Note: FFn was not cooperating at the time I posted this and all formatting was lost. I'm hoping the italic and bold print are visible. I aplogise on FFn's behalf if they are not.
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A/N: This is it, dears. The final chapter in Golden Boy's emasculation. I hope you've enjoyed knocking him down a notch or two. I sure have.
The Epi will post right after this chapter so don't go too far. Thanks so much for indulging me while I invented new and horrendous ways to humiliate our beloved Eddiekins. You made this little experiment successful!
**** IF you have NOT yet read the GB OUTTAKE "See Ya Later, Alligator", (posted under "Premature Emasculation" on my profile) then you need to read that first. Otherwise this chapter will make little sense and you will think that I have lost my marbles.****
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Chapter 10- Saved the Best for Last
Standing on the outside looking in, one might think that my life was a walk in the park. The truth was, while my life was decent, I doubt there was a single student on campus that was willing to trade places with me. Granted, if we were rating my quality of life on a sliding scale it wouldn't rate as low as say, being duct-taped naked to a flag pole, but it was in no way Heisman Trophy worthy, either. At least I didn't have Emmett breathing down my neck any longer. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. He was still breathing down my neck, but the worst he did those days was threaten to beat me within an inch of my life with my own cock if I so much as made his baby sister's nose wrinkle in dissatisfaction. The practical jokes, aka "fun times," had, for all intents and purposes, stopped, and I couldn't say that I missed those times in the least. Although, there was something to be said for the peace of mind their predictability afforded. The surfacing of the occasional, random punking made me edgy, and had me looking over my shoulder. A lot. College life continued much as one might expect: classes, practices, games, celebratory parties that were well lubricated with copious amounts of alcohol, fucking amazing dates with my girl (who was also well lubricated), exams, yada, yada, yada... I was quickly approaching "The Burned-Out Zone" and, sadly, there wasn't any weed to blame it on.
Thankfully, salvation was on the horizon. Salvation in the form of the "Big and Hearty Festival." Three days of amazing live music, insanely good food, bikini-clad chicks who were dancing-slash-running around, and no responsibilities for seventy-two straight hours. It was no Bonnaroo, but it was a great opportunity to see some up-and-coming bands. The Delts had opted to set up a communal campground that could serve as "home base." That way all the brothers attending could spend the weekend lost in a drunken, glutinous haze, listening to bands with names like "Bitch Please," "Attack Decay," and "Charles In Charge" and not have to worry about getting back to the frat house sans pants. Pants have a way of getting lost at these events. I couldn't explain it, I just knew that I had seen more grown-ass men walking around without pants at music festivals than I had in locker rooms.
Emmett, Jasper, Embry and I somehow ended up sharing one giant tent. I have no recollection of whose brilliant fucking idea that was, but in my opinion he'd never be a Nobel Prize recipient. Day one of the festival found us huddled in our "camping condo" and deciding which bands we wanted to see. Em was blowing up his air mattress manually because he'd left the electric pump back at the house. A sane, rational individual would have driven the seven miles back to get it or forget the mattress all together and sleep in a sleeping bag-like a dude. But no, this was Emmett McCarty, camping diva extraordinaire, we were dealing with here.
"I'd really like to get over to see some of the new funk bands this year," Jasper requested while he laid out his sleeping bag then grabbed a beer out of the cooler. The fucker didn't bother to offer the rest of us one. Common courtesy, please? I stalked across the tent and grabbed one for myself, glaring at him as I did so.
"That shit is not music," Embry goaded him.
"Whatever, oh, tone deaf one. You think electronica is music, so you have absolutely no room to talk!" That Jasper took his funk seriously. "Don't dunk the funk, man. Not cool."
"What the fuck does that mean, 'Dunk the funk'? You sound like a moron. Besides, I'll have you know-" Embry was getting wound up and ready for a verbal brawl. It was about to get rowdy all up in da tent.
"Alright... you... pansy-ass... fuckers... stop fighting... before you both... end up... sleeping... outside." Every few words were punctuated with a puff on the plastic tubing. Emmett was about halfway through blowing up the king-sized mattress he'd brought with him. He was as red as a cherry tomato hanging on the vine and ripe for the picking. And I loved me a nice, ripe tomato. I just couldn't resist.
"Wow, Em," I started, "I had no idea you had such mad blowing skills. No wonder you're so popular with the guys' swim team." Embry and Jasper snorted at my jab; Emmett was less amused.
"Shut it, pecker face," he growled, the clear valve clenched between his teeth as he spoke. I flinched at the memory of me with an actual pecker drawn on my face. "You're just jealous that you didn't think to bring an air mattress. And don't even think of asking me to share with you. I'm sure you're dying to hop into bed with my fine-ass self, but you only get to schtup one McCarty at a time. Although we McCarty's are well known for our ability to multitask and our inherited sexual prowess. There's something very alluring about a guaranteed good lay."
"You could be the big spoon and he could be the little spoon," Embry injected. He was about to find himself intimately acquainted with spoons if he didn't shut his trap. I started mentally calculating how close the nearest Wal-Mart was and composing a shopping list: Plastic Spoons (500 count), Super Glue (Twin pack x10), Econo-sized bottle of Nyquil. One mastered the art of practical jokes when living in a frat house. It was kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, punk or be punked. I'd learned that lesson the hard way.
"For starters, Bella's a Swan, not a McCarty. Secondly, she's your sister, man! That's fucking gross, Emmett! I can't believe you just went there. She is going to kick your ass when she hears that you were spouting shit." It may have been the pussy's route to sick the guy's sister on him, but the look on his face was worth it.
"You wouldn't dare, Golden Boy. Even you aren't pathetic enough to stoop to that level of pussy."
"Oh, I would, and I shall. Bella will be here later and I'm sure I'll have the perfect opportunity to mention to her that her brother was talking about her like she was a common whore."
"I did not!" he nearly shrieked, "I was merely stating facts. Don't even think about ratting me out, or I will revoke our little peace treaty."
"Whatever, Em, you don't scare me anymore," I scoffed.
Yes, he does. Great. The Shat.
"Yes, I do," Emmett echoed the voice in my head. That shit was freaky. "But you know you don't need to be scared of me, Eddiekins. We're besties now!" The tone of his voice was almost as disturbing as his words, all sing-songy and girly. It made me shiver.
"You know, Em, I liked you a lot more when you were always trying to kill me. At least then I knew what to expect from you." I turned back to my sleeping bag thinking that maybe I should keep it rolled up as a precaution against the prankage.
"Well, that could be arranged, pretty boy."
Oh, yeah, definitely keeping my sleeping bag rolled up!
Told ya so!
Shut it, Shitner. If I wanted your opinion then I'd ask for it. I made a mental note to Google which meds one could start taking to get rid of unwanted voices in one's head.
Maybe if you listened to me more then you wouldn't find yourself in such perilous predicaments.
Which predicaments are you referring to, exactly?
How quickly you forget, dear boy. What about when the douche your lady love calls "Big Bro" replaced your sunscreen with a bottle of spluge? He must have been jacking off every hour on the hour for a week straight to fill that bottle! Or how about the time he dumped those rubber spiders in your room at the frat house? There must have been thousands of 'em! You screamed like a little pussy and slept on the couch for days. Ah... good times.
Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. We'll see who has the last laugh when all is said and done. Besides, Em hasn't been screwing with me since he found out about me and Bella. He wouldn't think about starting again. She'd have his balls in a vise if he did.
Think what you want, but you start a pissing contest with that pisser and I think you're gonna find yourself on the receiving end of a golden shower, Golden Boy.
Thanks, Shat. You're always looking out for my best interests. I wondered briefly if sarcasm was wasted on mental voices.
Nah, I'd like nothing more than to see you get pissed on; it would give me the perfect opportunity to yell, "I told you so," and hear it reverberate throughout the chasm that is your cranium.
Stupid fucking voices.
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Saturday of the festival found us roaming the grounds in search of food and waiting for the girls to call and announce that they were back for another day of great music and intense heat. They weren't "roughing it" like we were, although what we were doing could hardly be considered rough. I mean, no one was having to make life or death decisions about cutting off appendages or drinking their own piss just to survive. But it was hotter than hell. We had a bet going to see which of the Delts would cave and go sit in their car for a few moments of conditioned air. My money was on Emmett.
The girls showed up with coffee and donuts and we all discussed which bands we wanted to see that day. We pored over the day's lineup. "Ha! Look! There's a band named Golden Boy! Bet you wanna see them, huh, GB?" Embry could be such a prick. I made a mental note to garnish his dinner with a light dusting of my pubes. Then we'd see how funny he thought he was. "Well, Embry, if nicknames are your criteria for whether or not someone wants to see an act, then I'm guessing Big Gigantic is off your 'must see' list, little man," I wiggled my pinky at him to get my point across.
"Shut up, fucker." Embry reached for the closest thing to fling at me, which happened to be a pillow. "What, now you want to have a pillow fight?" I taunted him.
"I'm seriously starting to worry about you, Embry. You need to find something warm to sink your not-so-big-gigantic into while we're here." Emmett had apparently finished blowing up his bed and decided to join in the fun. "With all this pussy running around there's bound to be some chick willing to give ya at least a little head. Get it? A little head?" Oh, that Em was a riot. I was just glad that I wasn't the recipient of his shit for once. The girls weren't impressed with our "stupid male posturing" as Rose called it. Bella kinda giggled and called us the "Brotherhood of Traveling Morons" and told us to stop picking on poor, little Embry. I, of course, snickered at the "little." Emmett just shrugged and said, "We work well together! Like caffeine and coffee!"
"Ooh, or like chocolate and peanut butter," I added.
"Or like vodka and, well, anything," was Jasper's contribution to the conversation. He had his moments. Most could be contributed to his being under the influence of some substance or another. The Brotherhood agreed, though, and a bottle of the potato liquor appeared out of thin air. The tent erupted in cheers and flasks were filled, to be drawn from throughout the day.
We split up after we'd made our plans. Bella and Rose volunteered to save space for the more popular shows while the rest of us went to check out a few smaller acts. Most were actually pretty good. We made sure to buy CDs of the ones we really liked. I think most of our weekend was spent waiting in lines for food, for acts to start, to buy t-shirts or CDs, and most importantly for bathrooms. And after four giant cups of coffee I couldn't wait any longer! It was critical mass time. On the verge of a poop-lear meltdown, I'd had no other choice but to duck into one of the stalls in the bank of porta-potties lined up along the field's edge. There were several permanent bathroom facilities on the fairgrounds, but the sheer volume of people made it nearly impossible to get near those. So I was forced to trek out to the rows and rows of outhouses that the attendees had affectionately named "Shitty Shanty Town."
God, I hate these things!
I had a deep, irrational fear of being trapped inside one of the tiny shithouses after watching one too many episodes in a Jackass marathon back in high school. I glanced around me like a paranoid fucker and rushed in before I had a really embarrassing situation on my hands- er ass. I had purposely chosen this particular potty for its privacy, so the fact that it was at the far end of the row had a few benefits. One- I could freely do my business without worrying who was in the stall next to me as I conducted my one-man ass symphony. Two-it seemed relatively clean. The phase, "to boldly go where no man had gone before," came to mind. Yeah, I was spending way too much time with the Shat. I checked and double-checked the latch on the door, making sure that it wasn't faulty.
Once I was satisfied that I wouldn't be locked in the shitter and that there was more than three sheets of toilet paper on the roll, I settled in to do that which I had ventured to the far recesses of the grounds to do. Just as I got comfortable, I heard noises outside.
"Hello?" I tested the now quiet to see if someone had the same idea I had and sought out some privacy. When there was no answer I thought, I must be hearing things- just paranoid, thanks to that fucker Emmett.
I focused on my task, determined to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. Just in case.
But I heard it again. And then there were some scuffling sounds and a loud grunt. Suddenly, I had the feeling of tipping backward. The john landed on its back and began rolling down what must have been a hill behind it. A hill I had failed to notice when I handpicked my shitter. I bounced around inside the shit house like a Powerball in the Florida Lottery. The stall finally came to rest after three or four full rolls and landed door down, trapping me inside. It was a horrifying experience; one moment I was answering nature's call, the next I was covered in the most foul smelling, well- shit- that I had ever smelled before. Sputtering and gasping, I pounded on the sides of the shit house of death, "Get me the fuck outta here," I roared until I realized exactly what that foul taste most definitely was. My panic kicked into overdrive, "RIGHT! THE! FUCK! NOW!"
"Hold your horses, Eddiekins! We'll get you out!" a voice answered that I assumed was Emmett's, but it was hard to tell with all the laughing and pounding. "Push on the count of three- one... two... three!" The john was rolled over on its side once more, and I came tumbling out, my shorts down around my ankles, covered head to toe in the nasty blue, goopy chemicals they use and only God knew what else. Shit for sure, but whose was a mystery. I looked around briefly before puking up the contents of my stomach.
"Holy shit, Eddie! That's disgusting!" I heard one of my brothers call. He obviously had a firm grasp of the obvious. A person of equally offended sensibilities groaned in agreement. A few of the gawkers must have caught wind of my foul smell, because there was a chorus of gagging and retching noises going on around me. The stench made the skunk funk seem like fucking rose water! Someone thrust a handful of towels at me and I wiped my face and head to keep the mess from getting in my eyes and back into my mouth. A few of the Delts showed up with a hose and started to unceremoniously spray me down. I stripped off my Delt t-shirt and vigorously scrubbed all over my body, trying to rid myself of the muck that covered me from head to toe. Everything I had on was trashed. There was no way I could go back to camp the way I looked and smelled. It was then that it dawned on me...
"Who. The. FUCK. Knocked. Me. Over?" The eerie calm in my voice surprised even me. The clusterfuck of Delta Brothers all just stood around me in a wonky kind of circle. I turned to look each of them in the face, hoping someone's guilty conscience would betray them. I had a strong suspicion who the ringleader was, but I wanted them to own up to it. We were brothers, after all, and I thought we were past all of this hardcore shit. Finally, my eyes rested on McCarty.
"It was you. You did this. I... I could have been killed," I calmly accused.
"Don't be so dramatic, Golden Boy. It was a harmless prank, and the only way you could have died is if you'd have drowned in your own shit. I had it on good authority that you're a strong swimmer, so I wasn't too concerned about that. Relax, man. One day, you'll look back on this and laugh your ass off!" His patronizing tone only pissed me off more.
"Emmett, you motherfucker! I'm done! I'm out! If THIS is what you consider camaraderie and brotherhood then I don't want it!" I threw the soiled towels on the ground in disgust. I ripped a fresh one from the hands of one of the Delts as I stormed past. I went to work drying off as best as I could. Emmett could be heard calling for me to "wait up." But, I'd meant it; I was finished.
As I made my way back toward the campgrounds where I considered what my next move would be, I was furious! Part of me wanted to report the frat to the Greek System and press charges. I was fairly certain that they could be tried for hazing, but I threw out that thought as soon as it crossed my mind. I knew they didn't want to actually hurt me, but they had gone too far. I could still hear Emmett yelling behind me. Eventually, he caught up to me; a few of the brothers were right behind him.
"Damn, Eddie, you're fast," he huffed and puffed. "Guess that's why you're the QB, huh?" I just stared at him in disbelief.
"Really? You wanna shoot the breeze, McCarty? Well, I'm sorry if I don't feel much like talking about shit like stats and the fucking weather! In fact, I'm not sure that I'll have anything to say to you ever again!" I stormed into our tent and peeled off the remainder of my ruined clothes, tossing them onto the center of Emmett's carefully made bed. I threw on some clothes and started packing up my shit; I wanted to get as far away from these fuckers as possible. I had every intention of heading back to campus, shoving as much of my stuff into boxes as I could manage, and getting the fuck out of Dodge. I'd figure out the rest later.
"Just hear us out, man. I think you'll understand when we tell you the why." I doubted it.
"I highly fucking doubt it." See?
"Well, here's the deal: the Delts have a time-honored tradition of being the pranksters on campus. Obviously. We work hard, we study hard, and we play hard; goofing off helps blow off steam and strengthen the bonds we try to build." I couldn't help but scoff at him. I'd felt everything EXCEPT close to these guys- until recently.
"Are you kidding me? What part of taping my naked ass to a flagpole or throwing my ass down a hill in a shit house was supposed to make me feel welcome and part of a group?"
"Oh, get over yourself, Edward," Embry spit. "You act like you were the only one getting their ass handed to them! Every single one of us has been pranked, but you've just had your head too far up your own ass to notice. Stop your bitching and listen to Em!" I had no desire to "listen to Em," but I did.
"So, like I was saying," Emmett continued. I saw him eyeing the mess of slop on his carefully crafted bed; a hint of satisfaction flowed over me. "We are a crew of misfits who test each other's wit and brotherly ties by trying to one-up each other. It only makes sense that we'd go about electing a new president a little differently than most other fraternities. With me graduating in a few weeks, we happen to think you'd make a good replacement."
"Wait- you want me to be King of the Fuck-ups?" Well, I didn't see THAT coming.
Funny, seems like a logical step to me. You are the biggest fuck-up of them all.
SHAT!
Wrong time?
Yeah.
Shutting.
Thanks.
"Yeah, as of this moment you're the new Prez of the Delts. We took a vote last night. All that was left was your initiation. Consider yourself initiated, fucker." Man, that Emmett was an eloquent dude.
"That was horrible, man. Horrible! I can't believe you did that to me! You fucking suck! How the hell am I supposed to get the SHIT off of me? I'm gonna smell like a walking porta-potty forever!"
"Well, we do have a case of tomato soup back at the frat house. If it worked on that skunk..."
"But it didn't. Your sister had to come over and scrub me with dish washing detergent and baking soda."
He covered his ears like a two year old. "Ew, Ed, I so do not need to hear about you and the sexcapades you engage in with my baby sister!"
Okay, so maybe I stretched the truth a little, but he deserved it.
"So, now I pass the paddle to you, Golden Boy."
"That's President Golden Boy to you, fucker."
"Oh, damn. I think we've created a monster," Emmett worried to the other brothers in the tent.
"Maybe, and you better watch your back, man, 'cause I want you go to bed every night for the next few weeks knowing that you may have been a badass when it came to pranks, but I've saved the best for last. And it has your name written all over it."
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FIN
GAME OVER
THAT'S ALL FOLKS!
A/N: Stay tuned for the Epi to see who gets the last laugh.
Thanks to the usual suspects: TwilightMundi, CoachLady12, & Barburella. Hugs and snuggles to each of you.