You made it through the stupidity. congratulations. Unfortunatley there is no reward. The only thing we do for you here is to kill your brain cells.
Oh? you didn't know that was a free service we provide? Well then, enjoy our gift to you!
I feel so dumb lol. I'm pretty sure this fic began as a fever dream. I can't quite remember.
Embrace the Cringe. It's the only whey. (clucks in dead meme)
everybody knows only gay guys drive volkswagens.
Please write a review made entirely of spanish curse words. It'll be funny. I promise. just cuss me th fk out.
*Knocking*
"Hello?"
Huh? What the hell?
Iori placed his guitar back on its stand and went to answer the door. People didn't solicit in this part of SouthTown. It was too dangerous, Geese's gang ran amok on these streets. Iori had chosen this place for that very purpose, neither the paparazzi nor reporters were willing to travel through gang territory to bother him. Iori Yagami hated to be bothered.
He stuck his head out and found a rather portly man had climbed the steps to his flat. He stood outside the wrought-iron gate in the sweltering heat. The sun glinted off his forehead and shone into Iori's eyes. The shiny grinned and waved. Iori squinted at him.
"I'm not buying your shit. Go away."
"Uh, Sir. This is a delivery."
"What?"
"We're here to deliver something. Please sign this."
Iori hadn't ordered anything, but his curiosity got the better of him. He kicked on a pair of sandals and stepped out. He scrawled a signature on the man's touchpad as he pushed past and began descending the stairs. Shiny stepped back as if startled and averted his eyes. Iori ignored him.
I hope the fans didn't find my address again… They sent me a hundred pounds of rotting meat last time. God it stank so bad.
On the street below, two workers had just pulled the large wooden crate of something from the truck bed. They gave each other a strange look. A pair of old women stopped walking from across the road. Iori began yelling directions from the base of the steps.
"No, don't bring it up here, just stick it in the car port- yeah, underneath that overhang."
"No, the other one, the one with the Golf"
"Hey! If you scratch that fucking mustang a scary old man will come find you tonight and wring your neck. Don't even think about touching it."
"Oh, goddammit, you guys are useless. Let me - umph."
The three delivery-persons stood by awkwardly as a red haired man dressed in nothing but his underpants grabbed the seven-hundred pound box from them and tottered away. They murmured among themselves and quickly concluded that he was insane and they needed to vacate the premises as soon as possible.
As the truck skidded away, Iori placed the box down with a thump. He stabbed a hole through the wood panels and gave it a good sniff. It wasn't rotten food. Good.
He began shredding the crate's lid. With a heave it came free. The sudden influx of air caused a letter to flutter out of the box. Iori shook the wood chips out from beneath his fingernails and picked it up.
Dear Yagami,
I hope you accept this apology.
Chizuru Kagura.
He stared at the letter, confused. Apology? For what? Why would Chizuru ever apologize to him? Iori dropped the note and returned to the crate.
The inside was filled with hundreds… no perhaps thousands of pill bottles.
Iori picked one up and read the label.
...
Oh.
...
Now… That's just mean.
...
Chizuru had mailed him an industry sized palette of motion sickness medication.
Iori wasn't sure if he should laugh or scream.
King of Fighters? More like King of Weak Endings hahahah (pls shoot me. im so tired it's like 1:30)
Lol Yag running around naked all the time. I mean, in his defense, Florida is hot... and I guess he subscribes to body positivity?
*Volkswagen Golf - brand and make.
Dont worry. I hate myself too. We're all of the same mind here.