Authors' Note: ENTER THE SIDESTORY xDD
Far, far, very far away from sea, an even more pissed off boy was trying to make a living - or so he told himself.
Young Tybalt's teeth hurt. He had spent the past hour chewing on hard and definitely stale bread, trying to eat it.
"Bloody bread!" He flung it over his shoulder, sulking.
"Now, now, good sir, be nice to the bread," a nearby monkey said- yes, you read that right. A nearby monkey just talked. And it was not just any monkey- it wore its little fancy monkey-vest and felt cap proudly as it scampered over and gently picked up the bread, storing the half-slice into its pockets. Which were already stuffed with similarly distasteful but nonetheless edible foodstuffs. "We can't afford to be picky in this time of need, young lad-"
"Dear sweet Goddess of Flying Spaghetti, will you stop speaking like that, Paris?" Tybalt scowled and flipped him the finger.
The Monkey frowned disapprovingly. "Bread is hard enough to come by."
"Oh, for the love of all the stupidity in Agrabakistan, stop sounding like those retarded stuck-up nobles with your stupid fancy accent! Go stick a-"
The contents of Tybalt's rant are not suitable for transcription. Suffice to say it ended with Tybalt stalking off into the distance and Paris sighing profusely as he nibbled on the bread.
Yes, my dear friends, our young Tybalt was no ordinary boy. He was a very poor boy. A very poor, very pissed off boy living off the things he stole from stuck-up, upper-class snobs in the grand old nation of Agrabakistan. And who possessed a Talking Monkey. (He stole that too.) Personally he reckoned that aforementioned Talking Monkey was much better off liberated from his old job as some lame performing pet primate - not that he would ever tell the Monkey that. Especially since he had been regretting that decision nearly every day for the past -uhh, he couldn't count- years. Stupid fancy monkey with the fancy words and the fancy-smancy advice and then-
In any case, he was going to have nothing to do with the stupid monkey now. No, nothing else. Severing all ties. Yes. This was totally not going to end in him shuffling back to save Paris' stupid monkey ass from getting into trouble for the millionth time.
Sulking, the young boy skulked off, eager to launch into his favourite pastime - making everyone else as pissed off as himself.
"AHHHHHHHHHH! GET IT OFF, OH SWEET FLYING SPAGHETTI, GET IT OFF!"
With a cackle of glee Tybalt watched as three gallons of sweet gravy mixed with dead rats, rotten watermelons and pigeon eggs descended upon the large procession of rich old men and women. The snobs, let's see them get their rich silks clean now!
Satisfaction still plastered all over his face, he darted away from the large house and snuck along the back alleys, weaving through the maze of rich mansions and villas circling the scenic but rare oasises of Agrabakistan, placing as much distance as possible between himself and the servants who were sure to come to investigate. Tybalt crouched and crept under a particularly low wall, where saplings could be seen over the edge waving slightly in the breeze. This particular house was better furnished- even from the outside- than usual, but that wasn't something he bothered with-
-A scream pierced the air, and it wasn't from the old stuck-ups he had left behind.
Tybalt jumped and turned to face the low wall, the scream having come from behind. Just what was going on-
"OH NO. NONONONO, YOU EVIL SHE-DEVIL, GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME-"
Tybalt wondered if he should call the police. Then he realized that one; the police would just arrest him instead. Two; this was rich-snob-neighborhood. They could go backstab each other for all he cared. He prepared to go, but the screaming continued.
"AHHH, NOOO! WHAT THE HELL MUST I DO TO- NO DON'T ANSWER, GET THE HELL OFF! AAHHH! NO NO NO NOT THAT RIDICULOUS COSTUME-"
Hm. Looks like he wasn't the only one hell bent on creating mischief and embarassing situations over here. Tybalt could only wonder what was going on behind, and as much as he wanted to he couldn't peek over the low wall to see what was going on- it would give him away.
"Aw, your Highness, you don't have to hide out here in your cousin's house - just come back and I can get the hair dye properly in-"
Waaaaait. Hair-dye?
"NONONO, NEVER EVER EVER EVERRRRR!"
A loud, very valuable sounding crash resounded.
"You scoun- I mean, your highness, get back here!"
Tybalt darted behind a tree as someone tripped over the threshold of the villa, rushing into the backyard. A rich snob indeed- the boy, about Tybalt's age, was dressed in rich silks with fine trimming that glinted in the harsh sunlight. His hair was clean and shiny, if not extremely messy, unlike Tybalt's which was matted with grime- but he had the desperate look of a street urchin caught stealing. So he knew fear. Tybalt approved.
The boy cast his gaze around frantically, letting out a breathless gasp before sprinting off in a random direction. As he turned away Tybalt noticed a blue-green streak in his hair- so whoever talked about the hair-dye was serious!
...but really, blue-green hair dye? Who in their right mind would ever use that kind of glaring ghastly color-
And then a most terrifying sight exited the backdoor - a richly dressed, fat old woman with the most frighteningly gay grin Tybalt had ever seen waddled out. Tybalt balked in shock, realizing exactly what kind of person would use blue-green hair dye on stuck-up and snobby but otherwise innocent children.
Now, Tybalt might be a bit - all right, very pissy with rich kids, but he was, deep down, quite the sap. Not that he would ever admit it, of course. In fact, no one is sure he himself is aware of this. But then again why else would he repeatedly go back to 'save' Paris even though most of the time Paris wasn't in much danger at all? Regardless, this should never be said to his face.
Taking one more look at the woman - oh, dear sweet Unicorn of Baseball Caps and All Blasphemous Things, that grin had to be the most terrifying thing on earth - Tybalt dashed after the kid who had disappeared down the alleyway, totally forgetting that the woman could see him.
"You! Urchin!"
Tybalt wheeled around, frozen with fear. He didn't often freeze up like this, but with all that he had witnessed, it was hard not to once you let your imagination wander about what the lady was capable off. The woman turned to face him, clothes billowing in the desert wind- Tybalt caught sight of something blue and grey draped over her arm. Is that...is that a dress?
"Don't flinch like that, boy! Stand up straight when you're talking to me!"
Tybalt jumped. He didn't have time for this, damnit- there was a kid to be saved from a horrible fate-
"Hands folded behind your back-"
"What the hell," Tybalt growled, turned and started to stalk off.
"Oi! You filthy urchin- gah, Mah-Cutie' can wait- you disrespect me, boy? Nevermind, I was looking for a victi- I mean, a helper to model something for me anyway-" The woman brandished the fabric, which was enough reason for Tybalt to speed up in a sprint for his life after the other boy.
"GET BACK HERE!"
No way in hell, Tybalt thought. Now where was that boy?
Darting into the alleyway, he glanced around, catching sight of the fresh footprints in the sand- kid needed to cover his tracks better. What Tybalt wouldn't give to have Paris around to help cover up the tracks- anyway. No time for that now. Cursing the other boy's stupidity under his breath, Tybalt dashed in that direction-
-to find the boy helplessly banging his fists against a wall, having come against a dead end.
Stupid rich kids. Did they not know how to climb a wall? Pft, probably not. Dumbass kid.
"Oi! Dumbass!"
The kid jumped, turning around. He relaxed upon catching sight of Tybalt, and then looked about in a dramatically exaggerated way. "Hmm, sorry man, don't see any, except for the one who just shouted."
Tybalt resisted the overwhelming urge to slap his forehead. Or better, the snob's annoying face- it would get the irritating smirk off at least. He took a deep breath to calm himself. In situations like this, the best response would be another witty comment back. Now, what to say...
"Oh, I forgot; you can't see yourself unless there's a mirror. Hmm, there's none! My bad. I shall be more specific, then. How about 'Dumbass dressed in fine clothes who just came running as if from the Devil himself and then smashed into a wall'? Would that be specific enough for your sub-par intelligence to comprehend?"
The rich kid scowled. "I did not smash into the wall- and, by the way, that "Devil" was a female. Is your eyesight that bad to the point in which you cannot tell a fat old woman in what is obviously a flappy lady's garment from a man?"
"Oh, hahaha, I'm so hurt," Tybalt shot back. "Really need to work harder, dumbass."
"Ahh, you're a masochist I see," the kid replied, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and grinning broadly.
"Not in that way, dammit! Not only are you stupid, turns out you're a -"
"I SEE YOU THERE, YOU TWO!"
The kid paled. Tybalt took one glance at the flapping atrocity behind him, and darted forward, grabbing the (protesting) kid's hand. He lunged towards the wall, quickly finding a foothold in the cracked brickwork, and hauled Dumbass Boy along as he scrambled over the top.
Damnit, Dumbass was heavy!
Tybalt let himself fall over the edge of the wall and landed gracefully on his feet in a half-crouch. Dumbass flailed and flopped over, crashing into the ground with a groan. Rolling his eyes, Tybalt didn't give him time to rest, immediately pulling Dumbass to his feet roughly and dashing off. On the other side of the wall, he could already hear the she-demon call for hellish reinforcements.
"Nh-no...st...stop...I can't...I can't...too...too tired..."
"Shut up Dumbass, I'm saving your life." Tybalt was reminded of Paris whom the line was most commonly directed at. He thought that the monkey would be please that Tybalt had found another target for his sarcasm and foul temper, but then he realized that he was supposed to have severed all ties with the chimp. Ah well. He kept running, barely stopping to think as he darted through crossroads and snuck past alleyways which he knew like the back of his (grubby) hand.
"...And then there's that awful clothing, which must mean you live with the Great Apple Pie of Unhealthy Complexes. Where are you taking me?" Dumbass whined. "I'm tired. Can we have some caramel apples? I like those. You like those? Nah, you probably like bittergourds, masochist that you are. Do you eat a lot? You're thinner than a bamboo stick. Wait, what the hell's a bamboo stick?"
"Oh, dear Sparrow of Chatterboxes and Shooting Stars, MAKE THE DUMBASS SHUT UP!" Tybalt yelled, flipping Dumbass over onto the ground. They were finally in the safe zone - aka the slums. The journey there was usually short, but with Dumbass rambling the whole way it seemed ten times longer. Growling, Tybalt jabbed an accusing finger at Dumbass. "You. SHUT UP! Why do you have to whine, whine, whine, WHINE?"
"Ow!" Dumbass whined. "That hurt, moron!" Was he actually pouting?
"I SAID STOP WHINING!"
Dumbass stuck out his tongue defiantly. "Whine whine whine whine whine! I want caramel apples! Whine whine! I want a feather bed and a rose water bath and whine whine whine! I want lots of things I can't be bothered to think of right now! Wait, I know what I want- I want Nurse Jafar to DIE FOREVER! She's the reason I got stuck with a gay masochist like you! It's almost as bad as being forced into a Hatsune Miku outfit!" Dumbass wailed, kicking the ground from his prone position.
"Gay. Masochist," Tybalt ground out through gritted teeth. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just leave you here."
"Because I'll go set your house on fire." Dumbass didn't even pause to think about his reply. Damn him. Damn them all rich snobs.
"...okay, now give me one good reason why I shouldn't drag you back to that demon-woman and her hair-dye and her weird costumes!"
"Because I'm the freaking prince of Agrabakistan!"
"Yeah, right," Tybalt snorted. "And I'm the King of Lalaland."
"You are?" Dumbass asked, eyes wide, his expression of shock painfully exaggerated. "How did you get rid of all the wrinkles?" Dumbass snickered.
"That's it. I give up." Tybalt whirled around, ready to stalk off.
"Wait! You can't leave me here!" Dumbass whined - again. "I don't even know where the hell I am. You got me into this, now get me out!"
"Correction. You got me into this, by running off and dooming yourself with a dead end. If you had any brains I wouldn't had to come save you out of the kindness of my heart."
"Oh, I do have brains, all right, but only those with brains can appreciate my braininess."
Tybalt raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"