Here is a snarky little piece inspired by some equally oddball ladies over at my Lost Boys forum (see my profile for details). Yeah. This is the kind of random stuff we think up. And just a note, don't forget to take my poll in my profile!
The pounding soles of well-worn boots echoed through the cave as footstep after footstep slammed into the stones of the entryway and down into the lobby. All three boys looked up nonchalantly as David thundered into the room, boiling rage emanating from his very pores. None of the boys batted an eye at David's wayward appearance and instead carried on with their tasks at hand: Marko fiddling with his Rubik's cube, Dwayne reading a battered copy of Catcher in the Rye and Paul picking seeds from his stash in preparation to roll the dried leaves into a tightly wrapped joint.
David continued to stomp as he made his way to his vampire brothers, a growl rumbling in his throat with a snarl staring to trickle out.
"Which one of you assholes did it?" His voice was rasping and his growl had become evident in his speech, flowing over his tensed jaw and seeping out of his clenched teeth.
"Did what?" Dwayne asked without a care in the world, not even bothering to look up from his book.
"Did what?" David repeated, his voice raising an octave. "Did what?" His voice culminated at a manly squeak. "My hair salve didn't replace itself, fuckheads! Who did it?"
"Hair salve?" Paul chimed in, not daring to take his eyes off of his cannabis creation. "Dude, that's so gay."
"Gel dries out my hair," David replied through still clenched teeth as his body tensed further. "Why the hell am I explaining myself? Answer me, dammit!"
"Could have been any one of us," Marko said, still trying to finagle the colored squares.
"Thank you, you elfin pygmy. Want to give me something I can work with here?"
Marko was the first to look up since David's initial entrance but he kept his cool in his response. "Hey man, just because your hair fell out doesn't mean you can take it out on me. You can't prove I did it."
Indeed David's hair had fallen out albeit not in the most even of patterns. His forehead seemed to go on for miles, the open expanse of his crown reflecting the flames from the oil barrel fires. The bare looked to taper off where the spike flattened. Rickshaw patches of hair of various lengths stuck out at all angles, some broken strands clinging for dear life to their brethren that were still attached. Tufts of hair poked straight out at his ears and detached strands littered his shoulders, a follicle graveyard. David's perfectly coifed do now more closely resembled that of a wino monk's after he'd stuck his head in a fire instead of a rebellious motorcycle punk.
Dwayne looked up from his book and frowned. "You allergic to Nair or something, man? Those blisters don't look too nice."
David ran a hand over his puckered scalp and winced at the sears still there. "That shit burns! It's like rubbing acid on your head!"
Bits of red could be seen scattered amongst the remaining platinum blonde and became even more evident the barer the terrain became. The entire top of his head looked more like the surface of Mars than anything close to resembling skin. What was even more interesting, though, was that those same blisters sat just above David's eyes, where his eyebrows should have been. All three boys noticed this and the same look of perplexed confusion flit across their faces simultaneously. Of course, Paul was the one to open his mouth first.
"Dude . . . do you gel your eyebrows too?"
"I . . . shut up! What the hell do you care?"
"I don't care about your gay grooming techniques."
"That's it, Bon Jovi. I'm switching your hair spray with lighter fluid and Raid. Smoke that one, stoner."
"Shit, David. Maybe you should smoke some of his pot. God, calm down, man. You're a vampire, remember? It'll grow back by tomorrow," Dwayne broke into David's tantrum as cool as ever.
"Oh . . . go get tans," David remarked childishly as he sulked away from his brothers and towards the back of the cave, his foot stomps echoing back to them.
"You think we should tell him we were going to use hemorrhoid cream?" Marko asked.
"Ha ha! I could have called him asshead!" Paul joked in.
"You call him asshead anyway," Marko returned.
"But at least then I would of had a reason!"
"How do you think he realized it?" Marko asked Dwayne. "That stuff doesn't work instantly."
Dwayne shrugged his shoulders. "Probably on the ride into town. When he realized the draft on his head was colder than normal, not to mention the trail of hair leading Hansel back here on top of the creeping burning and blistering, I'm sure he knew something was wrong. Or he was too busy looking smug to connect the dots until some bikini babe pointed out his badass do and how 'smug' and 'balding' don't fit in the same sentence. Either or."
Paul put the finishing licks on his joint before looking up at Dwayne and Marko. "So does this mean I can't piss in his wine bottle?"
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