Monday, July 25, 2005

   Cream Filling: Origins (Chapter VIII)
[A scary thought just hit me: I never really did finish the final few outlines of the story . . . . . hmm . . . and I almost forgot a rather important cameo! My my my . . .]


"Alright Cream," Lieutenant Chiemi said once the two of them entered the relatively spacious conference room, "take a seat." Cream sat down at the offered chair and, once the lieutenant himself was sitting down and looking away, quickly tugged at the top of his tie. Once Lieutenant Chiemi was settled, Cream rested his arms across the top of the table and cracked his knuckles quickly. To say that he was somewhat nervous would have been a grave understatement.

"Alright, let's get started," the lieutenant said. "Just relax, and answer the questions as best you can . . . it's not like we have the polygraph in here, right?" Cream laughed lightly at the comment and nodded. "Oh, for the record, you should just relax for that one too . . ."

Lieutenant Chiemi opened up her folder and took out a pen.
"So here's the first and most straight forward question," she said. "Why do you want to be a police officer?" Cream grinned, expecting the question to come a little later than it did.
"I'd say I want to become a police officer because I want to help others," he answered. The lieutenant smirked upon hearing the response.
"Well, we all kinda expected that much . . ." she said back. "So why do you want to help others?" Cream couldn't help but smirk himself, the 'why' question bringing back memories of his various talks with Professor Sauru before the schoolyear ended.
"Good question . . . well, if I can help people, then I feel as though maybe I can pay back everything that I've taken from . . . . . ya know, people in general." Lieutentant Chiemi retorted.
"If you want to become a police officer out of a sense of obligation, it's not gonna work out-"
"Well yeah, but if I like it then it can't really be obligatory, can it?"
"Cream," the lieutenant said, "I can't think of a time where anyone has ever answered that question without sounding a little cliché. There are better questions later."
"Uh . . . right, of course . . . . ."

The interview shifted into one about Cream's past. They discussed his old family life, school, and hobbies. The entire time, Cream still kept a constant watch over the things he was saying, fearing any truly poor response would ruin his chances. After almost a month of applications and preparation - of networking and soul-searching - he was not going to fail this test.

". . . so yeah, maybe I'll take some distance ed' to finish off my diploma in the next year or so once I have some money to pay for it," he explained, "but I do keep reading all those things they were making us read . . ."
"No cable at the place you're staying?" Lieutenant Chiemi asked jokingly.
"He's got sucky channels, yeah," Cream answered. "That's the other thing, too. I'm looking for a new apartment or something, so hopefully I can finally have my own place and stuff . . . of course, again, I have to wait for that money first . . . but that's besides the point right now, I guess . . ." Though both of them laughed lightly at the comments, Cream wanted to kick himself in the teeth for making such a big issue out of his financial situation.

"I'm guessing you already know that being a police officer is a very physically demanding career?" Lieutenant Chiemi said, moving on with the interview.
"Ah, yeah," Cream replied, "and I've been working on that situation so it'll be better for me."
What have you been doing?"
"So far . . ." Cream trailed off briefly while he recollected all the things he had been doing for the past month or two. "I'm going to the gym regularly, I've been running in the mornings . . . oh, I also recently joined this neat little martial arts place downtown . . ." As he listed his efforts, Chiemi stopped him once feeling Cream had said enough.
"That sounds pretty good, yeah," Chiemi said. "About the workout regiments, if you need to know more about what sort of level you need to be at, you can talk to the head desk and they'll give you some pamplets and stuff . . . about the martial arts place, well . . ." the lieutenant's eyes flickered upwards quickly. ". . . we'll teach you how to fight the legally restrainable way, but any sort of experience like that couldn't hurt . . ." Cream had to laugh after hearing that bit.

A few more questions about Cream's physical fitness and abilities came up afterwards. Medical history, eyesight, and the ability to drive were all quickly asked; they were all in turn quickly and succinctly answered. After Cream explained that he could drive although he did not own a car, Lieutenant Chiemi smiled inside. It was not so much that he was physically up to the job, more so that he was finally answering the questions freely and unrestrained.

"Let's move on to the super fun questions now," Chiemi said, smiling wickedly while doing so.
"Those weren't the fun ones?" Cream asked back.
"Ohhhh no. No, these are the fun ones." Cream's expression hardened slightly and he prepared himself. "Question one," Chiemi said, "it should probably go without saying that this can be a very dangerous profession at time. After all, we will be giving you a flak jacket and a pistol if you make it in . . . people have died in this line of duty, from things as large as organised crime busts to things as small as a drunk driver who didn't want a ticket. You have to be ready for anything and everything, because you really never do know what could happen. We will train you to the best of your ability, and you will be able to handle most of these situations, but these situations will occur in some form or another . . . . . this is what you'll be getting yourself into aside from all that other stuff . . ." At this point the lieutenant leaned in slightly and looked Cream dead in the eye; Cream looked away. "This won't be your daily routine, but these days will come . . ." As the sentences came out of the lieutenant's mouth, they all seemed to stab into the young Cream, and he paid great attention to each one. Cream continued to look down at the table silently even after Lieutentant Chiemi had finished speaking. The lieutenant was a little worried that the words may have lost another potential candidate, but it was a necessary step to see whether they could count on the men and women coming into the force. After half a minute of silence, Cream looked back up with a smirk.
"I thought this was a question?" he said.

The moment's awkwardness being completely evaporated and Cream having completely prepared himself for the worst, Chiemi continued.
"How would you describe the way you handle stressful situations?" Cream thought for a moment, thinking back to the beginning of the interview but finding nothing.
"Lately, I guess . . ." he said, thinking as quickly as he could, ". . . . . the worst thing in a stressful situation is indecision, because that's what starts panic. Lately, I've just been trying to react as quickly as I could in any way to anything that's happened to me."
"That seems kinda dangerous, Cream," the lieutenant commented.
"Oh, it is," he answered, "but for the most part my quick decisions have led to pretty good better decisions. I just trust my instincts, I guess . . ."

"Have you ever gotten into a fight or a quarrel that could have been resolved another way?" Chiemi then asked.
"Yes," Cream answered, "many fights, most of which should have never happened." The lieutenant did not respond back right away, so Cream continued. "I guess . . . I was just a stupid kid, didn't know what he was doing with his life . . . heh, I bet you hear this sort of story all the time, huh?"
"Not as much as you'd expect, actually," Chiemi replied flatly. Cream shrugged and shook out his neck slightly.

"Alright," Lieutenant Chiemi said, "here's the five hundred thousand dollar question . . . have you ever abused a position of power or authority over a weaker person?" The question hit Cream like an elephant, and he was visibly stunned for a brief moment. Still, he forced himself back to reality and immediately answered with the first thing that came to mind.

". . . Yeah, I have," he answered. "Lotsa times, really . . . high schoolers, complete strangers . . . . . I've done and said a lot of things that, looking back now, well . . . it's shameful. It really is . . . and . . . . ." While the lieutenant watched and listened attentively, Cream paused for a moment as all the memories flooded back to his mind. ". . . . . and y'know, some of these things they started and some of these things we started . . . . . . . . . but yeah, this is the stuff I wanna make up for . . ."

As Cream trailed off for the final time, he looked back down at the table while the memories continued to flash through him.
"I bet the polygraph guys would've had a fun time with that one," Lieutenant Chiemi joked while writing out the last few notes from the interview. "But, so far your background check has been good, I'd say your first interview has gone well, and I don't doubt that we'll be seeing you strapped to a lie detector in another week or two."
"Oh, thanks . . ." Cream replied, ". . . I think?" Chiemi smiled one more time before standing up and motioning for Cream to do the same.

"I'm gonna tell you something now," the lieutenant said while opening the door for the young applicant, "a lot of times, the guys with ultra-clean interview responses don't do so well as the training goes on." As Cream walked through the door, he gave the lieutenant a puzzled look. "See, they don't know what it means to go beyond their power or authority . . . it's a tricky line, and a lot of times the best cops are the ones that have been on both sides of it at some point in their lives . . ."

Cream grinned as they walked down the hall back to the entrance of the institute.
"I gotta say, though," he said, "this side of the line is a lot easier on the eyes . . ."


[Y'know . . . I saw my idiot police officer brother earlier this week. I should've asked him more about what his first interview was like so I could be more true to life . . . . . dang. Ah well . . . . . and for the record, "lieutenant" is a funky word to have to keep spelling.]
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Sunday, July 24, 2005

   Heh . . . this was inevitable . . . . .
I thought maybe this story would be the one. Y'know, the one that stayed COMPLETELY on schedule the ENTIRE run. Heh, and well, it came close . . . . . but then I went to a wedding yesterday which went on 'til quite late, and now it's very late and I have work starting this afternoon. Heh . . . writing a chapter now would demean us all.

Thus, I shall do my patented two-in-a-row maneuver tonight and tomorrow night. A'ight? A'ight!

That said, this weekend has certainly been eventful for me. I'll tell you all about it once the story ends . . . which it should by this week, if all goes well.
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Friday, July 22, 2005

   Cream Filling: Origins (Chapter VII)
[I hope I can end this with an exciting note . . . 'cause so far, I don't have anything amazingly kapow-ish, y'know what I mean? We'll see what happens when we get there, I guess . . . heh, meantimes I desparately hope this chapter doesn't kill this story . . . 'tis a tricky one, methinks . . .]


Cream slouched low in the office chair as he looked at his exam results on the school's website. He wasn't surprised by what he saw, though the realisation still weighed heavy in his chest. Swearing to himself, he exhaled slowly and ran his fingers through his hair again. His grades had dropped below the required percentage to allow him to keep his scholarship; his college education was over.

Cream quickly clicked through the browser and looked at the requirements for student loans and such. He was certainly eligible, and the loan would be able to cover a decent amount if not all of the next year's schooling. But considering the number of years he would have to live off of loans, the sheer amount of time and effort put forth just hurt his head. The scope was just too large for his world.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Cream couldn't help but grin and chuckle to himself. After all, he had always been joking that he was gonna lose his scholarship sooner or later. And indeed, many, many others had already commented that "scholarships are meant to be lost." Giving up on the various links about student loans, Cream changed his search.

Cream was truly glad for once that everyone else had decided to do something without him. Though he didn't dare try to imagine what the others were up to, he also knew it wouldn't take much imagination to guess what they were probably up to . . . in any case, he definitely did not want them to see him job searching at that very moment.

After all the time and effort he had already put forth, he did not want to have to stop his education right then and there . . . if the worst of it was that he worked for a year and then came back, then it was something he could get a grasp of. Unfortunately the majority of work in the local area was very small and cheap; openings for cigarette shops or fast food restaurants littered the tops of the lists. There was nowhere he could truly work in town and make the money he needed . . .

As thoughts of money swam through his head, he stopped to look at the computer he was sitting in front of and grinned. He was sitting at Knight's computer set up in the living room, not his. None of the apartment was really his - all of it came through Knight's work and family who helped set him up. He may have slept in that apartment at night, but it certainly was not home in the smallest sense.

Cream's searches shifted away from want ads to housing. Having enough money for school was enough, let alone a new place to live on top of that! Nevertheless, Cream's curiosity got the better of him and he wanted to see what sorts of prices he could find. Naturally, every free apartment and basement in the city was a place completely unreachable at his present situation. It was all a pipe-dream . . . though a dream he desparately needed to come true. He knew it now: his current friends were not good for him and he had to get away from them somehow.

The phone rang while his mind drifted in thought, snapping him back to the empty, slightly messy apartment he was in.
"Hello?" Cream answered.
"Fil'! Ya dickwad! What's up?!" It was Jason, and he was definitely not sober in any sense of the way.
"Enjoying a quiet time alone away from you guys, I guess."
"Ahaha, of course you are . . . man, you missed a hell of a party!"
"I'm sure I did."
"Well, we're comin' back for a sec - you want us to get you too?"
"Nah, that's cool, I'll just be here."
"Alright, whatever . . . hey, while you're having your quiet time, don't forget where the kleenexes are, okay?"

Cream hung up the phone after hearing the comment. Thinking back to the day downtown, he wished he had done more to the younger man than just throw him onto the grass . . .

Leaning back in his chair, he thought back to that day like he was always finding himself doing. If nothing else, Candace's expression remained burned in his mind and dared to haunt him. True, it wasn't anything they had never done in the past, and Cream had instigated more than his fair share of harrassment towards the fairer sex. But this particular time, though . . . it wasn't just some noisy girl in a bar or a scantily dressed, nameless person on the street. He shared a drink with her and several others and knew her as a friend of a friend. He stopped a thief from taking her purse and was filled with a great sense of gratification for helping her. That the other instance had to happen right afterwards left a feeling which simply did not sit well in him at all . . .

Again, Cream's hands moved faster than he could thoroughly think about them, and found himself job-searching again. This time, though, he was typing in specific occupations. The first search, "security", produced few results, mostly being just private areas downtown which also paid very little.

His next search which redirected him to government websites produced more for him. Work in the army reserves not only paid well, but also gave him a place to live and be well taken care of. He continued going through the advertisements lauding the military, citizen soldiers and all the benefits it held . . . and yet even this was not for him. To give it all up, leave town for months and begin such a commitment also just seemed too large for him. His grandfather's stories about how soldiers could get did not help matters either. Running his hands through his hair once again, enjoying the feel of it compared to what would await in the service, Cream changed his search . . .

As the young man browsed over his newest search, he heard the door unlock and open. He twisted around in the seat to see Knight and the others wobble in through the door.
"Heeeey Fil'," Jones said as he lumbered into the living room, "ya miss us?"
"With every shot so far, yeah," Cream replied sharply. Jones laughed loud and sarcastically
"Aha, I get it, he's been trying to kill us . . ." As the others snickered and made their way to the couches, Jones came up behind Cream and rubbed his head vigourously. As Cream threw his hands up to shoo the larger man away, he caught a long whiff of Jones' shirt - there was definitely more than just alcohol in the boys tonight. Knowing that, Cream could only grumble more.

"So hey," Knight said from the couch, "I think it'd be nice for you to come back out with us. Y'know, something fun for the five of us, being friends and all . . ."
"Dude . . ." Cream replied, turning back around, " . . . . . not tonight."
"Hah, that's right!" Jason said in between kicking at Tim who was standing above him. "He's got e-porn to work at tonight!" Jason curled up as a fit of laughter overtook him; the others just snickered.

Cream had had enough. He stood up and walked over to the couches directly in the center of the others.
"Hey, Jay . . ." he said, slowly directing Tim out of the way. As Jason got a brief hold of his laughing, he looked up.
"Whadayawant, ya wanker?" he asked.

Cream grabbed him by the collar, hoisted him clean off the couch into a standing position, reached back with his right arm, and hooked his hand hard into other man's temple. It wasn't the first time he had ever violently punched someone, but after the many weeks of taking lessons on campus, he could feel the difference. He was springing off his back foot, his entire body was twisting, and his arm movements were precise and sharp. As the heavy slap of skin made contact, Jason fell to the side and crumpled unceremoniously on the couch.

Though Tim immediately began laughing, the others sat stunned at what they had just witnessed.
"Fil', what the piss what that for?!" Knight demanded. Cream was not listening, however, and was already through his bedroom door before his current roommate could finish speaking. Without a single moment of hesitation, Cream grabbed his backpack and began filling it with whatever articles of clothes he could reach. Grabbing his wallet and jacket, he shouldered his bag and briskly made his way to the front door. All around him, the others were in various states of awareness and reactivity. Jason was still dazed on the couch, effectively unconscious, Jones was above him trying to wake him up by slapping him in the face, and Tim was sitting in the chair next to them, just howling with unrefined amusement. Knight stood up and shot his eyes towards the other man who was putting on his shoes.

"I don't know what the piss you're trying to prove," he said, "but you're not putting yourself in an especially great situation."
"Well, my situation certainly can't get much worse than this," Cream replied with a smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna get some air before the stupidity infects me." As Cream opened the door and stepped through, Knight shouted to him once again.
"Off for another run, then?" This time, though, Cream stopped and turned back around.
"Hell yeah I am!" he proclaimed proudly. "Alright bitchfaces, maybe I'll see you guys later, maybe."


The moment the door closed, Tim made his way over to the computer and looked at the last screen Cream had open in the browser.
"The police academy?" he wondered to himself . . . .


Downstairs in the apartment lobby area, Cream held his phonebook in one hand while dialing the pay-phone with the other.

"Hello? Jimbo?" he said into the receiver. "Hey, it's Cream, what's up? Uh . . . . . oh, about Candace, I promise I'll explain that soon . . . . . . um, hey . . . . . do you and your cat want a new house guest for an undetermined amount of time?"


[Exposition is painful . . . even more than getting hooked in the side of the head . . . . . hopefully I didn't screw up . . .]
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Wednesday, July 20, 2005

   Cream Filling: Origins (Chapter VI)
[So clearly names like "Knight" and "Jones" and "Jason" aren't exactly food-themed like ALL of the other names I ever invent . . . in this particular case, they are true-to-life cameos of sorts for other people. Difference is, they're not from myO . . . two are people from my own teen years, while the other two are named for people others at this community have known. Regarding their people, they are people I absolutely despised (for different reasons, and one much, much more than the other); regarding mine, well . . . again, one has a much closer, personal thingy for me. Thus, these people represent our pasts and why it's not always such a bad thing to graduate and get away from such people . . .]


"Alright, so where the crap you guys wanna go first?" Tim asked as everyone got off the bus in the small downtown region.
"Let's . . . get . . . . drunk!" Jones sang out musically.
"We can do that later!" Cream objected. "I'm starving, man, let's get some food first . . ." Jason snickered immediately afterwards
"Yeah," the younger man added, "you know Fil' can't take it when he drinks on an empty stomach . . ." As everyone around him started to laugh at his expense, Cream quickly glared Jason in the eye.

"Hey guys," Cream said as they walked next to a small park area, "hold on a sec, I wanna show you something wicked . . ." As the curious group of males followed Cream off the sidewalk and onto the grass, Cream turned and faced them. "Okay, Jay', I want you to try to punch me in the face."
"What the piss are you talking about?" Jason answered back as the others began laughing.
"Come on, man, trust me . . . this is awesome . . . . ." Cream stepped his right foot back and loosened his arms out. "Alright, give me your best shot . . . . ."

Jason looked around the half-circle the others had formed around him. They were all nodding, encouraging him to get on with it. Once Jason saw Knight telling him to go, he shrugged, turned back to the waiting Cream and raised his hands into a fighting stance. He bounced a few times on the balls of his feet and quickly threw his right fist forward as quickly as he could.

Cream quickly swivelled his body to the side and grabbed Jason's arm as it came, hoisting it high over his own head. Immediately he twisted himself away, yanked the arm down and twisted his hips as hard as he could. Before he knew what was happening Jason was sailing over Cream's hips and impacting hard against the grass - Cream completed the demonstration with a loud, open-palm slap on Jason's chest.

"Haha! It totally works!" Cream cried out as the others exploded into a surprised burst of laughter.
"Holy hell!" Jones exclaimed. "Where the piss did you learn that?!"
"Oh, this place on campus," he explained. "Self-defence and other fancy junk like that. I've been playin' around with it for the last bit of the semester . . . but I'll tell you after I get some beef in me. Can we go eat now?"
"Alright," Knight said as the laughter finally died down, "we'll go to that diner place and get some food and then go to the pub once we're done there."

As the five of them made their way to the dineresque restaurant further down the way, conversation generally drifted towards recent adventures and achievements. For the most part, Cream stayed relatively silent during the conversations.
"So yeah," Jason said to Tim, "you think you can hook me up with some more before the weekend?"
"Shouldn't be too hard, yeah," Tim answered back. "Just pay me as soon as you finish pimping yourself in the men's room."
"Oh, piss off . . ." At the youngest's expense yet again, the money-related ribbing continued.

"Oh, that reminds me," Knight said as they came in sight of the diner, "Fil', I'm gonna need your share of the rent money really soon, so get that to me right away."
"Oh, right . . ." Cream said as his mind came back to the conversation. "Uh . . . . yeah, I'll get that to ya once I can . . ." He looked down and away as he pondered his money situation - with school and such, his income was not especially good.
"Fil', you okay?" Knight asked once his roommate slowly drifted back into his own mind.
"Huh? Oh, I'm fine, really," he lied as the others continued the conversation without him - money problems were not the only things weighing on his mind.

Cream was jarred violently out of his thoughts when he felt a hand jerk on the back of his collar.
"Yo, Fil', wake up," Jones said, releasing the other man, "you started walking right past the door." Looking over, Cream felt embarrassed to think he almost completely passed the diner. "Retard," Jones shot in quickly.
"Oh, kiss my . . . huh?" Cream interrupted his speech when he heard his name being called from across the street.

Searching across the traffic, he found the source of his suspicions.
"Hey! Cream! Over here!" It was Candace.
"Hey!" Cream shouted back, waving, "The hell are you doing here?"
"What the hell do you think I'd be doing here?" she sarcastically called back while swinging a couple shopping bags over her head. "What kind of an ass question is-"

Before she could finish her sentence, someone grabbed her purse from over her other arm and shouldered her to the ground. The thief immediately darted across the somewhat sparse walkway, bumping into anyone in his way.

Cream didn't even have time to think before he immediately ran across the street through the stopped traffic and gave chase. He sprinted hard against the purse-snatcher, pumping his body for all it was worth. The man had a little more than half a block's headstart on him, but Cream was already flying down the sidewalk catching up bit by bit. When he came within meters of the thief, it finally dawned on Cream that he didn't even know why it was that he gave chase, let alone why was trying to hard to catch the man. Whatever the reason, though, Cream was determined to bring the man down . . . . .

After almost four blocks of running, Cream was able to brush his fingers against the man's back. The moment he did, the thief quickly spun around and swung the purse at his pursuer's head. Again, Cream did not even have time to think before he noted the swing of the man's arm. He reached out and grabbed the man's jacket sleeve; with his continuing forward momentum he jumped forward, raising his knee while cinching the seized arm down.

As they both fell to the pavement, Cream decided that the outcome of the conflict was credited to luck more than anything else: he blindly shot his knee up and he had simply happened to drive it hard under the man's sternum. Taking a short moment to reflect on what he had just done, Cream exhaled, retrieved the purse, and jogged his way back to the diner area while shouting news of his victory proudly.

Cream could see that everyone else had already gathered on the other side of the street as he came to the same block. He was slightly out of breath, but very much glowing with excitement.
"Miss Estevez," he said upon returning Candace's purse, "I believe this is yours."
"Cream," Candace replied, "that was perhaps the dumbest yet utterly coolest freakin' thing I had ever seen! Thank you so much!" Regaining his breath, Cream could only look back and smile.
"It was fun, I gotta say," he said, "I mean, he took a swipe at me and everything, and I took him down without a scratch and without like . . . y'know . . . fighting dirty or anything."
"And you left him to get away?" Knight asked from slightly outside the circle of people.
"Well . . . he was pretty much unconscious. I didn't feel like stickin' around . . ."

"Well," Candace said as her smile widened, "thanks again. Heh . . . Jimbo's gonna love hearing how his classmate is also a hero of sorts . . ."
"Ah, you don't hafta do that . . ." Cream responded. "I mean, if you want to, I won't stop you. I'm just saying you don't have to . . ."

"Eheh, that's right," Jones said as he stepped closer to both of them, "you can just thank him privately!" Several of the others chuckled at the comment; Cream froze on the spot and looked at the large man completely alarmed.
"Yeah, I think it's only fair," Tim said as he circled around behind Cream, "I mean, I've never seen this guy do anything this nice for a girl before! I think he wants you, y'know . . ." Candace was starting to feel nervous as the men all closed in around them. Cream was completely at a loss for words as the others continued.
"Uhm, I don't . . ." Candace muttered before Jason chimed in abruptly.
"Heck yeah! Someone here deserves to score for cleaning up this crapbucket of a town!"

"Hey!" Cream seethed through his teeth. "Will you dicks shut the hell-"
"So whadayasay, cutie?" Jones said, stepping right in front of Candace, "is Fil' worthy of your thanks?" Candace was visibly shaking by that point, and quickly ducked out and away from the others.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "but . . . . . but I've gotta go. Uh, Cream, uh . . . . . yeah." With that, she turned around and walked away as briskly as she could. The other guys, meanwhile, were calling to her, begging her to come back. Once she was around the corner, the boys started laughing uncontrollably.

"What a shame," Jason said, slapping Cream on the back as the others howled, "you might have been able to tap that if you had tried a bit harder . . ." Cream immediately grabbed at Jason's hand off his back and threw it back at him.
"What the piss was that all about?!" he shouted before shoving the younger man away.
"What? We were just goofin' around," Jason replied.
"Yeah Fil'," Tim added, "see, this is what we're talkin' about!" Cream stepped forward directly into Tim's face.
"See?! This is the kind of sh-"

"Hey!" Knight shouted, getting everyone's attention. "Forget it, okay? It's over, it's done with. Let's just hurry up and get some food." Cream scoffed and turned his back to everyone.
"I'm not friggin' hungry anymore . . . . ."
"Yeah," Knight replied, "well it was you who wanted to get food, and we all walked the extra distance away from the pub so you could get some food, and this was all to cater to . . ."
"Alright! Let's go friggin' eat then, ya jackasses!" he shouted before stomping back across the street to the diner. Once his back was again facing the others, Cream squeezed his eyes closed and tightened up his fists. His pulse was racing and he was uncomfortable in every manner possible.

Narrowly missed by an oncoming car, Cream spun around and fell against a street lamp on the other side of the road. As the noise around him hazed up his senses, he could only think of the fear and shame in Candace Estevez's face before she ran away. As he braced himself against the street lamp, Cream could only question himself as to why he had not done the same months earlier . . .


[Man . . . . . who knew I could write so heavy?! What happened to the fun and cheerful Cream Filling & Nougat we all grew up with?!?!]
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Monday, July 18, 2005

   Cream Filling: Origins (Chapter V)
[Ah . . . and now that we've had a nice mid-story action sequence, we can wind down with a little long-windedness! Uosh!]


Aside from the odd student or staff member walking past, the office hallway was empty and quiet. It was natural, Cream knew, because classes were going on, and only department specific students would even need to walk through this particular hall. With a yawn, Cream stretched his body forward before slumping back against the wall - whoever was in the office next to him was taking a very long time speaking with the prof'. From what he could hear it sounded like the student was someone from a class different from his. Despite that, he continued to eavesdrop on the conversation as best he could - with the quiet hall, there was very little else for him to do while he waited.

Another ten minutes passed, and the student finally came out of the office. The girl looked like someone from a year or two above him, and Cream gave a quick smile as she walked by. The girl returned a smile out of courtesy, though she nevertheless turned away quickly after seeing the younger student's face. Cream sighed and shook his head quickly before entering for the professor's office hour.

"Hey Professor Sauru," he said with a smile as he humbly entered the professor's office while she filed something into a cabinet.
"Hello, just one second," she said before pushing the drawer closed. "Alright, so what can I . . . yikes!" Cream closed his eyes and nodded along. He wasn't surprised in the least at the professor's reaction; under his eyes were a plethora of various cuts and swollen bruises from the parking lot brawl the day before. "Do I want to know what happened to you?"
"Oh, you know," Cream replied with a joking manner, "just your everyday fistfight with people who don't know how to shut up . . ." As he laughed about it, Sauru couldn't help but smile.
"Right, right . . . I should see the other guy, right?"
"Yeah, that's right . . ."

"So Whip, what can I do for ya?" she asked. Cream laughed quietly as he sat down in the chair opposite the professor and dropped his backpack between his feet.
"I don't think anyone else has ever used 'Whip' before . . ."
"Yeah, and you're stuck with it now . . . so what's up?" Cream leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
"So yeah, about that essay proposal . . ."

"The one for the essay due within the month?" Professor Sauru queried.
"Um . . . yeah," Cream said, looking sheepish. The professor nodded and grinned.
"Uh huh . . . . . let me guess, you always meant to get around to office hours but just couldn't get around to it, right?"
"Something like that, yeah . . ." Cream was visibly fidgeting in his seat, and Professor Sauru knew it.
"Well, better late than never . . . so what are we gonna do about this?" Cream cleared his throat and pulled out his clipboard with the outlines and essay questions for the course.
"Alright, so this is sorta what I wanna do . . ."

Cream spent the next few minutes explaining his idea for his Philosophy term paper.
". . . and yeah," he said as he wrapped up, "I think these particular war films have a lot of instances of Hobbesian thinking, and it shows that people do take this mindset even today . . . . . and stuff . . ."

Professor Sauru just stared at her student without speaking for a moment.
"Are you gonna be able to fill two thousand words with that?" she asked almost rhetorically.
"I think I could, yeah," Cream answered as confidently as he could fake. Sauru grinned once again.
"Thinking and doing are very different things, Whip . . . you should be able to appreciate that by now in this course."
"I know . . ." The professor could plainly see the dejection in the young man's eyes as she spoke to him.
"Alright . . . the topic works, the movies you mentioned could have some good stuff." Cream nodded along attentively. "Just hit me with an awesome 'why' explanation and this could work . . . . . oh, and make it a damn good 'why', or you might feel sad when I give you back your mark."

"Hey," Cream said, breaking the professor's speech, "it's not like I planned on writing a half-assed paper or something."
"And yet," Sauru responded, "here you are with your essay proposal now instead of a month ago or so . . ." From below the professor's line of sight, Cream cracked his knuckles and tensed his hands.
"Professor, with all due respect . . ."
"Respect, eh?" she interrupted, a wide grin still present on her face. "I enjoy respect as much as the next guy, but don't you think you should take some more time respecting your own needs instead of my ability to give you a letter on a transcript?" Cream scowled briefly upon hearing the question, but let it face just as quickly.
"What?" he said, trying to get a hold of the situation.

"You wanna go with what instead of why?" she said as she continued. "Alright . . . tell me Whip, what's keeping you from really kicking ass in this class?" Cream could only sit stunned and completely unable to answer back - his knuckle-cracking resumed. "Look, Cream, you're a bright guy. I know this because you flaunt it before us each class . . ."
"Is this something you're really supposed to ask me?!" he shot back.
"Not really, but Arts Advising is full of butts these days . . . feel like giving me an answer?"
"I don't think any of this is your business," Cream huffed as he pushed his chair back from the desk slightly.
"Oh, well," she said, the grin ever constant on her face, "this pertains to a paper I get paid to grade so it's definitely my business."

Cream shot up from the chair and slammed his palms onto Professor Sauru's desk.
"What the piss do you want from me?!" he shouted as he looked down at his professor - and yet she continued smiling.
"You know, Whip, violent death can be looked at metaphorically as well . . . I might not be able to take your life, but I'm definitely takin' something from ya right now to get you so scared, aren't I?"
"What, I'm afraid of you?!" he spat out sarcastically.
"Maybe not me precisely," Professor Sauru answered, "but you're definitely afraid of somethin' that you're gonna hafta figure out . . . . . 'cause you know what'll happen if you don't do something about this, right?"
"What?"
"Nothin' . . . which is what you're gonna have if you keep this up."

Cream slammed his hands against the desk once again.
"This is ridiculous . . . how the piss is this supposed to help me?!" he shouted as he paced back and forth between the small distance between the desk and the door. By that point, Sauru knew she had to take a new approach and stood up.
"Okay Whip, I'll tell you what . . ." she said as she walked around the irate student and closed the door to her office. As she walked around, Cream couldn't help but notice that the professor wore runners which definitely did not match the dress pants above them. After closing the door and walking back around her office, the professor rolled up the sleeves to her blouse before facing Cream once again.

She stepped to a distance about a meter away from her student.
"We're gonna play a fun game that I think you'll like," she said. Cream, puzzled once again, wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Listening? Okay . . . Whip, you're pissed off and seriously need to let off some steam . . . . . so I'm gonna give you three shots . . ." Cream chuckled in bemusement.
"You've gotta be kidding me . . ."
"Nah, not at all," Professor Sauru replied while shaking her arms out loosely. "Don't worry, I'll try to block . . . so come on, Whip, three punches, let's see 'em . . . unless you don't like the idea of hitting a girl like we can't take it?"

Like a reflex, Cream snarled his lip and jabbed sharply at Sauru's face; she pulled her head back just far enough for him to miss.
"That's one," she counted, grinning once again. Cream huffed another time and threw a wild swing for her head; again, she pulled her head back and with her free hand swatted the punch away and down.
"That's two, and you telegraph way too much," she added before laughing quietly and sticking her tongue out at her student. With a harsh growl, Cream pulled back and threw his entire body into a cross shot towards the professor's face once again. This time, however, Sauru sidestepped the blow, tossed her arms up and around Cream's arm, and twisted him around and downwards until his face was neatly pressed against the top of her desk. Remembering his previous bruises and cuts, Cream could only grunt as he was held fast. Once he knew he was not getting up unless she let him, he took his free hand and tapped on the desk repeatedly.

"A body's only as good as the mind that guides it . . ." the professor said as she released the young man. ". . . and that mind is only useful if you do something productive with it." Cream rubbed his harm vigorously as he listened. "That should have come out a lot cooler than I said it, but hey, I picked Philosophy, not Literature." Upon hearing such a ridiculous statement, Cream looked up and saw his grinning professor once again - he couldn't help but laugh.

"Ah, it's a shame I'm probably gonna lose my scholarship because of low grades," he said, "I'll never get to hear more gems like that from ya . . ." Professor Sauru laughed in return, and patted the man on the back.

The bell rang in the building, meaning classes were out and the next block was arriving soon.
"Give me a great paper on time, okay?" she asked as she opened the door for the other occupant in the office. Cream nodded earnestly.
"I'll be sure not to disappoint," he said before picking up his bag from the ground and heading through the door.

Halfway through the door, Cream stopped himself and turned back around.
Hey," he started, "that thing you did . . . . . how did you . . ."
"Tuesday and Thursday nights, at the International House on campus," she answered back. "They have drop-in classes that actually aren't too expensive. I mean, if you're into that sort of thing."
"Can't have girls kicking my ass all my life, can I?" Cream said before smiling and leaving for the stream of people now walking through the hall.


[Some of you who know me may recognise that "Braveheart" saying that I love to tell people (it's so true, though!). Ahhh . . . . . heh, so yeah, don't you guys just love Professor Aurus? Erm, I mean . . . . . eheh . . . . .]
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Saturday, July 16, 2005

   Cream Filling: Origins (Chapter IV)
[Basically, I live in a small city. And we have a Boston Pizza. And that Boston Pizza is basically the only licensed restaurant in the city that stays open well past midnight. That said, it's basically the one restaurant you can always go to and end up running into people from high school . . . whether you want to or not . . .]


"Ah, he's running late again," Cream muttered after checking his watch for the fourth time, "typical bastard . . ."
"Man, you've got some serious issues with that guy, don't ya?" Tim asked from across the table. Cream just leaned back in the booth and rested his head on his propped up hand.
"And you don't?" he asked back.
"Well Fil', that's why I don't live with him. 'Sides, I thought you guys were best friends." As he listened to Tim's words, Cream could only roll his eyes.
"Best friends lately? I'm . . . yeah, I'm not so sure about that one, man . . ."

It was early evening and the sun was still hanging in the sky. The plan was to get some food at Boston Pizza and then figure out what to do after that.
"But seriously," Cream said, "we planned for six, and it's almost six-thirty and we're still the only two guys here." Tim laughed, amused at the other man's discontent.
"Hey, your damn school is like, three blocks away from here. The building that I'm tearing down is about four. Those other guys are quite a bit farther away than that." Cream nodded along, accepting Tim's reasoning as the man continued. "Also, Jonesy-boy is probably picking them all up, so he has to drive back and forth to get them . . ."
"Alright, alright," Cream said as he motioned for no more, "I get it. I'll shut up . . ."

The waitress came down with another two bottles of cheap lager as the two conversed.
"Alright," Tim said after taking a long sip from his beer, "why the hell are you so pissed off at Knight right now?" Cream rolled his eyes again as he thought about all the reasons he could try to bring up. Taking his glass away from his lips, he took a deep breath.
"The guy . . . he's just really rubbing me the wrong way in almost every way. He takes things way too personally, acts like he somehow understands the world better than me . . . friggin' stank up the apartment with that damn stuff you guys love . . ." Tim chuckled upon hearing the last bit.
"Heh, oh yeah," he said, "I remember Knight saying something about blazing up a few days ago . . . eheh . . ."
"Hey, ass," Cream said, looking Tim dead in the eye, "I don't care if you think I'm right or whatever, but you wanted to know why I was pissed off at him, so I told ya."
"Fil', you gotta lighten up. It's not like he walked over your rug and took a sh-"

Tim was interrupted abruptly by an explosion of laughter from the table a level above them. Looking over, the two men saw three others enjoying the tail end of their meal; a near-empty pitcher explained the rest.
"Damn morons . . ." Tim grumbled as he looked over the railing at people he hadn't seen since senior year of high school. "Friggin' Dimitri Thompson and those other two retard friends of his . . ." Cream could only remember them too well. They were part of the popular clique in high school who basically thought little of everyone else; that, he could have forgiven, except they were also rather cruel towards the ones they considered lesser. Tim continued grumbling as he eyed them angrily. "I always wanted to punch that son of a bitch in the teeth ever since that day he threw a basketball at the back of my head . . ."

Cream could think of quite a few reasons to dislike them as well.
"That dickwad Trevor sat behind me in Biology in grade eleven," he said. "He pissed the hell outta me all semester, I swear . . . just because he could . . . . ." Cream trailed off just as they laughed again, disrupting the peace of the restaurant before ordering another pitcher.
"Alright Fil'," Tim said, "I'm tellin' ya now, if those bitches don't shut up, I'm gonna friggin' kill them . . ."

Immediately after the words left his mouth, the three former classmates all erupted once again. Tim could not take it any longer and got out from his seat.
"Hey!" he shouted, "Will you dicks shut the hell up?!"
"Hey, kiss my ass!" Dimitri shouted back. Similar shouts rang out from his friends while Tim soaked it all up. The verbal exchange escalated quickly and before long Tim was cursing all manner of obscenity at the other table. Cream just dropped his head back, wishing everyone would be quiet.

"Excuse me," a server said upon coming over to them, "I have to ask you to calm down and be quiet. You're disturbing the other diners."
"I'm disturbing the others?!" Tim exclaimed, "what about those other dicks over . . ."
"We're handling them, sir," she replied quickly, "but please, you need to sit back down . . ." Tim cursed sharply to himself and started to sit back down. Cream looked up at him and just shook his head; it was far from the first time he had ever seen Tim so up in arms. But, for a moment, it did seem like he was going to let it go for the time being.

Then he saw Dimitri's upright finger.

"Alright you son of a bitch! You wanna go?!" he screamed out as he bolted back out of his seat. Dimitri and his friends were meanwhile laughing and returning similar words. By that point, the assistant manager of the restaurant was out on the floor.
"Alright, sir," he said while looking Tim straight on, "I'm going to have to ask you and your party to leave . . ."
"No! Hell no!" Tim responded. "Those sons of bitches accosted us first, and . . ."
"They're leaving too," the manager said, never looking away from the distraught man. "Please leave now . . ."

With a final curse, Tim kicked the side of the booth and stormed towards the door - Cream followed behind quickly. Once they were both outside in the parking lot, Tim was wound up extremely tight.
"Alright, so what do we do in the meantime?" Cream asked, trying to calm his friend down.
"I'll tell you what the piss we're gonna do!" he answered, "we're gonna stand here and wait for those dicks to come out here so we can beat the piss out of them!" The adrenaline was coursing through Tim's blood, and Cream knew there was no other way around it. Taking a deep breath, he cracked out his knuckles and waited.

Dimitri and his friends came out soon after.
"Well well, here are a couple sad sons of bitches I haven't seen in a while," he said as he other two chuckled from behind him.
"Dimitri, you friggin' asshole," Tim said, his teeth grinding, "I hope you don't have anything else to do tonight . . ."
"What, you dicks wanna fight?" Dimitri asked while stepping forward with his chest out. "If you wanna get hurt that badly, then sure."
"Why, 'cause you have one more guy than us?" Tim questioned back before stepping right up into the opposite man's face. "If that's it, then all we hafta do is put one of you down first . . ."

With those words, Tim shoved first. As Dimitri stepped forward to return the shove, Tim had already thrown a wild punch that bounced off the side of the other man's head. As Dimitri staggered backwards, the other two stepped forward and attacked. Cream finally reacted and charged at Trevor who was on his side, grabbing him by the shirt and throwing him to the side.

Trevor stepped around in the circle he was led and quickly pushed at Cream's chest, knocking him away briefly. The college student grinned as he squared off against the larger man.
"I gotta tell ya man," he said, "I've been wanting to do this for a while . . ." Cream immediately lunged forward, striking Trevor's forearms before quickly darting back away from the counter-punch. As Cream circled around, he glanced back at Tim quickly to see how he was doing. Tim seemed to be trading blows with the other two men at an almost equal standing, and was definitely nowhere near letting up.

Sure of his friend's safety at the moment, Cream looked back at his own opponent, and continued to dart in as often as he could to get a fist in. He was getting several glancing blows onto the other man's face, but most were from too far a distance to truly make much of an impact. Frustrated, especially when he noticed Tim and the other had fallen over each other, Cream took a deeper step in and hooked towards the man's ribs.

The moment his fist connected with Trevor's side, Cream felt something dig deep into his stomach and actually lift him off the ground slightly. Immediately, the slightly panicked Cream jumped back to regain his composure - unfortunately, Trevor had already grabbed his jacked sleeve. With a tug, the larger man pulled Cream back with one hand and threw a hard cross to the cheek with the other. Cream lost his footing and fell to the concrete hard. In his haze, he was just able to see Tim getting pulled off Dimitri by the third man before his vision shook from a hard kick to his stomach. Before the next kick came, Cream rolled away as best he could. The stomach blows had taken their toll, though, and he simply did not have the resources to truly escape. As Trevor's foot skipped across the top of his head, Cream could only curl up as best as he could, covering his head with his hands . . .

The kicks continued for what seemed like an hour, drilling at every angle with every second. From listening to the voices around him, it sounded like Tim was in just as bad of a situation, if not worse . . .

The voices suddenly changed, the battering kicks stopped. When Cream finally had the sense to open his eyes, he saw Jones manhandling Trevor; he lifted him up by the back of the neck and was already holding his body open for Knight to deliver a hard uppercut which sent him to the ground dazed.
"Fil', get your ass up and make sure his ass stays down!" Knight shouted while he, Jones, and Jason ran over to Tim. Cream still couldn't truly get up, but through force of will rolled himself over to Trevor's downed body. With a short surge of energy, Cream pressed his forearm across the other man's throat; with his free hand, he dropped as many fists down onto his old classmate's face until his stamina ran dry.

Within the minute, Jones hoisted Cream off the ground and braced his body up. Dimitri and his other friend were bleeding and motionless on the ground, and Tim was already up on his feet shouting the last of his curses out.
"Fil', you okay?" Knight said to the battered Cream.
"I'll . . . . . I'll live, man," he croaked out, clutching his side. "T-t . . . took you asses long enough to get here . . ."

Before Knight could say anything, the other three were quick to happily laugh at the comment. Knight, upon seeing their reaction, smiled as well.
"Man, you suck at fighting . . ." he said with a grin. Cream grinned back and rolled his eyes.
"Ah shaddup . . ." he said before dropping his head down and taking his eyes away from his roommate's. "Can we just leave here already?"


[It's fun to beat these guys up . . . I'm so mean . . . . . and I gotta say, one of the hardest things about this particular story has to be the swearing. Because young people like to swear, but I don't write "full-blown" swear-words in these stories. And I can't get away with cute replacement-curses because that takes away from it . . . . . ah, the troubles, I say. The troubles . . .]
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Thursday, July 14, 2005

   Cream Filling: Origins (Chapter III)
[To put your minds at ease, in last day's chapter I forced cameos from Aurus, Mimmi, Duo, Rusty (more or less), Beyblader, Evil, Shadowlight, and Sahkiryce. Erm . . . more or less.]


Cream walked through the hallway to his apartment slowly. He had a slight bounce in his step from the drinks which had all but worn off. Still, the bounce was offset by the weight he felt in his chest - Knight was not an especially kind man to those whom he considered offensive. And there was no doubt about it, Cream did feel pretty bad about ditching his friends to hang out with the others on campus. As he turned the key in his door, he exhaled slowly and pushed the door in.

The moment he stepped into the entrance, his first breath was offset by a quick yet instantly recognisable cough. Immediately all feelings of regret and contrition faded and turned to great annoyance as the pungent air swirled towards the open doorway. Quickly closing the door back up, Cream kicked off his shoes and paced directly into the living room and into the source of the smoke.

"Dude! What the piss are you doing?!" Cream shouted as he made his way towards Knight, who was lying across the large couch. Splayed across the coffee tables were a metal pipe and ashtray; the contents of the plastic bag next to those items completed the portrait of the young student's fury.
"Oh," Knight responded back quietly as he rose to a sitting position, "hello to you too, ass."
"Cut the crap, man!" Cream growled back. "You know I hate having to smell this friggin' stuff in the house. What the hell?!"

"Yeah, well," Knight answered, the sarcasm rolling off every word, "I remember how we all - old friends since god knows how long - once had a deal that we were gonna do something tonight . . ." Cream could only stand completely dumbstruck with the situation. ". . . but then when one of us decided this sort of thing wasn't important to him, everyone else said 'screw it, I'm just gonna stay home tonight' and we did jack all. But thanks for trying, Fil', you know that's why we all love you . . . even if you do slap us all in the faces like this now and then . . ."

"Now and then, huh?" Cream said as he made his way over to the chair to the side of the couch and plopped himself down quickly. Immediately he almost had to gag again as the smoke cut its way through his system. "Don't tell me you've never missed a planned thing with us before, man. You've friggin' sold us out more than enough times for your own fair share, so don't go telling me off like you're on some sort of moral high ground." Knight closed his eyes and nodded his head back and forth.
"Uh huh, uh huh . . . so you're saying that turnabout is fair play, then?"
"Hey, I'm sorry, okay?!"
"Oh yeah, I'm sure you are . . ."

Cream dragged his hands along the sides of his head, forcing himself to keep his composure. Knight lowered his brow a little as he looked his old friend over.
"So, this school-related thing of yours," he started, "was it mostly the drinking, or was that more of anther thing on the side of the main thing?" Cream jerked straight up in the chair.
"What?"
"Come on man, you know your eyes totally give you away no matter how long it's been." As Knight finished his sentence, Cream closed his eyes and sighed - it didn't matter how much he argued back now. He was beaten.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said after taking a few more deep breaths despite the smoke, "I can't make any good excuse, but it happened and . . . and for piss' sakes, don't act like I friggin' drove a knife into your back or something!" Knight laughed a little as he listened. Of course, Cream knew the laugh was for anything but honest amusement.
"That's rich . . ." he muttered as he leaned forward to his pipe and picked it up.
"Oh, don't you dare . . ."
"What?" Knight asked with a cruel smile, "don't I dare what, ruin your night?"

The moment the end of the pipe touched Knight's lips, Cream stood straight up.
"Alright," he stated, "y'know what? Screw you. Smoke your crap and stink the hell out of the house, do whatever the piss you like . . ." Knight smiled and laughed softly as Cream walked back towards the door.
"Heeey, you just got home, Fil'. What gives?"
"Fresh air," Cream replied quickly as he stepped back into his shoes.
"What, this air's not good enough for ya? You're better than the rest of us somehow?"
"No, you dick!" Cream shouted, turning back towards his old friend, "Of course I'm not better than any of you guys!" Back in the living room, Cream could hear Knight laughing quietly again. Swearing to himself, the young man opened the door and stepped out.

"Running away again, ah?" Knight got in quickly before the door closed completely. Cream balled his fist and face tight and lashed out at the wall next to him, nearly skinning his knuckle against the wallpaper in the process.
"Yeah," he said quietly to himself. "I am running again . . . and like always, I'll come back and we'll act like nothing happened in the morning . . ."


Cream, angry and dejected, made his way down to the basement of the building where all the storage areas were. Coming to the closet assigned to him, he swore again when he remembered that he never grabbed the key to the padlock that hung in the kitchen. Breathing in the dusty air, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his keychain - on it were the old bits of wire he had long since kept at hand should their need ever be required.

Deftly as always, the young man picked the lock and opened the closet. A thick layer of dust had since collected on everything from the bike in the back to the boxes in the front. Cream fought back the coughs and opened the large cardboard box in front of him. He was glad to see that his memory had not escaped him, and with a brief grin he pulled out the wooden box of mementos from his grandfather. For the past few years of his life long before he moved out of his parents' home, sentimentality was never high on the young man's priorities. And yet, for some reason that night he felt a strange urge to just look at the contents of the small box.

Inside was a small collection of insignia that his grandfather had collected as a military police officer in his youth. He remembered that he always enjoyed his grandfather's stories because oftentimes they involved beating up drunken soldiers who simply did not know better than to resist the man. Going through the decorations and citations, Cream could only feel worse considering how little he had actually done with his life. He knew he was still young, but he also knew that his grandfather was already overseas at his age.

Cream's mouth was quickly becoming dry, reminding him again of what sorts of things he considered to be important in life. Drinking, fighting, and petty thieving - none of it was anything in which he could truly take pride. As the thoughts ran through his head, he looked back down at the illustrious career he held in his hands. With a snarl, he threw the box back into the closet and slammed the door closed. As he clicked the padlock back into place, Cream looked down the wall of storage closets. As if by reflex, he looked across the line of padlocks and immediately took out his wire bits. One by one, he picked and unlocked each closet and moved on, leaving the open padlocks dangling in their rings. After almost five minutes, by the time he reached the end, he looked back down at his handiwork and found an understanding. Finally having found a way to release his frustrations, Cream took a cleansing breath and opened his eyes back to the many doors he had just unlocked . . . . . and of those doors, he knew there was nothing in his future behind any of them.

The young man quickly went back along the storage closets, latching all the padlocks he had picked open. Once the final closet was locked and secure once again, he stepped back out of the storage room and into the basement hallway.


[Now . . . I wrote at this for a long time. I wonder how long it actually is . . . . .]
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Tuesday, July 12, 2005

   Cream Filling: Origins (Chapter II)
[I must say, as much as I enjoy writing dialogue, writing clever, signature-style dialogue for different "groups" of people is probably the trickiest part to it. Buuuut, we'll see what happens . . .]


"So," Professor Sauru continued as she paced back across the front of the small lecture room, "the idea is that we don't think all people are bad, but enough are so that we can't trust everybody." A selection of hands rose from the desks opposite from her. "Yes, Marlene."
"I can understand where he's coming from," Marlene said. "I mean, I had two deadbolts on my front door before we moved . . . . . but is it really possible for anyone to distrust so many people so much of the time?" Prof. Sauru smirked.
"Any takers?" she asked. A hand came up in the back. "Let's hear it . . ."

"Clearly," Cream started, "Hobbes did not have very many friends." As he expected, he got a quick mirthful response from his classmates. "I mean sure, in a time when queens were being imprisoned and executed by their relatives I'd probably be kinda worried of some jacknut shivving me in the street too . . . but still, to actually sit down and write this big-assed thing about it? That's some serious life issues there . . ." The class had another good laugh as always from the remark.

"Alright Cream, so let me ask you this," Sauru said. "Do you not fear violent death?"
"No more than I have to," Cream answered back. Sauru smirked.
"So then tell me, why do you sit in the back of the class?" By now just about everyone in the room had turned around to the student in the spotlight.
"Is this an ethical question?" he asked.
"You want ethics, you take 303 with Professor Duonam. This is my class . . . unless you're just afraid that your answering of that question would lead to the end of your solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short life?" The noise in the room rose exponentially, goading the young man into answering.

"Alright then," he said with a smirk, "we'll say sitting here gives me a nice vantage point to learn everyone's fears so that I may blackmail everyone into allowing me to be the sovereign over all their rights." The class erupted once again . . .

"Okay," Professor Sauru said once the room had calmed down enough, "with that, I guess I'll say we're done for the day. And Whip . . ." Cream looked up, assuming she meant him, ". . .thanks for wasting all our time so cleverly and gloriously." Once the final round of laughter ceased, the professor ended her class. "So yeah, don't forget, essay proposals are due next Monday, don't take too long with 'em . . ."


"Well, you certainly had a hold of yourself today," Jimbo commented as he stepped out of the room with Cream.
"Felt like a good day, I dunno," he said back. "Apartment was empty pretty much all night, was able to fall asleep nice and quickly, I actually got over six hours of sleep . . . it was pretty nice." As they spoke, they made their way out of the crowded building's hallways and into the open air of the small campus.
"You're lucky. My idiot cat Pepé kept me up . . . but yeah, actually getting six hours of sleep . . ." Jimbo pondered. "I thought you were a Biology major, don't you have to study?" Cream cocked his eyebrow and looked the other student dead in the eye.
"Yup." After a very brief silence, Cream broke his composure and a wide grin cracked across his face - Jimbo did likewise. "What, I was drunk last night . . ."

The two of them were walking their way towards the student union building when Jimbo's cel phone rang.
"Oh, I bet that's the others," he said before flipping the bottom of the phone open. As Jimbo spoke with his friend, Cream just looked around at the scenery of the small college. "'Kay," Jimbo said once he finished his call, "Blade and the others are apparently waiting outside the pizza place in the SUB, so we can meet 'em there." Cream took a double-take quickly as they walked.
"Hold on, we?" he asked, "I was heading to the bus . . ."
"Oh, just come along for a bit, man . . ."
"Your powers of peer pressure will not work on me, boy!"
"So I'm a little rusty, sue me . . . now come on . . ."

Cream shook his head lightly and followed along.
"I don't think I can stick around for long anyway," he said, "if I actually wanna score some decent grades on my midterm on Friday and actually have a chance at keeping my scholarship, I'm gonna need to actually study a bit."
"Uh huh," Jimbo followed up, "but you know you won't tonight anyway."
". . . that's besides the point . . ."

The moment they entered the SUB, Jimbo's friends were in plain sight.
"Hey!" Candace called out as she ran towards the two men. "What took you bitchfaces?" Jimbo grinned and backed up as Candace leaped at him.
"Our legs, apparently," he answered, elliciting a groan from the others.

"So Cream," Jimbo said, "you've now met Candace." Cream, somewhat taken aback by the girl's energy, quickly greeted her as best he could. Looking back up, a line of several new faces stood before him. "So everyone, this is Cream, that guy from my Philosophy class . . . Cream, I'd like you to meet Blade, Leta, and Cerise." After another quick wave, Cream smiled once again.

"So," Leta said after a short awkward silence, "We hear you're a pretty interesting guy to listen to."
"Is that what this idiot's been telling you guys?" Cream asked back, bringing out more laughter from the others.
"Heh, yeah," Blade said, cutting in, "and from what I understand, Cerise has been looking forward to meetin' ya. Isn't that right, 'Reese?"
"Oh, shut up . . ." Cerise shot back.

"Anyway," Jimbo said, "we're goin' to the OB downstairs for drinks. You should come, man."
"I dunno, I told some people I'd do something with them tonight," Cream said, as he looked around at the hopeful faces all around him.
"Screw them," Blade said emphatically, "you can meet new and exciting people this way."
"Yeah," Candace added, "and they're old friends from high school too, I bet?" Cream nodded.
"What are you, psychic?" he jokingly asked.
"Damn straight! Candace Merina Estevez knows all and sees all!" More laughter ensued. "But yeah, if they're old friends then they'll understand." All around the young man, Jimbo's friends egged and encouraged.
"Oh, fine . . . . Jim', give me your phone for a sec . . ."

Cream quickly went outside and dialed the number for home.
"Hello?" Knight answered from the other end.
"Hey, it's me," Cream responded.
"What's up?"
"Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna be able to make it tonight, man."
"Oh? Why?"
"Some people here, need to talk to them, school-related."
"What the piss, man? You didn't say anything about this before."
"Well, it just sorta came up just now . . ."
"Well, how long could this take?"
" . . . yeah, don't expect me back before dinner or anything . . ."
"So what you're saying is that you're spending the whole night out with these other people from school instead of hanging out with us like you had planned?"
"No, wait . . ."
"Yeah, whatever . . . . ."

Before Cream could add anything more, Knight had already hung up. Feeling exceptionally guilty, he quietly went back into the SUB.
"Well, that sucked . . . but yeah, let's go."
"Aww . . . they'll be okay, I promise you!" Leta said assuringly. Cream just grinned oddly.
"Yeah . . . . . by the way, that's an interesting accent you have . . ."


[For the record, Hobbes is a dork. Eheh . . . so, who can spot the cameos?]
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Sunday, July 10, 2005

   Cream Filling: Origins (Chapter I)
Cream looked over his shoulder at the clock behind him. It was almost seven and almost a full hour after everyone else was supposed to have already arrived. Sighing, he turned back to the television, laid across the couch he was on and made some exasperated popping noises with his mouth. Boredom did not even begin to describe the feelings welling inside his head.

"Where the piss are those guys?" he complained over his head.
"It's almost an hour late, I'm sure they'll be here any time," Knight answered. Cream scoffed.
"And this doesn't bug ya at all?"
"Meh . . . not like I can't afford to stay up a bit later to make up for it . . ."

Ever the easy-going one when he wanted to, Cream's friend and roommate got up and went back to the kitchen to grab whatever snack he could from the pantry. Cream rolled his eyes even though he was out of sight; the others might have stayed up as long as they wanted to drink and revel, but he had to wake up for morning classes which he simply did not dare to miss.

The phone rang rhythmically to Cream's relief and quickly buzzed the other three into the building.
"Yo Knight," he said, "open the door. I wanna be free to punch the first one that steps through." Knight grinned as he put down the box of crackers.
"Sure, why not."

Within a minute or so, there came a knocking at the door. Cream took up his position to the side of the door while Knight began opening the door.
"Hey guys, what's . . . ah!" Jason cried out as he desparately blocked the quick cross aimed for his shoulder.
"What the piss took you guys?!" Cream shouted to the enjoyment of everyone else.
"It just took a little time, was all!" Jason answered back between a light laugh, "Geez Fil', what the hell's up your ass?"
"Not beer, in any case," Cream answered flatly. "Can we go already?"

As the five young men walked the fairly short distance from the apartments to the uptown area of town, quick banter was exchanged by all.
"So this absolute dickwad comes into the dealership," Jones began, describing his day at work, "bitching about how his warranty deal would be no good to him if the car already costed as much as it does, and I'm trying to explain to him that not getting the warranty is gonna kill him if something happens to him down the line . . ." Everyone laughed as Jones milked out every painful expression he could possibly know.
"Yeah, but at least you're making good money because of it," Knight answered back quickly. "I seriously wanted to punch out my computer monitor the last time someone started bitching at me about his freaking order that didn't even make sense."

"Why don't you leave the call center if you hate it so much?" Jones asked back almost rhetorically. Just before Knight could answer, Cream jumped in quickly.
"Oh, don't get him started on that, man," he said. "This could make him cry . . ."
"Oh shut up dickface," Knight responded, "at least I actually went out and got a job by myse . . ."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know." Cream was not in the mood to get into that one again and the others knew it.

"Alright," Tim said once all the emotions had fallen a bit, "let's just settle it this way: Jason buys the first round because he's still a bum."
"What?!" Jason cried out, almost tripping as they came to a street corner. Tim lowered his brow and grinned cruelly.
"Oh? Got a problem with it, peon?" he said, staring Jason dead in the eyes.
"Uh . . . . no . . ."
"Good . . . . ."


* * * * * * *


By the time they had run out of cash and had exited the local bar, the moon was already shining brightly through the few clouds in the night sky and the streets were all but silent once again. The five of them were laughing and falling over each other as they stumbled along the sidewalk in no particular direction.
"Alright, I kinda wanna play pool now," Knight said amidst the laughter. "Anyone else?"
"Yeah, sure," Jason answered, "if anyone'll spot me some cash."
"Useless 'tard . . ." Tim muttered.
"Hey, piss off!" Jason shouted back before trying to attack Tim. The larger, better built man was quick to belt him one in the stomach and settle him back down - again, laughter erupted within the group.
"Hey," Cream said as Jason started getting back up, "before you all head off to the pool hall, let me try something . . ."

Making their way into one of the small parking areas behind the stores of the small commercial strip, Cream scouted out a small coupe furthest from the lights.
"You wanna break into another one, Fil'?" Tim asked.
"No, even better," Cream said as he took out the small pieces of wire he had in his pocket. "You guys just keep an eye out for me, alright?" While the others made a wide circle around him as lookouts, Cream inserted the bent bits of wire into the car's keyhole and deftly unlocked the door. The young man quickly smiled to himself and let himself into the driver's seat
"Oh Fil', what the piss are you trying to do?" Jones asked, "I seriously don't feel like running tonight." Cream chuckled with fake malice.
"If this works out, we won't need to run anywhere!" From his other jacket pocket Cream retrieved a small screwdriver and began working under the steering column of the car.

After a few more minutes of the talented youths tinkering and his friends' near-panic, the car engine roared to life.
"Haha! I did it!" Cream proclaimed gleefully.
"Holy crap!" Jones exclaimed in disbelief, "you actually pulled it off!" The others were quick to offer similar congratulations. Cream basked for another short moment, revved the engine hard a few more times, and then disconnected his messy wiring. The engine cut out instantly.

"Fil', what the hell?!" Knight said. "Why'd you turn it off?!" Cream cocked his eyes at his roommate.
"What?! I'm not friggin' stealing a car!"
"We could have driven it back before they knew it, man!" The others were quick to side with Knight's rationale.
"No man, no joyride tonight . . . or any night. Not when my ass could be the next one getting opened up in prison." Jason, the smallest and easily the most affected by the night's consumption, made the first reply.
"Pshh, you know you'd like it . . ." he said getting a fast rise out of everybody. Cream instantly got out of the car and began chasing the other man around. The chase ended abruptly when the back door to one of the stores opened and the five of them darted away, giggling.

Once everyone's pulse had lowered once again, Knight spoke again.
"Alright, screw the pool hall, let's just go score some weed from the guy in the park and do that." Once again, a flurry of agreement arose.
"Oh hell yeah!" Tim shouted, "let's friggin' do it!" Jones and Jason made similar noise.

Cream, however, remained silent. Naturally he did not go unnoticed.
"You wanna come with, Fil'?" Knight asked with little compassion. Cream nodded sarcastically in response.
"Ahh . . . I got classes tomorrow, man," he said. "Not tonight."
"'Cause you would have come otherwise, right?"
"That's right."
"Psh . . . well, it's not like we didn't expect that."

Cream's hands tightened into fists as the others laughed lightly, but loosened them once he exhaled.
"Alright man, I'll see ya at home later, then," he said. "Don't friggin' do anything to retarded, alright?" The others were already walking the other direction, waving and saying their goodbyes. With that, Cream turned around, shook his head quickly and regained his balance, and headed home.


[I do realise I used the name "Jones" in Nougat: Origins. But hey, it's a common name and this time it actually means something . . . I'll tell ya why another time, though. It's a common name, anyway . . .]
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Friday, July 8, 2005

   Prologue:
"Whip," Nougat started, "I'm curious . . . why did you wanna make detective?" Cream snickered a little at the sudden question.
"You mean other than the extra two bucks an hour and all the women?" Both detectives had to laugh as the words echoed in the office.
"Yes, besides all that great stuff."
"I dunno," the younger officer answered, rubbing his chin and looking along the top of the back wall, "I guess . . . I just wanted to do something meaningful and interesting with my life, y'know?"


[myOtaku presents, a SomeGuy story . . .]

"Oh my gawd! I can't believe how many hotties were in that movie!" the first girl spouted as the group of six cut their way through the dark, empty Superstore parking lot. Her comment was quickly followed by a sequence of unrestrained giggles.
"That boy was absolutely molestable!" another added as she pretended to swoon and bounced herself off the others. The late hour and the vast amounts of iced coffee the group had drank after seeing the movie had taken its toll on the young high schoolers, and the quiet leisurely walk home was anything but.
"Okay, okay," another girl said, beckoning for her turn, "when they had the shot of him in the backyard . . ."
" . . without the shirt?!" someone else quickly added.
"Yes!" Immediately all six teens shrieked and clutched at each other's arms and jumped around like the schoolgirls they were.

The jumping ended abruptly when an empty beer can bounced quickly across the pavement next to them.

"Will you damn bitches shut the hell up already?!" shouted a young man standing in front of one of the few parked cars in the lot. The girls went silent as they looked through the overhead beams of light leading to the group of four sitting on and around the parked vehicle.
"Hey!" the tallest of the girls shouted back as her friends took up mixed stances upon which to respond. "If you didn't want people to interrupt your night you wouldn't have taken it to a parking lot like a bunch of losers." Another man rose from his seat on the car's hood, staggered slightly, and stepped forward.
"You girls completely brainless?" he questioned agressively. As he spoke, the other two left from their seats and quickly made their way around to the other side of the girls.

The one girl swore to herself and began backing up and away from the approaching group of youths. The girls suddenly found themselves cornered against the side of the Superstore to the four men.
"Next time you should just keep your damn mouths shut," the first man growled before swiping at the closest girl. She jumped back, swinging her purse up in the process and wrapping it around the man's arm; as the man yanked his arm back, the purse went with it and sailed behind all of them.

"That's it, now you've had it!" he shouted as all four of them rushed forward at the panicked and screaming teens . . .

"Ho-lee crap, can you get a load of this?" a voice called out from behind the struggle. Immediately the four men quickly turned around, giving the girls a chance to quickly escape. Once they were a fair distance away, the girls turned back to look: another group of young men were all standing opposite the first group . . .

"Alright, who the frick are you guys?" the first man asked as he eyed the new strangers.
"Oh, just another group of local assholes, much like yourselves," the center stranger replied wryly.
"Oh, you son of a . . ." The agitated man never finished his sentence before he charged forward and swung at the stranger; he was sidestepped and tripped to the ground.
"Alright," the same stranger said as the other four accompanying him cracked their knuckles and shook out their arms, "we just got ejected from the pub and are kinda put off about it. We were hoping we'd find a way to let that off, and, thank heavens, now we do . . ."

Before the first man could get back up, two of the strangers on opposing sides ran up and soccer-kicked him in his ribs with full force, drawing a sharp gasp. The other three aggressors came at the remaining three strangers as best they could.

The girls could only stare in shock from the sidelines as they watched the parking lot brawl play out. The largest of the strangers had run headlong into one of the prior men and forced him backwards onto the ground before pummeling him about the face mercilessly. Another of the newcomers, upon goading someone into squaring off with him, had thrown a handful of dirt and rocks into his opponent's eyes before rushing his knee deep into the man's stomach. The last stranger was circling around his match-up slowly; he dared not make a single move, but he was also not willing to let the other man leave. As he quickly glanced around himself, he smiled when his waiting paid off: three of his friends had finished with their bouts and were able to jump the remaining man from behind. A barrage of kicks and stomps left the man practically motionless as well.

While looking over their field of perverse victory, a couple of the strangers went over to the other men's parked car and help themselves to whatever drinks were still unopened. One of the strangers - the slimmer one who had orchestrated the final blows - stepped over to the fallen purse and picked it up. The girls, meanwhile, were quick to run up to their apparent saviours to offer their gratitude. Their gratitude turned to shock as the stranger opened the purse and pulled out the small wallet.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" the owner of the purse cried out.
"Bus fare," the stranger replied coolly while the girl's question echoed across the vast parking lot. "After that fight, I don't think we're gonna be able to walk the whole way home now." The other strangers who had since come back with drinks in hand were already laughing quietly amongst themselves. Their friend had since extracted a few bills from the wallet and had replaced it back in the purse.
"Oh get off it and give me my money back!" As the laughter around him rose, the stranger took a quick hop and threw the purse down the parking lot as far as he could before turning back to the visibly shaken girls.
"If you ask me, a lot worse could have happened here," he said. "You're all unhurt . . . which is more than I can say for us . . . and you still have all your possessions. Now be good girls and go home. It's a school night, after all . . ." As he turned away with his friends, he heard a shriek behind him.
"Asshole!" the girl screeched out, her voice straining and her tears falling. The strangers, meanwhile, continued to laugh and never look back.

"Man, Fil', that was about as cold as I've ever seen you work!" one guy said as they walked across the street away from the Superstore. Cream shrugged and grinned.
"Yeah, well . . . high school girls really piss me off, y'know? So annoying . . . . ."


Cream Filling: Origins


[And so it begins anew . . . . .]
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