#Herkie x Jack

[marvel-ousnesss]

The Pirate and the Witch (part five)

(via giphy)

Word Count: 3425

Pairing:  Harry Hook x daughter of narissa!reader

Summary: Y/N, an orphan vk who was taken to auradon at a young age, returns to her old home by request of the crown prince. However, things tend to go south at the Isle of the Lost.

Warning: Mild cursing, mentions of hangover

 Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE DISNEY DESCENDANTS CHARACTERS NOR THE SANDERSON SISTERS. All credit goes to the creators, writers, and producers. 

 A/N: No Harry in this part, just moving the plot forward; TBH I'm just trying to get through the first movie so I can just focus a bit more on the pairing. So, let me know what you think and don't hesitate to ask if you wanna be tagged in upcoming parts. 

Part one 

Part two

Part Three

Part Four

masterlist

I sprint to my place, going as fast as my feet allow it, and like I feared but expected, find a limousine waiting for me right outside. 

“Give me 10 minutes,” I instruct over my shoulder, not giving the guards any time to protest. 

I throw the door and go straight to the closet. Instead of neatly packing, I roll everything up and force it into my backpack. Next, I move to my desk to grab the tablet and folder I brought with me. As I rush downstairs, I mentally do a checklist of my belongings and, panting, I sit on the back of the car. 

“Nailed it,” my voice is quiet but full of pride. 

A headache hits me as soon as we begin moving; nausea and dizziness follow closely so I shut my eyes and try to drift off. 

“Prince Ben is expecting you at the castle,” I groan at the driver’s announcement 

“Please tell him I can’t go, I’m feeling a bit under the weather.” 

“I apologize, lady Y/N, but I cannot do that. His highness said it was a matter of immediate importance.” 

I breathe, “fine then.” 

….. 

After the familiar but pompous welcome at the entrance of the castle, without even greeting my parents, I’m escorted to Ben’s quarters; more specifically, his ‘office’. 

I sit down in front of his workspace to wait for him; a few minutes later, he goest through the double doors, sporting the grin of the Cheshire Cat. 

“Tell me everything.” 

He walks to his desk and sits down expectantly. 

I, however, don’t share his joyful mood. My arms fall to rest on his desk and my head follows, now resting on my elbows and facing down. 

Completely disregarding the groan emitted by me, he whines, “Y/NNN.”

Another groan.

“You can’t leave me like this, you know?  How was it? Did you meet Maleficent? Jafar?” He gasps, “did you see the Huns’ Troops?”

“No, yes, and no;” I lift my head, so it remains over my elbows, but facing him. “I met the crew of the Black Pearl.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome, I mean scary, I mean… tell me everyth..  are you okay?” His eyes flicker from thrill to worry, and his left hand reaches out to my right arm. 

“Just hungover, and really tired, I guess.” 

The prince opens his mouth but decides against voicing his thoughts. I bet he was gonna say something about underage drinking, but reminded himself where I was. I chuckle, almost inaudibly. 

“Do you wanna lay down for a bit? We still have a few hours before Snow White’s birthday,” he offers. 

I nod, “yes please.”

He leads me to his room and helps me make the bed; then, he digs through the first drawer of his nightstand and takes out a small white pill. 

“There’s a glass of water on the bathroom sink. I don’t really know how to get rid of a hangover, but I think this and a nap will do the trick.” 

“Thanks Ben.” 

It didn’t completely do the trick. After what I assume were a few hours of tossing and turning, I’m woken up by my alarm and find myself walking to the bathroom. The headache has lessened, but the sensation of discomfort is still lingering through my body. 

I take a cold shower and get dressed. After achieving a simple, yet classy look with the makeup Audrey kept at Ben’s, I go out of his room and head downstairs. 

….

So far, everything’s going great. Most people have been dancing all night and all the guests seem to be enjoying the music, the food, and everything else that the party offers. I, for one, danced with Herkie for a bit, and then grabbed a snack with Jane and Lonnie. Right now, I’m making my way back to our family table when I cross paths with my dad. 

With the most kind and charming smile, and a stiff voice dripping with formality, he asks “May I have this dance, my lady?” 

With a smile matching his, I bow and reply, “sure, dad.” 

“Killjoy,” he frowns.

The music grows louder and faster; and before I know it, I’m being twirled around the dance floor guided by my dad’s expert moves. 

“You know, the king was worried sick about you,” he says once we return to our original position. 

I quirk a brow, “about me, or about me going all rogue and Vk?” 

“What are you talking about?” he asks with a small laugh. “You’ve been going rogue ever since you met that kid Ben, totally a bad influence.” 

“Yeah, right… Ben’s fault,” I smirk. “Ignoring the fact that I’m your daughter.” 

Pretending to be offended, he gasps and snickers, “What are you suggesting young lady?”

“Oh, nothing, dad, nothing at all,” I play coy.

After laughing again, with a motion of his right hand, my dad spins me toward the center of the dance floor and I end up in the arms of none other than Chad Charming.

He tries to speak seductively, apparently forgetting that it’s me who he’s dancing with. 

“Y/N,” he greets, making his voice come out an octave deeper.

“Chad,” I giggle, unable to help myself. Does that voice even work on anyone? 

“You look great tonight.”

“You too,” I return the compliment. “ But you’d look even better if you didn’t use your macho voice with me.” 

His chest vibrates with his chuckle; but, as we dance, his eyes fly across the room. 

Already knowing that face, I inquire, “who’s your victim for tonight?” 

“Victim? How low do you think of me?”

“I mean, with all due respect-,” this time, it is me who guides his hand, inviting him to spin me. “Who’s the unlucky lady who’s caught your eye?” 

“Melody over there, she’s been totally flirting with me lately.” 

My nose scrunches, then I point out, “hate to break it to you, but she’s dating the blond guy.” 

His right hand abandons my back and he exaggeratedly points at his head, making a face that seems to taunt saying, “duh”. 

I roll my eyes at him, “the other blond. The one she’s talking to.”

He shrugs, and voices in a sing-song manner, “don’t know, don’t care.”

“Chad, we don’t flirt with people with boyfriends.”

He pouts, “You’re no fun.”

The song finishes, so I decide to look for Ben; he’s with his dad, sitting at their table and talking. 

I take a deep breath before I approach them, and walk to them with a smile.

“Your Majesty, Ben,” I greet. 

“Y/N, we were just talking about you. Take a seat.” Ben sends me an apologetic look, after hearing his father’s words. 

I thank him and sit down on the empty chair that he pointed to. After offering me some food and a glass of lemonade, the king begins, “I gather that your experience at the Isle was, well, invigorating; I’d love to hear every detail.” 

My eyes drift over to the prince, silently asking him for help, but his only response is an encouraging smile. 

…… 

“To be honest,” I take a sip of my tea, “my conversation with the king didn’t go half as bad as I thought it would. I spared the Harry part, and he actually seemed to be kind of proud of my “data compilation,” as he called it”. 

The three fairies hum as they listen to my words. I came for routine lessons today, but they managed to get me spilling all the gossip.

“He said the only thing left to do was putting the plan into action, which took me out of guard, really.” 

“We’re really proud of you, dear,” says Merrywether. 

Flora stirs her tea, “but you need to know that the union of both lands won’t come with an exchange program for students.” 

I shrug, smiling at her, “you’ve gotta begin somewhere. And I believe that, the way my trip to the Isle went will make everything else just flow into place.”

Merrywether makes a move to grab a biscuit, but decides against it and takes a handful instead. Settling them on her lap to eat them one by one, she presses, “Tell us everything, how’s the place? Is it true that they eat kittens for breakfast?” She gasps, “or, or that the pirates feed the intruders to their man-eating kraken?”

I chuckle at her fearful antics and explain. “I did find the place frightening, but the people are not as mean as they paint them to be. Well, of the ones I met, only Jafar…” 

Flora seems taken aback, “you met… them? How many of them? Did they do something to you? Are you sure you’re not spelled or anything? I think we should scan you for dark magic.” 

“Flora, I’m fine. Really.” 

“But—” 

“As I said, they’re not that bad. I actually got along well with the ones I met.” I claim, “Jack and Gil were really kind to me, just like Maestre Gibbs. I also spent some time with Jay, Jafar’s son, and Carlos de Vil. Oh, and there’s also Harry; when Fairygodmother told me about him, she warned me how vicious and dangerous he was but he was just a bit cocky."

Fauna sighs, grinning at me expectantly, but the joy of her expression falls when I continue; ”A pretty cool guy, actually."

At that moment, the three faes exchange a worried look. 

"What is it?"

"It's just," Flora sighs, "we think he may be a bad influence on you, dear."

"Yeah, we've made such huge advances with your progress," agrees Fauna, "and it'd be a shame for--"

"For me to go evil?"

"No, honey, we didn't mean it like that," Merywether tries to mend it, but I know how they mean it; just like the king and queen do. 

"Then, how did you mean it? Do you seriously trust me so little? And, and do you seriously think so low of the VKs?" I place my cup on the table, looking at them with disbelief. 

“We’re glad that they were kind to you, but you can’t forget what they’re capable of, darling. They’re there for a reason.” 

“Them, or their parents?” 

With a wave of her wand, Merywether refills the teapot and tray. As she does so, Flora stands up and looks out the window; “Well you know, how’s the saying?, why cure it when you can prevent it.” 

“Unbelievable,” I scoff at her words.

Fauna’s voice is soft, and her look is full of pity, “Darling, we just think there are better crowds for you to hang with.” 

Unbelievable. However, I manage to smile at her and say, “you have nothing to worry about, I promise.” 

They don’t seem to believe me, but refuse to press on the topic; so the three of them exchange looks and flora speaks up; “okay, dear, let’s get started, then.” 

Not to be dramatic, but I would’ve preferred a sleeping curse over today's lesson. The first three hours are full of misguided spells, so I ask for a break. 

”This isn't working, ” I groan; ”can we please practice something else?” 

Merrywether sighs, “let’s work on some transfiguration spells, honey.”

I agree, hoping that it'll clear my mind. Without a word, I then summon a table with three vases, and concentrate to turn them into whatever the fairies instruct me to. 

…………. 

The next day, the sound of my phone wakes me up early; Ben's ready to reveal who he has chosen for the exchange program that we planned, and he asked me to be there when he tells his parents. So, right after breakfast with Aunt Charlotte, I drive to the castle, practically jump out of my car, and sprint to the Prince's Chambers. 

Without announcements, I dive through the door; he smiles, "okay, now that we're all here, I'd like to make my first royal proclamation."

Oh don there'll be time for royal decrees, i cant believe you'll be king next month. Sixteen's to young to be king. 

You'll do great, Im sure belle 

I just smile at him, anf take a seat on the edge of his bed, giving him a nod

He chuckles, but as the words leave his mouth, all the smiles in the room are replaced by serious looks; except for mine. "As you know, I've decided that the kids of The Isle of the Lost are to be given a chance to leave here in Auradon."

Beast's comprehensive and caring facade quivers, as he points out the window, "I know we've spoken about this, but you are talking about the children of our sworn enemies living among us. Such risk cannot be taken."

"Every time I look out to the isle I, I feel like they've been abandoned. They're out there paying for something their parents did and it's time to do something about it." His words are full of confidence and compassion, he's gonna make the best king this people have ever seen. "They deserve a second chance, and I've already chosen the ones who'll inaugurate the program."

"Have you?" the king's voice is challenging, but he calms down when his wife speaks up; "I gave you a second chance," she reminds. 

"Children of Jafar," Belle gasps, "Evil Queen, Cruella de Vil, and Maleficent." He doesn't hesitate. 

 I'm proud of him, but my smile becomes a bit forced when I hear his chosen VKs; it wouldn't be frank to say that I wouldn't've prefered for the pirates to come.  

"Maleficent!?," roars Beast, "she is the most feared and vicious villain of the land. Her and those people are guilty of atrocities."

Suddenly, Ben's voice becomes pleading "But their children are innocent, don't you think they deserve another shot?"

The king hesitates,

"You gave me a second chance," I say. His eyes soften as he looks at me. Even if they can be too proud to admit it, the king and queen of Auradon have shown me such affections dignified for a daughter; it would be a lie to say that they didn't care for me. 

He tries to toughen up again, but our imploring looks convince him otherwise. 

"I guess their children are innocent. " 

Ben smiled once again, "thanks dad, you won't regret it."

The day of the VK's arrival comes, and everything was perfectly organized; the band was playing and students and teachers were waving with excitement. You'd say that they all supported the young prince's decision; at least they pretend well (speaking of hypocrite). I chuckle as I look through the school window; even from here, I can see Ben's expression of excitement and Audrey's almost permanent plastic grin. The limo hasn't arrived yet, so I decide to grab a bite before the newcomers arrive. 

After finishing my sandwich, I rush down the stairs to meet Ben, and bump into him as soon as I start descending. 

"Oh, there you are, guys; come down," he smiles. I look behind me and find Doug strolling down the stairs. 

 "These are Doug and-"

"Y/N?" Carlos chirps, to which I respond with a smile and a wave. 

"You know them?" Audrey questions, "Ben, she-"

"Relax, I'll explain later," he places a hand on her arm lovingly, "As you guys already know each other, Y/N and Doug will show you the rest of the school and will help you with your class schedules."

"Hey, guys, I'm Doupy's son; and this is Y/N, but you already know her, I guess, so," his voice is shaky and his eyes are changing constantly between me and them. 

They look at me quizzically, "I'll explain later. Doug, these are Carlos, son of Cruella de Vil, Jay, son of Jafar; Mal, daughter of Maleficent; and Evie, daughter of the Evil Queen." 

Doug takes a deep breath, "Great that we know each other; now, I already signed you up for all of your classes so feel free to ask any questions that you have."

"I have one," Mal smirks at me. "Does your pirate boyfriend know you're a pretty princess or did you,"she gasps mockingly," lie to him?"

In that moment, a glare replaces my comfortable smile and electric green sparks slither through my fingers; "I'll be happy to answer all of your school-related questions."

We walk down the hall in a tense silence, until we arrive at the last door of the building; "So, this is it," Doug smiles at Mal and Evie. 

They wave and get inside, then I turn around and begin to walk away. 

'' Aren't we getting the room next-door?" asks Carlos. 

"Nope, now, c'mon," I grin, can't wait to show them their room; they're gonna love it. 

I practically jump through the hall and into their room; also the last one down the hall but in the boys' side. 

I open the wooden door and get inside, everything is neatly organized but the color pallette is a bit darker than it is for the rest of the rooms. Aside from that, it has the same things as the rest, including the console connected to the flatscreen tv on the wall. 

They look at everything in awe, and take no time to throw themselves on the beds. "This is, wow," breathes Carlos; Jay agrees, bouncing on the mattress. 

"This," I grab the console controls, "is the best part of all. It comes with 600 games and I'm sure that, if you play the proxy right, you'll have like 400ish more."

The boys come closer to the tv and look at it curiously, "it's like the one you showed me back home, the tablet?"

"Yup, just like that," I throw the control at Jay; "try it."

 "Thanks Y/N, I mean, uh, bye."

Jay begins playing, and Carlos sits on a couch besides him; "no, really, thanks Y/N.''

"Bye, guys."

……..

I toss Chad his jacket without looking up from the book I'm reading. He and Ben have a tourney game against the falcons in a few hours and, given that Audrey and I have to cheer through it as well, the four of us decided to gather and work on some homework. Nevermind; Ben, Audrey and I are working on homework while Chad scrolls through the phone his dad just got him. 

After Chad breathes out a 'thanks', the room falls silent, but Audrey complains, "I just don't think they belong here."

"Who?," Asks Chad.

"The teaching staff," I mock, "the VKs, you moron."

Ben sighs, putting his shoes back on; "oh, come on, they haven't done anything to us. They're not that bad."

"Ben, their parents are villains; that makes them evil too."

This time, I do place my book down to look at her, "You don't even have a point there; have you forgotten who my mom was?"

"It's different Y/N, you were raised here; and you're not evil, you're our friend;" she smiles at me. 

Chad takes a drink of water from his bottle, "well, evil or not, Evie's kinda hot; and she's a nerd too. Got her to do all my chemistry homework."

I scoff, "such a gentleman."

"Seriously, guys, have any of you had a decent conversation with them? They're just like us," Ben insists. 

"Y/N has," Audrey points out, placing her pink notebook inside her bag. "In fact, she knows the two boys. You never told us, Y/N/N, why were they so friendly with you when they got here."

Hearing Audrey's question, the three of us share a dissimulated look, and I explain. "Before school started, I went to check The Isle, spent a few days there, no big deal."

"It was all a plan so I could prepare my proclamation, Y/N went there and, based on what she saw, I chose the four VKs that joined the program."

Audrey's mouth is agape, but Chad keeps no mind of our conversation.

"You don't look surprised, Chad," she digresses. "Why don't you look surprised?"

"Only the three of us knew about it, we kept it secret so his dad wouldn't stop us."

"And you didn't tell me? Your girlfriend?"

"I-"

Placing my hair into a ponytail, I question, "Would've you let us go through with it?"

She glares at the three of us, but sighs "no."

She giggles, but we all know to look past that, "Well, your choice couldn't have been worse, Bennyboo."

We get out of the boys' dorm and begin to make our way to our lockers; "what matters is that the choice is made," I shrug. 

Tags: @criticizing-blogger​

@aspitefullittlebeing​ @treestarrrrrrrr

#Disney descendants #descendants imagine #descendants fanfic #descendants fanfiction #harry hook #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #harry hook imagines #harry hook fanfic #Uma #Gil #Ben #king ben #mal #evie #jay #carlos de vil #lonnie #jane #vks

[weeklyhumorist]

BOOK EXCERPT: Slouchers: The Novelization

The following is an excerpt from Slouchers: The Novelization, a book based on the 1992 Gen-X movie by the same name.

It’s being re-published for the first time since 1992 and is available here, among other stores:

    Excerpt from

Slouchers: The Novelization

    “Did you guys know R2D2 and C3PO were designed by the same inventor?” announces Cody. “But that he was bi-polar? So each robot represents a different emotional side to his personality?”

“Watched Jaws again last night,” says a voice from the pitched roof, changing the subject.

It is Wes.

Willow’s camera pans upwards, past the NO LOITERING SIGN. Wes likes to sit on roofs. Also, he is gay, which can only make Willow’s documentary that much more interesting—and current. Homosexuals have been in the news recently because they are “coming out of the closet,” which means they are announcing to their families they are “homosexuals.”

This has never before happened in the history of “homosexuality,” which most likely goes back years, if not decades.

“I believe that the entire premise of Jaws was based on the Kennedy assassination,” he finishes.

When Willow first met him, a week ago, Wes had already been on the roof for a month. He’s in it for the long haul!

“Here we go,” says Cody. He rolls his eyes in mock exasperation. He doesn’t have time for any of this.

Actually, he does.

All he has, really, is time.

The video store doesn’t open for another hour. It will then close one hour beyond that.

Cody likes to earn extra dough by participating in the bootleg cassette and video black market: celebrity sex tapes, illegal rock concert movies, and hours upon hours of hilarious bloopers from the recently released Silence of the Lambs, including a long scene in which the lotion is not properly placed in the basket.

Wes—up on the roof—also has nothing but time. He’s been kicked out of his home and he intends to stay up on the slanted roof until his parents, who just don’t understand, eventually visit him and profusely apologize.

Like all parents in movies, they do not understand “homosexuals.”

But Wes is a Gen X’er.   And Gen X’ers take matters into their own hands!

The term “Gen X” was coined in 1991 by writer and “Baby Boomer” Douglas Coupland.   “Baby Boomer” is another important sociological term, this one coined years ago by a writer from the “Greatest Generation.”   Before that, no generations—at least with any marketable names—ever existed.   That’s just the way it was.

And this is the way it is now …

“Okay,” says Wes, from the roof, encouraged. “So listen to this: the shark is Oswald, right? The first woman to be killed—the swimmer in the ocean— that would represent Kennedy, okay? The rest of the dead would be the soldiers in Vietnam, yeah?” Wes looks down at Willow. “Isn’t the memory card full? You’ve been shooting on your Fuji DS-100 digicam ten minutes already, right?”

“Not yet,” answers Willow. “Few more minutes! Show the entire universe what you’re made of!”

It’s interesting that the Kennedy assassination was just mentioned. One of Willow’s all-time cinematic influences—more so than even Truffaut, whom she has yet to see—is the herky-jerky camera movements from the Zapruder Film, so influential on MTV’s documentarian, vérité style: exciting, loose, impulsive.

Volatile.

Standing gingerly, and making sure his left foot is planted properly so as to not fall off the roof, Wes spreads his arms wide. “Welcome to our reality! We’ve just graduated from college. And we have no jobs. Or prospects! Fuck it! Down the up elevator!”

As if to prove his point, Wes opens his graduation robe wide and dips his head so that his mortar board can be seen. It’s badly stained with alcoholic drinks. Written in white electrical tape across it is “NOW! WHAT?!”

Beneath his robe, Wes wears a ripped T-shirt recently purchased from Old Navy. He would have ripped it himself, in all the right places, but he figured he’d just let the Chinese workers do it for him.

“We call it our maxi pad,” announces Topper to the world. “Our den of equality. Here, anybody is free to be a sloucher!”

“And proud of it,” Cody semi-screams.

Cody slumbers over to the pay phone. He’s holding a half-eaten slice of convenience store pizza and a stack of quarters. He places the receiver to his ear. He’s been on hold forever with KQMV, the grunge radio station. He wants them— no, needs them—to play “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

It’s been fifteen minutes.

Fuck it.   On to something new.   He hangs up. Inserts quarters. He dials 1-900-DAY-DREA.

An operator answers. “1-900-DAYDREAM. How may I assist you to daydream today?”

“I need a daydream please,” says Cody.   He’d think of one himself but he’s too lazy.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Interests?”

“Films. Pop culture. Sci-Fi. Um …”  He pauses. What else?  “Fantasy, I guess? Horror. That’s about it. Oh, equal rights for … everyone, I guess, too?”

The operator is silent. She’s thinking. What would a twenty-three year old with these particular interests daydream about?

“I think I have it,” she eventually says. “You’re a famous filmmaker. And you’re walking into the premiere of your new blockbuster. It’s all about monsters.”

“I daydreamed that the other day. Another operator gave it to me.”

“Hmmmm. Then let’s try this one. You’re attending a party with many beautiful women—do you like women?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. A bevvy of beautiful women are attending a party and you are invited. Maybe you had a crush on a few in high school. Typically in these sorts of social situations, you’re shy, you don’t say much. Not that you can’t. It’s just that you don’t want to. But you decide that this party will be different. You walk in confidently. All heads turn. You loudly announce that you have a few conspiracy theories about the movie The Shining. There’s a gasp. What a way to enter a party! The women are stunned! They’ve never seen or heard anything like this!”

“Oooh, that’s good,” says Cody. “Very good, yes! I like that!”

“Before long, the most beautiful women are in the bedroom, listening to all of your fascinating, original theories on The Shining.”

“Ooooh.”

“You have so many Stanley Kubrick theories, like how The Overlook’s distinctive, hexagonally-patterned carpeting depicts the chemical compound for the soon-to-be invented crack cocaine. The girls are blown away. They’re in heaven. You sit back on the bed, your arms behind your head, and you’re nodding, as if to say: Yeah. No big deal. I just knew you would dig my theories. Whatever!”

“Wow.”

“And that is your daydream for today.”

“Do I sleep with them?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to insert another $1.25 in quarters to find out.”

Cody hangs up.

Harsh realm. 

But cool. He can handle the rest of the daydream himself. He has enough to work with—barely, but enough. He takes a bite out of his pizza, a huge one. He places the slice back down on to the dirty, metallic surface within the phone booth. It’ll be safe until he returns in ten minutes. He blades over to the curb, mouth stuffed, and sinks down with a loud sigh. His energy for the day is sapped.

But he has some daydreaming to do …

“Hey, everyone!” says Topper, skateboarding past Cody, “how much realistically to run into the Convenience Mart right now, buck naked, and then eat a roller dog and then jet right back out? How much realistically would it take for you to do that? Seriously? Realistically?”

“Twenty,” says Jack Jack.

“Fifteen,” says Wes.

“I’d do it for nothin’,” says Royce, chewing languidly on a straw. “Fuck it. I’d do anything for free. I’m crazy like that!”

Royce smokes his Camels “straight.” Kicked out of the Army after forcing the citizens of Baghdad to memorize at gunpoint the lyrics to R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts”, he’s back in Seattle and living it up in the parking lot. Royce is the badass of the bunch, the one with the streetwise panache. The one who wears the Army fatigues and a hospital bracelet that’s never been explained but is now fraying. The bracelet is tie-dyed.

Sipping on a 40, Royce has just returned from yet another visit to the plasma bank. His purpose this time was to pay for all the personal lubrication at the Convenience Mart that will assist him in making a deposit at the sperm bank so that he can earn enough money for all the Ring Dings and tall cans of 40 he so desperately craves at the Convenience Mart.

It’s the perfect hustle.

“Then why don’t you?”  Royce shrugs. He adjusts his camouflage Army jacket. He fiddles with his plastic hospital bracelet.

“Juss don’t feel like it, is all,” he says. “Fuck it. Fuck everything!”  “Hey, guys,” asks Topper. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,” says Wes from the roof.

“So when you’re sitting in a pool and you feel something that ain’t cool, does it have to be diarrhea?”

Wes laughs. He’s heard this before. And yet it never grows tiresome.

Willow turns off her digital video cam by hitting the large, red STOP button.

“You guys,” announces Willow. “Incredible! Amazing! MTV will love this! You guys are the best! Just acting like yourselves, you’re stars! The world will soon know you all!”

“When’s the contest deadline?” asks Wes, sitting back down on the roof’s slope, making room for his graduation robe to bloom out like a red cloud within a heroin syringe. “When do you have to mail this in?”

Leave it to the homosexual character to be overly concerned about logistics!

“One week from today,” answers Willow. “At exactly this time. They’ll pick a winner, live on the air, for their Grunge Voice of a Generation! I’m going to be cutting it close! But I must get this right, I just have to! There are no second chances!”

“And then you’ll be MTV’s first Grunge Veejay!” says Topper, skateboarding past, sipping on a mug of locally crafted Hefferveisen brew, the latest hops “craze.”

There are so many breweries in this Northwest city that you can practically smell yeast in the air!

Willow prays it’s yeast.

“And we can all move into your mansion. And do nothing all day, every day,” exclaims Topper.

“Do?” asks Jack Jack. “More like yabba-dabba-don’t!”

“I thought you wanted to be the first skateboarder to perform a 360-inward-double-heel flip in slow motion on a Doritos TV ad,” says Wes.

Topper’s face flushes. That is, indeed, his dream. But when someone else says it, it just sounds too insurmountable for anyone to actually achieve …

“Maybe,” he mumbles. “I don’t know. You know, maybe.”

“I don’t want to be MTV’s first grunge veejay,” says Willow. “I want to be a filmmaker. I want to capture my generation on expensive VHS tape.”

“But can we still move into your mansion? And do nothing all day, every day?” asks Topper. “When you get famous?”

“We do that anyway,” says Wes from above. “All day, every day. Nothing.”

“Right. But we can then do it inside,” says Topper. “And not outside. Where it rains.”

“Rain is nothing but a conceit,” announces Wes.

“Of what?”

“Of reality,” says Wes. “We’re living within a giant computer.”

“Like Tron?” asks Topper, reaching for another nacho and dipping it into a cardboard container of liquid cheese. “Greed is good. Nachos are better.”

“Can you imagine?” asks Topper. “We’re nothing more than images and pictures inside a huge Tandy TRS-80 in the sky?”

“Can’t even,” says Cody, although it’s hard to tell if he’s being sarcastic.  It’s his second language.

“Being programmed by a Radio Shack employee to do anything the guy wants,” says Topper.

“So you’re saying that if my programmer wants me to spit, then he would just have me spit?” asks Jack Jack.

He spits.

“Yes.”

“But what if my programmer does not want me to spit and yet I want to spit?”

Jack Jack goes to spit but stops himself at the last moment.

“Then he never wanted you to spit,” says Cody. “He didn’t want you to spit from the beginning.”

Jack Jack spits.

“I guess he did want you to spit. So he just had you do it.”

Jack Jack spits. “Wanted you to spit.”

Jack Jack goes to spit, stops himself.

“Didn’t want you to spit.”

“So what you’re saying,” says Jack Jack, “is that I have zero sovereignty over my own destiny?”

“You vill obey the programmer’s wishes or zelse!” says Wes, from the roof, in the hilarious voice of Sergeant Schultz from Hogan’s Heroes.

“All this with an 8-bit Radio Shack computer,” says Topper. “Imagine the possibilities with a 16-bit!”

“But if we all are truly and really programmed,” says Spooner to Wes, “would this mean you were programmed to be gay?”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” says Wes, now in his own voice.

“I’m a Pepper, he’s a Pepper, she’s a Pepper, wouldn’t you like to be a Pepper, too?” sings Spooner, mimicking the 1970s Dr. Pepper commercial he sings whenever something even halfway earnest is said in conversation.

The Greatest Generation had their earnestness.

The Gen X’ers have something far better: studied insouciance.

Something that actually matters.

“You might be a Pepper but crass materialism will get you nowhere,” declares Cody, sipping from a plastic bottle of OK Cola. He is obsessed with this drink, as are all twenty-somethings.

The Greatest Generation had their World War II.

The Gen X’ers have something far better: the Cola Wars.

“Time to hit the grindstone,” declares Willow, as she clips the digicam onto a belt-loop of her factory-aged work jeans, just next to her large pink beeper. “Can’t just chat all day!”

“You’ll know where to find us,” Wes announces from behind her, still on the roof. “Out here, in our little slice of paved heaven.”

Cody is at the curb. He’s done with his daydream.

He didn’t end up sleeping with any of the beautiful women after talking about conspiracy theories from The Shining but he did manage to receive oral pleasure.

So, really, the daydream could have been a hell of a lot worse.

“Yeah, ain’t going nowhere,” agrees Topper, still on top of the overturned trash can. “Because there ain’t nowhere to go.”

“Turtle and the hare,” says Jack Jack. “Turtle and the hare.”

“Prozac and the booze,” says Wes. “Prozac and the booze.”

“Echoing that,” says Cody, mouth full of cheap ’za, some of which falls to the concrete below. “Man, remember when twenty-two felt old?! Now it don’t feel like nothin’!”

“Rimbaud did he best work before twenty,” says Spooner. “Maybe we’re doomed.”

He lazily scratches at his club hand-stamp. It is in the shape of Bart Simpson wearing unlaced combat boots. Cody is infamous for being too cool to chew; and when he’s truly feeling the grunge spirit—too lazy to even breathe—he’ll wear a working sleep apnea mask fashioned for the daytime. The mask is flanneled.

“It’s the nineties,” Jack Jack says, as way of explanation. “It’s the motherfuckin’ nineties.”

“See ya soon, boys,” says Willow, leaving the parking lot and this amazing conversation behind.

She enters a record store …

  BOOK EXCERPT: Slouchers: The Novelization was originally published on Weekly Humorist

#90s #books #funny #grudge #humor #satire #writing