Last time, on Dragonball Z!
…Er, sorry, on The Pharaoh's Corrupting Our Schools. (The person who said Dragonball Z has been sacked.)
He looked at me w/ his wīd, chocolate I's. And then he did something that made me cringe.
(Irregularly placed author's note: Does everybody hate school as much as me? Good. I'm glad to know I'm not a freak.)
Chapter Thirty-frickin'-one!
Ryou! Finally Chibified
OR
Guess Who's Really a Polar Bear! (Go on. Guess.)
Cry? Naw! The sucker VOMITED on me! DANG… But… I sorted it all out.
In 3rd person view
Ryou beat his tiny fists against a door. On the other side of the door, red tape was plastered to the door as if Ryou were trying to keep out the monster-things in that scary movie the author didn't go see but wanted to. Anyway, someone had written across the tape, in black sharpie:
WARNING! Tot ahead. (I don't mean a tater.)
Back in the delicate mind of Bakura…
So… I have all the time in the world to write now, so I don't have to abbreviate things, even though that is easier. But yeah…
So I covered the vomit up with a towel, so I won't step in it, and I locked Ryou in his room for awhile… what's the worst he could do to himself?
A quick peek back to Ryou, in 3rd person view
The small toddler Ryou looked around the room. And he found… a gluestick! Yes, left over from some homework assignment long since turned in, was an Elmer's gluestick, the small cow on the label just peering at him… inviting him… beckoning him to do some kind of gag with the gluestick… "Come play with Elmer, little boy…" it seemed to be saying. Really creepy stuff.
And Ryou's tiny mind thought, "Is that lipstick?
… n.n I want to be purty!"
Oh dear.
Back in Bakura's mind!
…My spider senses are tingling… my host is about to do something stupid. (This sense tingles often.) I better go see what's up.
So, I walk down the hallway, wondering… why don't we listen to more British music? Does my host not like Imogen Heap? Is he offended by Lily Allen? It seems to me, we're on all fours,/Crawling on our knees,/Someone help us please. She has GOOD songs!
So, I rip off the tape with suspicious ease, and open Ryou's door. And blink. And here's what I think he'd be saying: Oh Jesus Christ almighty,/Do I feel alright? No not slightly,/I wanna get a flat I know I can't afford it,/It's just the bureaucrats who won't give me a mortgage. Or something like that.
He doesn't look like he feels alright; actually, he's glued his lips together. That doesn't really look healthy. And his eyes are wet, and his legs are wobbly. The lyrics that he actually looks like he want to say, from H.I.M., are: Hold me/Like you held on to life/When all fears came alive and entombed me/Love me/Like you love the sun/Scorching the blood in my vampire heart. Ok, enough lyrics that don't really fit, and that Sour Schuyler doesn't own, but loves. (Who's Sour Schuyler? Why did that name just pop into my head…?)
Anyway, that last paragraph wasn't meant to be gay. Especially since Ryou is now, like, 4 years old. Anyway, I was kind of planning to use Ryou to impress Megan… Chicks dig little kids, right? Anyway, it probably won't work if my "little brother's" mouth is glued shut.
TO THE HOSPITAL!
At the hospital:
"Are you sure you don't want to come inside with your younger brother?" a doctor asks. I nod vehemently. "He's very upset." I tell the doctor he'll be okay. I'm stretched out in the "Sick" waiting room, which is sick, dude. Anyway, I'm sprawled across several tiny children, using their heads as head rests, their arms as armrests, their shins as… things to kick. Surrounding me are several other children, doing my various biddings.
Tiny Ryou is crying as they drag him inside. Pansy. …I wonder how they're going to fix this, anyway? Cut his mouth open? That could hurt, though, wouldn't it? Maybe they could turn him into the Sorting Hat for the operation, cut his mouth open, and then turn him back into Ryou. …Which leads me to an important question… Does the Sorting Hat feel pain? And should I become a pirate? I did already copy those DVDs illegally. Arr. …I wonder if Megan would think this chibi Ryou cuter if he had a peg leg. Hmmm… Anyhoo, I gotta figure out how to get around this whole "mystery child" thing. I couldn't really present any birth certificate or anything at the counter, so I just shouted, "THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! MY LITTLE BROTHER'S DYING!" in Ryou's voice and did the Lower Lip Quiver™. Luckily the person behind the counter was a girl; she swooned at my manly rendition of pansyasshood (the new word of the day) and swore that my little brother would be okay. But now I have to fill out forms and stuff. Well, I would have to fill them out, if I hadn't set them on fire…
"Uh, excuse me?" I look up. It's the same girl. "Um… do you have the forms…?"
I scratch my head, trying to look puzzled, hoping she'll ignore the fact I have small children propping me up and a tiny kindling of dying paper behind me. "Oh, those… They spontaneously combusted."
She tilts her head, taking in the scene before her. "Uhm… sir… you're not supposed to turn the waiting room into your own personal fiefdom."
"This isn't a fiefdom," I tell her. "It's a thiefdom." As I speak, one of my tiny apprentices steals her gold bracelet.
She gives me a look that says she clearly doesn't know what to do with me. "Ok… Um… I'll get you some new forms," she says, but just then, tiny Ryou emerges from behind a door, picking his nose and looking happy.
He opens his mouth and smiles at me. He looks like he chewed his lips off. You know when you chew your lip, and your lips get all soft and painful to chew on? He's got those kind now.
Anyway, this means that I can ignore this girl. "Come on, uh… Enrique," I say, and I grab his tiny hand and shove him out of the doctor's office.
"Hey!!" that girl shouts, running after me, her really long, crimped blonde getting caught on a chair. "Owch!"
We're out, Jim Bob! We stride away, and I cease with the hand holding. But Ryou starts to wander away… Crap. I need the leash. Until then, I'll just carry him in this burlap sack I just happen to have on my person for perfectly legitimate reasons.
Later!
Aww, look at the wittle chibi. Gasping like the burlap sack had no air in it, and sweating like it was too warm in there. Awww… And now, the leash.
Snap. Yes, that is the sound of my fastening the leash around the nice little collar I bought with Kaiba the Freakish. And by bought, I do mean stole.
Chibi Ryou looks up at me. "Go somewhere?" he asks. I blink.
"Uh…" is my intelligent answer. But he looks happy with it. He reaches up with one hand and tugs on his leash, effectively choking himself.
"O.O" Oh my, his face is turning purple… Awesome.
"Go somewhere!" he squeaks, and he blows a raspberry at me. Cute?
He burps. Ehh… Not so cute. But whatev's.
A scream of delight suddenly bursts out of his tiny mouth. "Daddy!" he cries.
Oh, no, no, no. "I'm about as much your father is Harry Potter is from Thailand," I say, which makes little Ryou start begging for Peanut/Satay sauce. Even as a tyke, my landlord's a freak. But I expected that.
"Can Ruru eat peanut sauce wid us?" Ryou asks, with as much politeness as he can muster.
"Ru-ru?" I repeat, confused. Maybe I've been Confunded. Guess Hermoine doesn't want me to play Quidditch for Gryffindor. Darn that Ronald Weasley… filthy blood traitor…
Ryou bobs up and down on the balls (heh) of his feet. "Nooooo… Ryou!" he says firmly.
"You're right there," I say. He blinks, then gives me a curious look.
"No, not me… Ryou!" He glares at me, stamping his tiny feet and snorting impatiently.
"No, no, let me describe Ryou," I say. "He's a pale albino freak of a boy without a freckle to his name. He lives alone, because his father hasn't loved him since I came into his life. And NO, we're not gay," I assert. Chibi Ryou looks at me with bewilderment. "Let's see… Single; No magical properties; born September 2."
"That's my birthday!" the kid says gleefully. "But you're wrong."
"Am I?"
"Yes. Ryou is a polar bear," Ryou says matter-of-factly.
Pause.
"Really," I reply stiffly. Chibi nods vigorously.
"Uh-huh."
"Can I, er, meet him?"
More nodding. "He's in attic… Help up?" he asks, covering half his face with his hand, and then he gazes up at me bashfully with his large, dark eyes, which, even back in his toddler times, are freakin'… eh… you know.
"Sure," I laugh, utterly unimpressed at how his speaking skills have retrogressed.
"A tick!" he laughs, clapping his hands. "A-tick! Atikk! Atticus! Tikkis! Kissy! Curtsy! Burpsy!" And then he burps, the taste flying into my open mouth as I hoist the chibi on my shoulders. GAH! Heavy! Oh, and ew.
"Some pillows in the Dordogne region of France are heavy," Ryou admits in a whisper. (A/N: This is true.) Damn, was I speaking out loud again?
"Curse word!" Ryou shouts, clapping his hands over his ears. "CURSE WORD!"
"Shut up!" I shout; he whimpers. I stand there, stunned.
When was the last time I could make Ryou whimper? I can't remember, it was so long ago… now he just grounds me.
"Hey kid," I growl, "I'm the boogeyman."
Ryou giggles. "Oogie Boogie?" he says hopefully.
"From Nightmare Before Christmas?" I ask, trying to sound casual, as if Oogie Boogie wasn't my hero. Ryou nods.
"…Worse," I snarl. He smiles. Weirdo.
We ascend the stairs and then reach for and then pull on the thin, white cord to pull down the latter to ascend to reach the burpy. I mean attic. …Did any of that make sense?
"Let's get this straight, kid," I say as we climb up. He's picking his nose again. "Let's get this straight: I am your elder brother, uh… Akiffa Bakura! But you," I add hastily, "shall call me Bakura. That you're calling me by your last name is not strange at all."
Ryou nods thoughtfully. " 'Kura," he repeats. Well… that's better than Kiffy.
"You are not Ryou," I say. He nods as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "And you are to go under the alias of 'Enrique Bakura,' comprende?" More nodding. "I repeat: You are NOT—"
"Ryou!" Chibi Ryou reaches his hand out towards a ginormous stuffed polar bear toy. It's hand (paw?) is outstretched, as if to take this little boy's. A ribbon's been tied with a flourish (a flourish I say!) around its neck, and on it, somebody has indeed written the single kanji making up Ryou's first name, twice; in between them is his name written in big, white, blocky roman letters.
"Wio," Ryou says, hugging the bear like it was his father. Was this Ryou's first imaginary friend, or something? Why did he name it after himself? Loser.
So we bring "Ryou" down. Ryou thinks "Ryou" is a hoot. Suddenly his (real Ryou's) tiny tummy grumbles. …Oh, right. Kids eat. …Or do they? Do kids eat, too? I don't remember doing anything but being excellent when I was his age; I was pretty sure toddlers didn't need to eat until a magical pillow tried to bite off their nose, and it could only be warded away by full stomachs. Isn't that why people normally eat? No? I wonder how I came up with that.
"Ryou?" I call. Ryou picks up "Ryou" and holds "Ryou" in front of him, eclipsing his scrawny toddler body. He (Ryou) tilts the bear's head back so that two large, black marbles are giving me a quizzical look.
"Wes?" he says, moving the bear's head as if it were talking.
"Uh… Are you hungry?"
The great bear shakes its head no. "But I am!" the real Ryou says, stepping away from the polar bear. "Food pweez?"
" 'Eez?' Since when were you trying to sound French?" I demand.
"There are over 12 types of French cow," Ryou whispers. (A/N: This is also true.)
"Actually, I know that; and all of them are dangerous, Enrique, let me tell you," I reply. I wish Oogie Boogie, leader of the rebellion AGAINST the cows, were here. Hey… maybe he'll babysit the Chibi!
If only I had his number…
I begin to take out pancake batter, my mind filled with the fantasy of Oogie Boogie marrying me to Megan.
Finally, I am finished with the pancakes; Ryou pours peanut sauce all over them. Freak.
…I hear rapping at our door? o.o Only this, and nothing more. …Oh, no, now they've wrung the doorbell. …I mean, rung the doorbell. (Either way, the doorbell gets hurt. Don't you kind of feel sorry for the doorbell, Jim Bob? …What do you mean, you have it worse? EXPLAIN! …Fine then, I won't tell you what happens next.)
Later!
I have to tell you what just happened:D
Guess who it was? Go on… guess.
…
…
…
…
I said guess damn you!
…
…
There's still time to guess…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
Ok, it was Strings. :D And guess what he said?
He said (said being the significant word, since, after all… mimes usually don't talk, except in that one car commercial): I want my money.
"I want my money," he said in a squeaky voice. A creepy squeaky voice. Like a hyper midget after sucking helium.
"What money?" I said, irritated.
"That other of yours promised me money after the first sunflower harvest," Strings said.
"Well, it turns out we need the money," I said coolly. "We have a child to raise."
"You don't have a child to raise," he squeaked. That's when I remember what I told Fred/Mako several chapters ago.
"The person who promised you money was my ex-wife," I explain. He gives me a dubious look. "We have a child! Come on in and meet him."
Just then, Ryou came running to the door with "Ryou" in his arms. This made it look as if the stuffed polar bear was running to us on tiny toddler legs.
"Hi!! I'm a unique kid!!" he told the mime proudly. The mime gave me a quizzical look.
"Doesn't he look just like his mother?" I said wryly. Strings nods slowly.
Unfortunately, Ryou took that exact time to actually listen to what I'd said earlier. "'Kura," he said, "I'm done with my pancakes."
Strings raised a pierced brow. "Your son calls you by your last name?" he asked in his ethereally squeaky voice.
"Yes," I said. "It teaches him to be tough, the same way abandoning your child in the woods does – with lots of emotional scarring."
"………" Strings took out a sign and starting writing on it with a permanent marker he pulled out of his sleeve. O.o Literally seconds later, he turns the sign towards me and smacks me with it.
Liar!!!!!!! the sign read. I shoved him away and slammed the door in his face smugly. I was totally unafraid… as I locked every window and door on the first and second floors, and made it so that the attic door can't be opened from the inside. I won't explain how I did that last one; it was a complicated maneuver. Ryou, meanwhile, while I slaved, jammed out to t.A.T.u. songs in the living room, singing along in seemingly flawless Russian. O.o;;
"No, I was just making up words and singing them to the tune," he explains. "It sounded pretty good, huh?" He smiles goofily up at me. And that's when I got tired of him talking and decided to chibify him further. Just a smidge.
"Let's play prisoner," I said. In the back of my head I could hear the regional manager of a small paper company in Pennsylvania say "Ooh, kinky."
"Can Ryou play too?"
"Sure."
"How do we play?"
"First, I blindfold you, then pretend to execute you by shooting you with this water gun," I said.
"Yaaay!" Ryou said, overlooking all the morbidity of the game. "Someone's playing a game with me!"
Oh yeah. I forgot he was a lonely kid.
So, as Ryou clumsily blindfolded himself, I charged up the Chibifier and set the settings to chibify "a smidge." (That's the real setting.)
"Ok, turn around and say your final words," I said. "Make them dramatic."
Ryou raised a tiny fist. "BERNARD IS KING!" he yelled.
"Nice, but you're name is Enrique," I said. Then I said, "Bang." Purple particles pulverized Ryou's head, pushing his body down, making him smaller. Finally he looks to be about 4 years old—which was his shy age. So this will work.
Ryou opened his mouth. "… 'Awwn," he yawned. Then he sleepily climbed up on the couch and collapsed against a pillow, falling fast asleep. Yes, this Ryou is definitely more well behaved.
So, that's what happened. Now what to do with him? Should I parade him over and present him to Megan right away? Hm… Choices, choices.
Well… I dunno… I mean, I could just sit tight right here, and watch TV… Maybe even The Office. That's a good show. And look! Ryou just happens to have the season set! It's time to watch Dwight relate everything to Star Wars and beet farming.
A few minutes later…
Filthy Ryou bought the BRITISH version!!! NOT the AMERICAN!! GARETH IS NOT AS FUNNY AS DWIGHT! JIM IS BETTER THAN TIM! I need to make a T-Shirt: Jim not Tim. Later we're going to have to have a fight like those people on Youtube who argue vociferously over which version is better like it really matters. Well it doesn't. …I just want to pick on Ryou.
"Bugger," I say, poking the sleeping child in the chest. He lets out a squeal in his sleep, then goes back to his "little, soft snores." Not. He goes back to sounding like a freight train with a bad cold. I'm about to kick him in the side when I remember that I have to show him to Megan. I don't think she'll be too impressed if he's cowering in fear while I hold his leash. I guess I'll… crap. I guess I have to be nice to him.
So that means… I can't wake him up. -.-# (Do you like the sweat drop that number sign represents, Jim Bob?) I guess I have to find something else to do. That kinda sucks.
I guess I'm going out, now, to search for an activity to occupy my time. I won't lock the door, so Ryou can get out if he wants. What, you may ask, am I doing to keep intruders out? Well, there's always the alligator pit. And besides, Ryou has the King of Thieves living at his house, he'll protect him if something happens, right?
Bakura seems to have forgotten that he IS the thief king… Anyway, if anyone watches the Office, sorry to bash the British version. ...Although I still think Jim is better than Tim. Anyone, sorry if the very end of this chapter isn't up to par; I thought I had this chapter already finished and then realized I didn't. Does it show a lot?
Review! Or… or… Strings will come and slap you with one of his heavy signs. And they'll say… I don't know, something insulting on them. I have English homework to do now. Am I the only one that thinks writing poems about yourself for English class is hard? And we have to include a picture of ourselves. A picture! I don't want a picture of me hanging up all year. I hate doing these type of assignments. Anyhoo.
Review!