertips were inches from his crotch, so close he all he had to do was buck his hips and she'd be there. Her chest rose and fell with the beat of her ragged breathing, and a fire truck red blush spread across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes pooled with desire, and he realized with a flush that she was turned on.
They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then Lugosi leaned into her. She parted her lips and gently flicked his tongue with hers in a serious greeting. Lugosi tilted his head and returned the kiss, one hand rubbing her breast and the other slipping into her hair. A giddy tremble raced through her frame, and she ran her hand gently up and down his thigh as she stroked his tongue. Her fingertips absently brushed his crotch, then she was cupping it in her palm, the mind blasting sensation of her warm touch making him gasp into her mouth. He deepened the kiss and grazed his fingers down her throat, his opposite hand sliding down the front of her dress and clumsily fumbling at her bra, needing to feel her skin against his.
"Lugosi?"
Without breaking the kiss, Ramona reached into her dress, pushed his hand aside, and yanked her bra over her breasts. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to the smooth, fleshy mound over her heart; it was hot and quivered with excitement in his grasp, her rigid nipple mashing insistently against the heel of his palm.
"Hey, Lugosi…"
Lugosi's passion crested and he pulled away from Ramona's lips. He peppered urgent kisses across her cheek and the side of her velvety throat, and she tilted her head to give him better access, low, breathy moans bursting from her lips. She squeezed his erection and he moaned against her skin.
"LUGOSI!"
Lamis glowered at them, her eyes squinted and her head swaying. Lugosi's heart and dick throbbed in time, and every atom in his body pulled him toward Ramona like a million maganants. "What?" he hissed.
Lamis's features softened. "You go find Lester for me?" she slurred, a hint of pleading in her voice just keen enough to cut through the fog in his brain. "It's be a looooong time and I miss him."
Really? You interrupted me for that? "He's fine," Lugosi said, "he just went to take a piss."
"That was long time ago," Lamis said, "I'm worried. Go find my snuggle bear, please?" She stuck out her bottom lip and gave him God tier puppy dog eyes that could totally melt steel beams.
"Fine," he said.
Lamis smiled brightly. "Thank you, good brother."
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Ramona's brow pinched in disappointment, and he kissed the tip of her nose. "I'll be right back," he said, "and we can pick up where we left off."
She clamped her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded. "Yes, please."
Those two words, and the needy inflection with which she spoke them, followed Lugosi through the dining room; the taste of her mouth lingered on his lips, and his palm tingled with the memory of her bare breast. He'd touched lots of cool stuff in his time, but nothing like that. Firm yet soft, perky and hot. Just thinking about it made his dick ache, and he had to walk hunched over like an old man to hide his hard-on.
The bathrooms were down a hallway flanking the counter, the women's room first then the men's. Have you ever noticed that the woman's room always seems to come first? It's almost like they think women can't hold their wee as long as men, and that if you make them go a few extra steps, you're gonna be dealing with puddles of piddle everywhere. He pushed the door open and went inside. Tile walls. Tile floor. Three stalls, urinals, sinks underneath a mirror. Typical set up. He looked around and didn't see Lester. Huh, where -?
The sound of liquid splashing into liquid found his ears, and he winced. Lester was either taking a diarrhea dump or puking.
Rolling his eyes, Lugosi checked the first two stalls, but they were empty. The door of the third stood ajar, and inside, Lester knelt at the toilet like a pagan worshipper at an altar to a vulgar god. His shirt tail was sloppily untucked and his back rapidly expanded and contracted as he gasped for breath.
Someone can't handle their liquor. "Hey."
Lester jerked and looked over his shoulder. His face was flushed and his eyes blood red. Even though Lugosi couldn't say he liked his older brother, his guts twinged in sympathy anyway. "You alright?"
Nodding, Lester turned back to the commode. "I'm fine, I just...took ill. That's all." He pushed to his feet, and his knees gave out, spilling him back to the floor.
"Here," Lugosi said, "let me help."
He went over, got his arms under Lester's shoulders, and helped him to a standing position. The older boy swayed back and forth like a tree in a hurricane but didn't go down. "I'm good now," Lester said. Lugosi backed up, and Lester came out of the stall. At the sink, he turned the faucet on and splashed cold water in his face while Lugosi stood close by, ready to render assistance if need be.
Done, Lester braced himself against the edge of the counter and looked up at Lugosi. For a long time, he didn't speak, and Lugosi started to chafe, then he mumbled, "You know, you aren't bad but looking at your face infuriates me sometimes."
Oh. Nice. "What's wrong with my face?"
He didn't know what response he expected, but it certainly wasn't the one he got. "You're normal," Lester stated.
"Normal?" Lugosi asked, tasting the word as though it were foul.
Lester nodded. "Normal. I'm not." He tapped his temple. "Because of this."
Ahhhh, okay, he feels like his epic intelligence alienates him from other people, whom he considers normal and resents. That makes -
"Mother did this to me," he said, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice.
"Well…" Lugosi started but didn't know how to continue, "you sure didn't get it from Dad."
Lester favored him with a blank stare. "You don't understand. Mother literally did this to me. I was a normal boy such as yourself...and the bitch couldn't stand it." He turned away, but before he did, Lugosi was shocked to see deep, seething pain in his brother's eyes. "I was three and playing with...trucks," he mused, "not solving complicated equations. Mother didn't like that. She wanted her progeny to be like her." He stared at himself in the mirror, his eyes hard and his lips puckered sourly. "So she cut my head open and did something to my brain. I hate her for that and I hate father for letting it happen...even if he didn't know about it." He turned to Lugosi. "And sometimes I hate all of you for being normal while I'm not. Do you know how hard it is for me to turn my brain off and sleep? It's torture."
Lugosi was speechless.
"Anyway," Lester said and stood up straight, "if I'm a bastard to you, that's why. You didn't do anything wrong, I'm just jealous of you."
For some reason, that struck him as funny; he laughed and clapped Lugosi's arm so hard Lugosi almost fell over. "Don't ever mention this to anyone. Not even to me. I won't hear of it."
Okay, if you're not just drunk and talking out of your ass, your mom fucked with your head. Pretty sure that's illegal and downright certain it's immoral. "Did she really do that?" he heard himself asking. His voice dripped with horror.
"Indeed."
Lugosi's head spun. So...he was a normal kid and his mother wanted him to be a super genius like her. He saw Lester as he must have been at two or three, an average little boy clad in overalls and happily playing with his toys, bright-eyed, smiling, without a care in the world.
Then enter Lisa, a syringe in one hand and a pizza cutter in the other. A shiver dropped down his spine. What kind of monster would do that to their own child?
Now he felt like he was going to puke.
Lester patted him on the shoulder, then turned and went out the door. Lugosi lingered for a moment, trying to process what he just learned, but his head was clouded with lust and intoxication and thinking hurt. He followed his brother, and caught up to him in the dining room. If what he said was true, then Lugosi could understand the perpetual PMSing. Being locked in your own mind, isolated from everyone else, unable to talk to them, share interests and passions with them...and all the while knowing your mother did it to you on purpose…
His family was even more fucked up than he thought.
They were ten feet away from the table when Lester, who'd pulled ahead, stopped, and Lugosi ran into him. Hey, man, what gives? He leaned to one side to see around his brother, and his heart jagged. Dino stood at the table, bent forward like a stern mother and whipping his (metaphorically) burning red eyes between Lamis and Ramona. Lamis's head was bowed and her shoulders shook with laughter, and Ramona held her hand to her mouth, wicked delight dancing in her eyes.
"Y'all think it's funny, huh?" Dino asked sharply. "We got kids up in here and look at yo lil peace sign wearin ass. So drunk you can barely sit up. Girl, uh uh, this a family place. I don't play that shit."
Uh-oh. They were in trouble.
Ramona giggled, and Dino shot her a withering look. "What you laughin at, snaggletooth ho?"
Ramona's face fell, and Lugosi froze mid-step.
"With'cho uneven bangs, lookin like yo hairdresser Freddy Krueger. Got'cho Dollar Store shoes on, yo vendin machine necklace, thinkin you all that. Bitch, you a pigeon." Ramona's lips quivered and water shimmered in her brown eyes. Suddenly Lugosi was on fire, fury sweeping through him like a brush fire and consuming everything in its path. His hands curled into shaking fists and his teeth bared. The deep hurt in Ramona's eyes plunged into Lugosi's heart like an icepick, and hot, white rage detonated in the center of his skull.
He lunged forward, driven by some terrible outside force, but Lester shoved him out of the way and got in front of him. Slamming one foot against the floor like an anime character renting the earth, he jabbed one righteous finger at the dinosaur's back. "I've had about enough of you," he slurred. Dino perked up and slowly turned. "You don't talk to my...my boyfriend's brother like that."
Dino stalked toward them, and suddenly all of Lugosi's anger drained away, replaced by cold fear. Dino towered over Lester, his frozen face darkening, and Lester glared up at him like a scrappy midget challenging a much larger, much stronger, much more physically adept opponent. Lugosi's stomach knotted and even though he was just talking shit about hating Lester, he was fucking terrified for him.
Leaning over until his face was as intimidatingly close to Lester's as possible, Dino sniffed. "What you gon do?"
This was not going to end well. Lester was a fat brainiac and he if he stepped to Dino, he was going to wind up a greasy stain on the floor. Maybe he deserved it, but Lugosi was damned if he was going to let that happen to his brother.
Lester hiccuped. "I'm going to -" he glanced over Dino's shoulder and paled. "Dear God."
The mascot turned, didn't see anything, then turned back just as Lester threw a loose right hook that crashed into Dino's jaw.
Because he was so confident in his own immunity to attack, Dino wasn't ready; he staggered back and bumped against the table. For one second he teetered, then he crashed down onto it. The legs gave out and it collapsed in a cacophony of breaking plates, bursting glasses, and jangling forks. Lamis and Ramona both cried out and threw up their hands, and shocked gasps rose from the other patrons. Lester smiled smugly and pointed at the dinosaur. "Worldstar!"
Lugosi's jaw hung slack. He didn't know what was more shocking, Lester's punch or that he knew what Worldstar was.
He didn't have time to worry about that, though; Dino sat up in the ruins of the table, shook his head, and fixed Lester with a deadly glower. "Oh, you done fucked up now." In one smooth, fluid, impossible motion, he sprang to his feet and snatched Lester up by the front of his sweater vest, dragging him high off the ground. Lugosi's heart launched into his throat and Lamis wailed her boyfriend's name.
The gravity of his predicament finally penetrated Lester's drunken stupor, and his eyes widened with holy terror. Before he knew what he was doing, Lugosi threw himself at the dinosaur and battered one massive, skyscraper sized flank with his fists. "Get off of him!" he screamed.
Dino shot out his free arm and swatted Lugosi away like a bug. People shouted and talked excitedly, and a woman screamed. Lamis got up to help, but tripped over a piece of broken table and took the floor to France. Ramona darted her eyes around but was paralyzed where she sat.
"I'mma kill yo brother and I'mma kill you too," Dino said. He wrapped one massive hand around Lester's throat and squeezed. The air burst from his lungs and his eyes bulged from their sockets. Lugosi's heart dropped. He had to something, he couldn't let his brother die, he had to help, stop it, he looked around for a weapon, something, anything, and spotted a long, thick sliver of wood, one edge flat and the other jagged. Coming alive, he bent over, grabbed it, and hefted it like a bat. Dino was strangling Lester with both paws now and shaking him like a crocodile with a dying animal in its bill. "What, nigga?" he screamed triumpetly, "what, nigga?"
Gritting his teeth, Lugosi swung, and the makeshift bat connected with Dino's broad back. The mascot took no notice, made nary a sign that he even felt it. He redoubled his grip and carried on obnoxiously shouting, "What, nigga?" Lester weakly clawed at the backs of Dino's hands and frantically kicked his feet, his fight weakening like a candle snuffing in the night. His face turned first blue, then deep purple. Panic filled Lugosi and he hit Dino again, and again.
"Someone call the police!" a woman cried.
"Nah, fuck the po-leece," Dino shouted, "we got some justice right here. What, nigga? What, nigga?"
On the floor, Lamis sobbed hysterically.
Lugosi hit Dino again, and Dino started to turn. "Yo lil bitch ass gon be -"
The bat was already arching through the air. Lugosi aimed for the mascot's back, but he turned too quickly...and it struck him square in the privates so hard vibrations thrummed up Lugosi's arms. A sharp exhalation exploded from Dino's throat, and he doubled over, his hands releasing and dropping Lester to the floor in a trembling, panting heap. Lugosi stared up at the giant and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.
Then, clutching his crotch, Dino sank weakly to his knees and hung his head.
D-Did I win?
Lamis scrambled to her feet and shambled over to Lester, who lay on his side gasping for breath. She dropped to one knee and ran her hands over him like a mother checking her hatchling for injuries. "Are you okay, snuggle bear?"
Dino swung from side to side like a tree getting ready to fall, and satisfied that he was vanquished, Lugosi let the wood drop from his hands. He remembered Ramona, and his heart skipped a long, wavering beat. He looked up, and she sat where he left her, eyes staring and trauma scoured. Tears leaked down her pallid cheeks and she hugged herself tightly as if against a chill. Lugosi's stomach panged and he went to her. "Are you alright?"
She blinked and seemed to come back from the ether. "I..I don't -"
Before she could finish, Lugosi was wrenched back by the fabric of his shirt. Waiters in white dress shirts and black slacks held Lester upright, arm twisted behind his back, and Lamis in a headlock. One grabbed Ramona by the wrist and dragged her to her feet; she let out a sharp yelp, and Lugosi tensed. "Get the fuck off her!"
From his spot on the floor, Dino sucked ragged breaths. "Get they asses out here," he said, his voice weak and higher pitched than before. The waiter holding Lugosi spun him around and started marching him toward the door. The ones holding Lester, Lamis, and Ramona fell in line like stormtroopers and behind them, Dino caught his second wind. Rearing up on his knees, he let loose a wall cracking roar. "Y'ALL LIL INBRED MOTHERFUCKAS DON'T DO NOTHIN BUT CAUSE PROBLEMS!"
At the door, the waiter shoved Lugosi through, and he fell to his hands and knees. Lester landed on one side of him, face first with an oof, and Lamis on the other. Ramona landed next to Lester on her butt, her pigtails rustling.
"And stay out," the waiter called.
The door slammed and they were alone in the night.
"Well," Lugosi said blearily, "so much for a nice night out."
They all looked at each other.
Then erupted into the mad, drunken laughter of people who'd seen Death himself...and spit in his face.
When Lamis puked, though, it wasn't so funny anymore.