"You're late." the fantastically terrifying man that ruled over me gulped down a mouthful of liquor. Well, he wasn't quite as much of a man as he was a man-shaped booze container. I glanced at Squalo, hoping he would answer the statement before I had to. I was obviously very busy shoveling dinner rolls into my mouth and swallowing whole pats of butter and we all know Xanxus doesn't like being talked to when the other person has their mouthful. Sharkie glared back at me, probably thinking about how much of a pig I was or how much the world had changed since he'd been born and how sour he was about that. I would have said something to defend myself of that lie, but I was far too busy sawing a steak in half so I could start feeling like even more of a caveman.
There was nothing wrong with being hungry after three days of reasonable meals. Eating pudding out of cup instead of a bowl, being allowed to only fill one plate, only having a slice of pizza instead of seven, those mental hospital bastards were trying to starve me to death. Just thinking about it inspired me to start tearing into a bowl of fruit salad. The mohawk bearing, little-Filipino-boy-adoring Lussuria slammed a perfectly manicured fist into my arm. I made a graceful plunge down onto the meticulously chosen red carpeting of the Varia dining room. Xanxus had chosen this certain shade of scarlet due to its ability to match the stains he made during his red wine pass outs.
"Manners matter~!" Lussuria chimed, grabbing my arms and hauling me back into my chair. And as it happened I was just in time to see that Xanxus had taken it upon himself to throw a wineglass at me. Thank little baby Jesus in all his sweet cherub glory it was empty. The trick with knowing how furious our boss is, how much booze he wastes to punish you. If the containers empty, you're have to keep your guard up, a quarter full, get out of the city, half full, get out of the fucking country, full, just end your life and save yourself the trouble.
Alcoholics are fun, huh? Especially extremely dangerous and sociopathic alcoholics! They have no regrets when they drink so much they can't wake up until five at night three days later. He's done that before, I drew a mustache on him. Squalo washed it off because he's a crabby old man who cares way too much about his hair and hates me for being a youthful whippersnapper. I bet you he hates guitar solos and rock music too. That's probably why he never let me listen to any when I was a kid. Probably why he's so old and disgusting, too. Everyone knows three well-done guitar solos add a year to your lifespan. Rock music does equal life.
"I hope you get AIDS..." I groused under my breath. Lussuria watched a lot of Lifetime movies so he'd probably be around for a while, unfortunately. Meci's rules for a longer time on earth: Lifetime movies, infomercials, guitar solos, and pandas. And grapples, which are the secret to abso-fucking-lutely everything. I continued, quietly, snarfing down delicious substances while Squalo explained what had happened. I was expecting another glass to come flying at my youthful flesh, but Xanxus didn't destroy me with his booze rage.
That was concerning. I really shouldn't have wasted the rest of my money buying us new plane tickets. I should have used it to buy myself some body armor or at least a riot shield. But no, I had to go be a nice person and save Squalo's ass. Even after endangering his ass in the first place. However, Meci doesn't give a flying fuck about her legal guardian. No sir! All my fucks are flown straight to Bengay, Belphegor, grape apples, and mechanical mechanisms. Anything else can suck my metaphorical dick. Especially Squalo.
"In my office immediately." Xanxus sneered. I peeked up from my furious eating spree, the remaining half of my steak hanging from between my teeth. He was pointing at me. This meant I was officially, undoubtably, unquestionably, fantastically fucked. I stood from my seat, forcing the rest of my food into my mouth, and went on my way. After grabbing the rest of the dinner rolls, stealing the remainder of the butter, and slipping all of Squalo's food into my bread basket, of course. I was shot many an angry look, but none as seething as Sharkie's.
All his sneers probably require a lot of Bengay, your cheeks would be aching up a storm if you looked vicious half the amount of time he does. His worry lines are going to destroy Tokyo at one point. So many people will be killed beneath his wrinkly flesh, so many innocent Japanese business men slaughtered by a single set of wrinkles. I wonder if Japan is any fun. Not really because I care about Japan in any way shape or form and not because I plan on conquering Japan with a giant robot, but because I'm trying not to realize I'm about to be shot in the throat. And so I focused on cruel stereotypes and wondering if Godzilla was an actual thing.
I made it into The Lair of Xanxus just in time to slay a dragon and save the princess fair. But, in reality, I just sort of slumped into his office, which was more of a bar than an actual place of work, and spat into the many bottles of liquor he kept at the ready around him. And, as everyone called into the man's office was required to do, I poured him a drink before going back to stuffing myself and poking around the room.
There was a mirror placed behind his desk, an extremely organized one by the way, so anyone being killed in front of got to watch themselves die, the sides of the room were covered by collections of every alcohol currently in existence, and the floor was the same red carpet as the dining room, also for the purpose of protecting against embarrassing red wine pass out stains. There were two doors on the sides that lead to large groups of his favorite boozes and a little trap door beneath the carpet in the corner that opened to a panic room. All in all, there was nothing exciting for me to play with or break and later apologize for. So I sat down in the seat in front of his desk and finished off my insane chow down session. For me, incoherent gluttony equals life.
And I stay skinny through it all because I have some crazy disorder that kicks ass! If I don't eat like a fucking madman, I die. But that's okay because I don't ever grow into being the whale I should be. Even though, despite eating the way I do, I still look unhealthily thin and am constantly teetering on the edge of death. But that's the fun! Of course, all of this thought is being brought on by some crazy whim and not the mirror making me study myself meticulously. Because coherence and rational thought equal pain and misfortune in the world of Meci. Side note: that's pronounced Me-chi, not Me-si or Me-key, just to clear up any misconceptions, Mitch.
And now we can continue discussing my appearances, as I'm sure you're just as curious as I am. Honestly, I thought something happened during my asylum stay and that my constant grapple thoughts turned me purple or green or into some sort of oompa loompa. Don't judge, these are crazy times. But never mind that, onward my word steed! Charge into wrathful fictitious battle! As it turns out, I'm exactly the same. I've still got green eyes, I've still got insanely curly red hair, and I still have freckles. I'm still a soulless ginger. Thank the baby Jesus in his plush, cashmere diapers I'm not purple! Baby Jesus be praised! At one point, I will become a black preacher and inspire hundreds to testify. But really I've never been religious; I just love saying baby Jesus.
An hour passed of me just twiddling my thumbs and thinking about baby Jesus. I was beginning to get seriously bored. If only there was a window I could jump out of to make things more exciting. Or at least a few gears to dick around with. I'm good at making things! It's my only talent. Well, that and home wrecking. And I don't mean wrecking balls. I mean affairs, scandals, and the general destroying of families. At about five my parents started sending me on reconnaissance missions.
All in all, I'd say I ruined about two hundred marriages, a hundred and seventy engagements, got thirty children sent to military school, and ended up causing about a hundred murders. Those were the golden days of Meci, spent home wrecking and spying. I refuse to be at a level other than Abe Lincoln honesty right here, I make a great spy. I have spent so many hours crawling through bushes with cameras and sneaking into the backs of cars and just doing general creeping it's not even funny.
"You have a day to pack your things." Xanxus burst into the room and thrust a manila envelope at me. Now I was genuinely concerned. For a few seconds, reality had to come into play. I tore open the package like a kid on Christmas and pulled out the first thing I could. I'm pretty sure it was a plane. I'm pretty sure it was for Japan. And I'm also pretty sure my delightful dinner was wasted on the precious, red carpet.
It has been forever since I last updated this. And don't be all "It hasn't been that long" because you damn well know it has. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this wondrous chapter~ I made the paragraphs shorter in this because I know people bitch about all that... Leave reviews mofos! It's break for me so the more positive feedback the sooner I'll update. Thanks for reading!
~EXB