Most everybody deals, has ways. Well Jude, she had her own way of dealing with things. What was that, you ask?
She blows shit up.
Literally, not figuratively.
Pop cans, blow driers, her calculus textbook, my calculus book, cucumbers and other vegetables, her ex's belongings post-breakup. Anything.
So, when I found out Iggy was a super Nazi pyro, I almost ran home and made up some strange story of a life-threatening case of Mad Cow Disease going around New York. Jude hates cows.
They were inseparable.
"You've got to be kidding me." I said when Fang told me this deadly piece of information.
"What?"
"Jude. Iggy. The Star Wars, blowing things up, everything. I bet he hates cows too. . ." I scoffed.
"He actually. . .he hates cows." he said in unprocessed defeat.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
Then I noticed Fang could be to me what Iggy could be to Jude.
That could either be really bad, or immensely good.
Sometimes-most of the time-the world just hates me. Others, it amazes me greatly with its super-crazy-insane coincidences and timings.
I smiled mischievously.
"I'm going home. Come with me. Bring Iggy." I instructed.
"Why Iggy?" he asked simply.
You'll see.
…
Another thing about Jude; she doesn't take relationships very slowly. So, I wasn't really surprised when I came home to find them making out on my couch.
I ignored it and continued to walk to walk silently to the kitchen, content on making coffee.
"Do you guys want coffee?" I hardly yelled, apparently startling them.
They jumped apart, Iggy almost falling off the couch, just as Fang walked in from parking the motorcycle. He walked by Jude laying on top of Iggy awkwardly, ever so nonchalantly.
"Well. . .hello Maximum. Fangly." Jude said, getting off of Iggy.
Fang chuckled and sat on the bar stool across from me. I gave him his coffee and took a sip of my own.
"Coffee?" I asked Iggy.
"No thanks." he said inwardly.
The room was barely awkward. Iggy cleared his throat, "Uh, sorry about that. . ."
I just laughed.
I pressed the button on a small remote and the slight awkwardness was covered up with Cake.
…
George Harrison has always been my favourite Beatle, not Paul or John or Ringo. Pssh. Sure they wrote the most famous of the works, like, 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand', and 'All You Need is Love', but Georgie's 'Something', now that's a freaking love song.
"Yeah right." Fang said when I told him this.
"Don't deny the fact that it's just true." I said, half sarcastic.
"Except for not. George had to be the least important member of the band."
"I'll pretend I never heard that idiocy."
We finally disagreed on something. Success.
"Just ignore the truth. . ." he wondered off.
I smirked at him, "Speaking of idiocy, Jude's band's playing at some bar on ninety second and Mania. They're horrible. Wanna go?" I said passively and emotionless.
A smile played on his lips, "When?"
"Tomorrow, ten thirty. Beaumont."
"Yeah. I can make it." …