Wednesday, March 8, 2006

   When Chibis Attack! Part 30
Chronicles of past adventures are over here.

Part 30: In Which the Gag Plays Out

Polite conversation. I hate it.

"What are you here for, anyway?" Was that too obvious?

"That file, you know, the blue one. And I wanted to see how you were doing with number five." He sounds so hopeful, as if I were not a drunk that he has unwisely employed.

Desperately dig through the Fuzzy Sock Drawer of Memory. Recall yesterday's brief burst of productivity. Rejoice.



"I have those! They're done!"

"Oh... wow!" I don't know who's more surprised, him or me. "That's amazing! I mean, fantastic. Today's going to go a lot easier than I thought." Any day you don't have to justify hiring a lazy drunk is a good day, I bet. "I'll just get those and be on my way. Uh... do you mind if I use your washroom first?"

"Down the hall, on your left!" Even my directions are cheerful. Then the recent remodeling of the bathroom emerges from the Sock Drawer. "Uh... I've been doing some repairs in there, though."

"I'll watch for holes in the floor." And his voice disappears into the loo.




That tobacco-sucking monk had better have opened a window. Or at least hit the fan. I'm sure there was a lower set of switches when I was in there last. Mysterious little switches.

"Is it safe yet?" Goku echoes from inside the fridge, startling me.

"No. Please be quiet, Goku." The bread box scolds the fridge. "I'll tell you when you can come out. And don't eat that ham!"

"But!"

"Don't. Now be quiet, he's - shhh!"




As if cued by some cosmic director in the situation comedy that passes for my life, Mr. Collar exits my bathroom.

Mad dash to desk. Search heaps of paper for files: Blue, number 5. Kougaiji.

Crap!






Kougaiji is not hiding. He is sitting on my desk, in his favorite sunbeam, smiling happily and drawing stickmen on a blank sheet of paper.

Consider screaming. Nix it as overly dramatic. Likewise reject tears, beatings, and burning the place down.



"Aww... another cute doll!" Mr. Collar looks over my shoulder.

I panic.

Thankfully, my version of panic is the Lazy Man's Version: Remain completely still and hope that the universe will realize its mistake and will return you to your regularly scheduled life as soon as possible.

Kougaiji appears to be following the same course, even his adorable smile fixed glassily on his face.

Mr. Collar picks him up.




Behind that smile are a lot of very pointy teeth. I begin to sweat profusely.




"There's a lot of detail on the little guy. Where'd you get him?" Mr. Collar turns Kougaiji this way and that. Upside down.

"Yeah. That place! On the. By. The store. The big one. You know." Sweat vanquishing my antiperspirant, soaking through my shirt. Tomorrow's headlines appear before my eyes: 'Man eaten by doll! Former employee drowns in own sweat!'

"Oh." Mr. Collar's eyes are now fixed on me, which is a relief, since they're no longer on the suspiciously fidgety doll, who is making a face at being held upside down. However, now I'm expected to say something to somehow prove that I am not a drunken nut with a suspicious bathroom and oddly cute dolls.

How to prove sanity... a ha!



Hold out files. Try not to sing the Hallelujah Chorus.

"Files! All done!" When you don't have proof, use distraction. Court TV has taught me this.

"Oh, right. Thanks." His suspicion is overwhelmed by joy at finding productivity in such an unlikely place. His surprise, combined with reaching for the folders, provides the perfect opportunity for bait-and-switch hostage freeing of the Naughty Little Prince.




Kougaiji latches on to my arm as if instinctively certain that I will send him home with this strange man if I can pry him off. There is a chance he may be right.

"Well, mid-morning appointments, you know." I smile, trying to herd Mr. Collar out the door. He resist me for a gut-wrenching moment.

"You know, my sister collects dolls from all over the world. That's some amazing workmanship on your collection, though. I had no idea you had a hobby." What, he thought my only hobby was drinking? Alas, those happy times have passed...




Laugh nervously. Try to stop Kougaiji from cutting off circulation to my arm.

"Ah. It's a new thing for me. Pain in the ass, really." My hand tingles and goes cold. Kougaiji is sending Morse Code directly up my nerves: 'Pwease, Mummy, I'll be good...' "...but, I've gotten into it now." A little feeling returns to my pinky. "Yeah. Wouldn't have it any other way." Index finger, reporting for duty!

"I see. Fascinating."

"Ha ha. Yes. Anyway, don't want to make you late."

"Oh, right. Good job, by the way."

"Thanks." Wave remaining arm, backing inside. "Bye bye!"

Slam.





Lean against the door.

Wait until the sound of his engine has faded away down the street.

Wait a bit more.

Breathe.




Remove Kougaiji.

"You were supposed to be hiding."

"I wuz hidink."

"On the desk."

"It's a mice pwace to hide."

"I bet. Nice and sunny."




Kougaiji nods happily. He holds up a picture of him and 'Mummy' walking in the park. There is a big, spiky castle in the background, with a puppy beside it.

Try to muster up a good scold.

Fail.

"...yeah. That's nice. Go stick it on the fridge. And let Goku out while you're there."

I need a new shirt, before I drown in my own quickly-cooling sweat.




Stop dead in my tracks.

Sanzo storming out of the bathroom. Literally. A small thunder cloud roils above his head, flashing miniature lightning.

He has his own weather system. He's pissed enough to have a meteorological effect.

"Problem?" Keep face and voice as neutral as possible.

Sanzo stops, tiny fists in tight balls. He glares up at me, and faint thunder rolls.

"That. Bastard. Used. ME. As a Hand TOWEL!"





Suddenly, it's all worth it. All the stress. Everything.

Nothing wrong with a little suffering, as long as it's spread around. Especially spread on those soft, white robes.

Must keep face straight! Life depends on it!





Grab a fresh shirt. Stop just short of stripping off, alerted by two suspicious antennae sticking out of my partly-closed underwear drawer.

Yank.

"So... has he gone yet?" Gojyo inquires, hands in his pockets, as he dangles from my grip. Of course he would have closed his eyes while I changed...

"Yes."

"You two... involved?" He picks at his nails, trying to look nonchalant, despite dangling by the antennae.

"No."

"And that sister he mentioned, is she..."

Toss out door... fairly gently.

After all, Sanzo was just used as a hand towel. That adds up to a good day, however you count it.


-----
Yes, the entirety of the last 2 chapters was all a build up to one 'gee, those robes are soft' gag. Yes, I need therapy. No, I can't afford it.

=^@.@^=
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