(I would’ve posted this earlier, but I guess I got distracted by Theathrythm: Final Fantasy: Curtain Call. Anyway, I suppose working on this would be good, considering I’ve already acquired a growing hatred for the EMS songs…)
Sinbad had been massaged and back-rubbed into a state of bliss. He now sat at the end of the bed, feeling Shark’s feet pressing up against him.
“Jeez. Now I wished I’d brought flowers, or something.” He craned down his sight as far as he could. “I hope those things are clean.”
“They are.” Shark then wrapped his legs around Sinbad’s waist. “And don’t worry about it. I know you’re not really into the mushy stuff.”
He then felt Sinbad’s warm hands take hold of his feet, gently weaving his fingers in with his toes.
Horse-Face had no idea whether or not to comply with his superior’s demands. Even after the so-called reassurances that the targets wouldn’t wake up, he still wasn’t sure.
“Are you sure this is the best time to do this-”
They silenced him by pushing him over onto the floor. “Come on. The old coots are out cold, and their son’s been doing drugs all day. There’s no better time.”
“What’s the latter like while on drugs?”
“Earlier I saw him punch out a lamp because he thought it insulted him. Then he ate an entire ham, loudly cussed out Harry Potter, then started dancing the macarena for no apparent reason.”
The unusual events performed by one man worried Horse-Face. “I’m still unsure-”
“You want what happened to the original Horse-Face to happen to you? No? Then do as I say.” Slowly, Horse-Face got to his feet, only to be pushed back down again.
“You gonna do as I say? Not gonna quit ’til you comply.” Reluctantly, he did so.
“Come on in, Mister Racket,” Alma said as she opened the door for him. “Blaise isn’t ready yet. She’s in the kitchen getting one of her snacks ready.”
Almost as though on cue, Blaise poked her head out of the doorway. “Hey, Alma! Can I eat the rest of this ice cream with my hands?”
“Blaise dear, you’re not an animal! Use a spoon.”
“All the spoons are dirty, though!”
Somehow Blaise’s expression caused Alma to be lenient. “Oh, all right. Just this one time, though!”
Blaise then disappeared back into the kitchen, but not before throwing out a quick “Hi, Denny!” Waiting a few moments after she popped back in, Alma then led Dennis to the couch.
“Well, make yourself comfortable. It might take her a while.”
Horse-Face was astounded at the smells a human being could exude. He only wished he could pinch his nose as he cautiously tip-toed around the man slumped at the computer.
Bill was out cold and naked, his head planted firmly on the keyboard. He kept mumbling about random subjects that made no sense. Next to him were several lines of unsnorted coke.
“I’ll show you Happy Holidays, you headless turkey…” Trying not to retch, Horse-Face turned back to the door to the room, and cut the pad of his index finger.
Slowly, he began making the first strokes of the character he was told to write. At first, he was able to make it look decent enough.
He got about halfway done before he was jolted out of his concentration.
“Put that glock down, Sagebear!” The way Bill shouted in his sleep was almost enough to ruin what was being worked on. Horse-Face kept quiet until he was sure Bill was still asleep, then continued.
“So how long have you and Miss Blaise known each other?” Dennis ignored what was on television, in favor of chatting up Alma.
Alma looked off in thought. “Years and years. I think we might’ve known each other in high school.” She reclined back onto the couch. “I think it’s best to say I’ve known her for as long as I can remember.”
“Well, all right then!” The two then resumed watching TV. After about ten minutes, Blaise joined them. Her change in attire didn’t go unnoticed:
“Madam, you appear to have misplaced your shirt.”
Blaise looked down at her topless self. “I spilled some ice cream on it, and didn’t want to get another one. That, and I figured I’d let loose for the rest of the night.”
She then turned her attention back to the two of them. “You’re not bothered by this, are ya?” Alma and Dennis made it well known it was all right for her to do so.
“Oh, it’s perfectly fine, do what you want!”
“You want to let them out, go right ahead!”
Feeling Sinbad’s facial hair on his neck made Shark pleasurably shiver. He just about purred as he felt those hands roam his body.
“Sinbad, I think you’re starting to form calluses,” he whispered. Pulling away, Sinbad took a glance at his hands, and saw that indeed he was.
Seeing this confused him. Somehow several years of handling firearms yielded nothing, but several months of working in a Bistro did.
“Huh. That’s weird as hell.” He then decided to pull Shark into a hug. “Fuck, yeah, I do remember what happened today at work now.”
A quiet nod indicated Shark was listening.
“Some asshole thought his wife’s dinner was cooked wrong. Even though I made it the way you’re supposed to make it…” Sinbad pulled back to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Did you tell him that?”
Sinbad responded that he did. “He didn’t really listen. He starts in on how he’s the customer and he’s always right. And by this point, I’d already made her plate like, two or three times.”
“Then what happened?”
“He really started ranting. I think it stopped being about the dinner, and something about how ‘the good, working-class man is losing the battle on foreigners’. Then he used a slur with one of my coworkers and punched her.”
Shark flinched at hearing this. “He punched her? Is she okay?”
“She is. He got arrested. Good thing your uncle happened to be there tonight.” Now Sinbad looked him right in the eyes. “That reminds me: You talk to him at all yet since moving out of the mansion?”
“Dad has. I haven’t personally. But I’m glad he was there to help you.”
After an agonizing process, Horse-Face had finally finished the mark for Bill. He kept swallowing the rising bile as he stepped away slowly.
“What d’you mean, the streak-a-thon is cancelled…?” As quietly as he could, he got on all fours and crept towards the bedroom door.
It was pointless. Just as he reached the exit, he felt himself being stepped on. Trying to look through the holes of his mask, he saw a most unsavory glimpse of a middle-aged man’s ass.
(…There would’ve been more of this, but I guess I’ll save that for part 3.)