wham, bam, thank you, ma'am // chapter four
A lovely day it is. A lovely freaking day.
The birds are chirping, the sun is shining—and most importantly, NO KIDS. Yes, you heard me. Absolutely none. Life is like a bundle of puppies inside a basket…except, you know, minus the puppies. And the basket. Only to be replaced by strippers.
You're probably sitting there, thinkin', 'Oh, gee golly gosh!'—heh, like you're actually an innocent little pussy like THAT if you're reading this effed-up memoir that is my everyday life—'What in the world is the all-mighty GREED speaking of?' Oh, I'll tell you. I'll tell you until your brain collapses onto itself thanks to the pure greatness of it all.
So it was dawn (cue flashback music)…"Yo, Greed!" Martel hisses. "Get up! It's one in the afternoon!" (Yeah, so it wasn't dawn—it was like, noon or whatever. But it's dawn because I say so. Shut up.)
I groan and moan and bitch and stuff, but I'm on my feet. The floor isn't really comfortable. And from the taste of my mouth, something other than booze was gracing my lips before I pranced off to dreamland. That something probably being a cockroach.
But then I notice something—something very strange…And like, unusual. And out of the ordinary. And stuff: it's quiet. So then, I realize something is freaking up.
"…Where are those lovechildren of mine?" I ask.
Well, not only was it quiet, but the room lacked its usual…murky, ass-y smell. That kind of contributed to my little deduction.
"That's what we're here about," Loa said. "We kinda saw them leave a second ago."
"…"
FUCK.
I mean, it's not like I cared or something…well, yeah. I did care that the punks were gone. Which, in itself, just added to the suspense of the situation. But beggars can't be choosers, right? I wanted some time alone. And, cripes, that's exactly whatever the god I worship laid down in front of my polished shoes.
But, dammit, they sure were good ploys to get chicks to talk to me. Not that they didn't—the kids just acted like a dog would in any other normal society (you know, when you're walking in the park with a little mutt?).
Anyway…
So I take myself a big breath. "Really? Splendid. Splend-freaking-did."
"Don't you even CARE that your own flesh and blood are walking around in the slums?" Martel preaches. "Something could happen…like adultery—!!" Martel? Telling ME about adultery? HAH. "People here are very horny, Greed. Very. They may even choose to resort to underage kids with half-assed fathers to fulfill their dark desires.
"Well, what do ya know?" I scratch my pits. "If they choose Remington and the other two, those little pedos know where it's at."
"…Greed, I'm serious. Who knows what could happen to them?"
And for a brief moment, I imagine what could happen to them—actually, it was more like a fantasy. I hoped it involved something painful like a car. Or a kick to the crotch. But I all decide that I might as well look for them, seeing how I had nothing better to do. Why, yes—yes I am a freaking saint.
I get off my ass and the adventure begins—!!
-------------------------------
"Well, have you seen them?"
"Who?"
"Uh, my kids."
"…WHO?"
"My kids."
"Oh, I can't knit today—I already promised Martha May a scarf, young whipper-snapper…"
"Look, hag—HAVE YOU OR HAVE YOU NOT SEEN MY CHILDREN? Or am I going to have to shove those freakin' stick things up your WRINKLY, SHAGGY ass—?!!"
"Could you repeat that, Darlin'?"
So I'm inhaling and exhalin', and Martel's just patting me on the shoulder. Like hell old people would know where three kids were, let alone their Goddamn hands. Which doesn't even really make any sense. But whatever.
As the granny skips away (I secretly hope a hip or something snaps), I light a cig and take a swig. I don't know how we ended up in the middle of town so quick, but it didn't really matter all that much. "This is pretty gay."
"If you keep on complaining, you'll lose hope too quickly," Martel says.
"Do me a favor and cut the fortune cookie talk. And speaking of things that are totally irrelevant, where the hell are the sidekicks to my sidekick, Dorchet and Loa?"
"Uhhh…gone? I don't know."
I snicker. "They're on a date, eh? My gaydar went totally haywire when I first met those two. Honestly. As much as it did when I met lovely little En-En." I flick the burned-out cigerette onto the ground. "Not that I'm not having a blast or anything, but I seriously want this the hell over with."
"Greed!! Don't you even care about Remcunting, Whore, and Cabby?"
Now, then, I'm not thinking, 'Oh, she totally slaughtered my kids' names,' but, 'Wow, what delicious nicknames.' I guess I'm simple-minded. But that single sentence from her didn't really sound like Martel—no, not at all. The vocabulary sounded almost…strange. And not strange by MY standards, per se, but by the standards of any other regular person. The vocabulary was pine-scented, dipped in lubrication, and queer by all means possible.
And THIS, my friends, is when my magnificent day comes to a roadblock.
"Oh, shitty-kins—you're Envy, aren't you?"
Martel smirks and then transforms to the hideous abstract painting that is Envy the homunculi. I raise an eyebrow because hell, I'm always right, and I should've smelt the rotting beef from a mile away. Envy is the type to know when to cut the act and just kick ass. But, of course, he sucks, and no form of ass kicking is really ever performed by him. Loser.
"Hey there, Greed," he purrs.
"And what brings you here, my androgynous friend?"
"Lust informed me of your filthy little human children, and I'm sure you know the rest."
"What, you sprayed perfume in their faces and made them wear skirts or whatever?"
Envy paused. "Well, yeah, a little, but I totally kidnapped them after that. They're hid somewhere and I'm not letting you have them 'til you do US a favor."
"'Us'?"
And then poof! There's literally smoke everywhere and then I see two familiar figures—an HOTASS hourglass, and like…a blob or some sort. And then the fog clears up and there's Lust and Gluttony standing there, looking sexy.
"Us, of course," Lust says.
I lift my sunglasses and I can't help but smile. "Oh-oh-oh—if I knew YOU were coming, I would've dressed up…"
She immediately lifted her hand and extended those fingernails of hers. "Say another word, and I castrate you."
Lust reads me like a book! I love a woman who can be dominant—!!
"As Envy was saying," she continues, "we need your services. There's a cockroach around interfering with our duties that needs to be squished as soon as possible. So you're going to help us." She walks up a little for dramatic effect; Gluttony lugs behind her, suckling his hugeass fingers. "And if you refuse, those children of yours will pay the price."
I stroke my chin. "And what happens if I don't?"
"…I just told you. If you don't, I will personally murder your children. Understood? And while I'm at it, why not the woman who conceived them, too?" She purses those perfect, dark lips.
For a second, I pause. It was like, a win-win situation, really—if I did it (meaning help them), then well, I get to kill someone and that just adds to my street cred. If I didn't, I get to know the identity of slut-muffin who I graced with my seed. So I think and I think and I think, think, think, and I agree to help them. Why? It makes for a good story.
So Lust smirks and Envy sneers and Gluttony drools. And me? I know that I'm in for one hell of a time.
A/N: Hi, everyone! Sorry for putting this off for awhile. This fic is so much fun to write. :D And I have a question: Should I change the rating for this story from T to M? The language isn't exactly T, and neither are a few of the themes. I just don't want this story to get deleted like many of my other ones, and reposting it would be pretty lame. Input would be absolutely lovely, and happy holidays!