“Hey, Shake, could you get that?”
“Why should I?”
*Ding-dong*
“Because it’s probably someone from the exchange program here to pick up Meatwad.”
“Again, why should I?”
*Ding-dong*
Apparently Shake was still in the “complete and total lethargy” phase of his sulking. “Never mind, I’ll get it.”
Frylock opened the door to see a sharp-dressed man (the kind that every girl crazy ’bout). The man extended his hand, apparently unconcerned that the door was answered by a floating carton of French fries. “Hey there! My name’s Martin Gaskell, but you can call me Marty. I’m with the Exchange Program.”
Not knowing what else to do, Frylock shook the man’s hand. “You must be here to pick up Meatwad. I’ll go get him.”
Shake shuffled over to the newcomer. “Hey, uh, what did you say your name was?”
“Martin Gaskell, but you can call me Marty.”
“Right. Listen, Marty, I think there’s been a slight mistake… you don’t really want Meatwad going to Japan.”
“I don’t.”
“Heh-heh, no, you see, when I filled out the form, I intended to sign up for the program myself.”
“Oh, so you must be Master Shake.”
“Indeed I am. So, how ’bout we just leave right now, before the others get back, since you guys obviously meant to take me—”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”
“What?! Why not?!”
“Well, you see, applicants are judged based on 43 separate categories, and you failed every single one of them—”
“WHAT!?”
“Though I’m not sure how anyone could fail the ‘Favorite Color’ category.”
“There’s something wrong with liking puce?!”
“Yes. In fact, I’ve been told that if I come in physical contact with you, I’ll have to soak myself in industrial-strength disinfectant, so if you could kindly back away…”
“Racist!”
“Huh?”
“Hey, we’re back!” said Frylock, with Meatwad (and his luggage) in tow. The little ball of meat instantly got Marty’s attention.
“Hey, how are you little guy? Aren’t you the cutest thing?” Marty turned back to Frylock. “That’s an interesting pet you have there. What is it?”
“You want it? It’s for sale,” said Shake. “Really low maintenance—in fact, you can neglect him for months, and he’ll still manage to stay alive somehow just to spite you—and I’m speaking from experience here.” There was a definite edge to his voice as he finished his impromptu sales pitch.
Frylock looked very nonplussed as he answered, “This is Meatwad.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Somehow, Marty was able to handle anthropomorphic Milkshakes and French Fries, but he couldn’t get his mind around an amorphous blob of meat having any sort of sentience whatsoever.
“Nope.”
“This is the exchange student?”
“Yes he is.”
“You can’t be serious—can this thing even talk?”
“He needs to talk?” Shake asked rhetorically. “I didn’t know you had to talk to be an exchange student. Looks like you’ll just have to take me instead.”
“Can it, Shake,” admonished Frylock. “Tell the man that you can talk, Meatwad.”
“Course I can talk,” said Meatwad. “I can even speak Japanese, too.”
Marty was taken aback by this claim, but he regained his composure. “[Really? Somehow I doubt that.]”
“[It’s true, an’ if y’all don’t believe me, I’ll bust a cap in yo ass.]”
“What?!” Marty was aghast—kids this violent weren’t supposed to be accepted into the program!
“Oh, I’m sorry, some of that must have gotten lost in translation. You see, I’m trying to make sure I can adequately translate for my dolls while I am in Japan.”
“Dolls?”
“Yeah,” said Meatwad, who was always eager for a chance to introduce his playmates to new people. He opened a suitcase and took out an apple with a smiley face crudely drawn upon it, and used paper towel roll with an equally crudely drawn smile. “This here’s Vanessa, and this is Dewey.” Meatwad then pointed at a cardboard box with a reasonably well-drawn face sporting an Afro wig. “And that’s Boxy Brown.”
“Uh, right,” said Marty. “And which one says things like that?”
“Oh, that’s Boxy Brown—the Duke of New York, A # 1.”
“Yes, well, I suggest you leave him here.”
“Why? He was all excited to go to Japan.”
Marty shifted a bit nervously. “I’m not sure that Japan is really ready for him.”
“Oh.” Meatwad obviously wasn’t happy about this, but he’d have to accept it—it wasn’t his fault Japanese people couldn’t handle Boxy’s baadasssss song. “I’m sorry, Boxy Brown, but the man says you can’t come with us.”
The Man is always tryin’ ta keep a brother down!
Marty and Frylock just stared at Metawad, who was, in turn, staring at a silent cardboard box. Suddenly, Meatwad spoke again, and this time there was a scolding tone to it. “Now, Boxy Brown, you know that’s not a very nice thing to say, especially as he is our guest.”
Marty leaned over to Frylock and whispered, “Who’s he talking to?”
“The box, as far as I can tell.”
“Well, I’m sure he meant no harm even if he did take your brothers from Africa. After all, it’s his job to take people from one place and put them somewhere else, and right now he’s taking me to Japan.”
Another uncomfortable silence followed.
“So, when will our exchange student arrive?” asked Frylock in a desperate attempt to change the subject.
“Oh, she should be here sometime tomorrow.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” interrupted Shake. “Did you say ‘she’? As in ‘of the female persuasion’?”
“Um, yes…”
“I see. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going… to… my room… because I hate goodbyes, you know.”
“Alright…”
Frylock simply rolled his eyes—he had a pretty good idea what Shake was really up to, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to discuss that particular topic in front of impressionable minds (like Meatwad’s). “Alright Meatwad, I guess this is goodbye for now.”
Meatwad sniffled a little. “O-Okay. You’ll take care of Boxy Brown for me while I’m gone, won’t you?”
“Uh, of course I will. Boxy will be just fine while you’re gone.”
Damn right I’ll be fine! Ya’ll best not be messin’ with Boxy Brown!
Meatwad eyed the cardboard box warily. “Don’t let him push you around too much though. He’s may have a lot of attitude, but that’s what makes him special, but sometimes you have to be firm.”
“Uh, right.”
“He explained to me once. You see, he’s a complicated man—”
“But no one understands him but his woman?”
“Hey, that’s right! How’d you know?”
“Uh, let’s just call it an educated guess.”
“Well, I can see that Boxy Brown is in good hands, so I can head off to Japan with a clear conscience.” The ball of USDA Sure-As-Hell-Not-Approved unidentified ground meat product picked up his suitcase and jambox and followed the employee of the Board of Education to his car.
“Alright, bye, Meatwad! Have fun in Japan!”
As his friend left, Frylock wondered what to with the afro-sporting cardboard box. “Well, Boxy, I guess the best way for me to take care of you is to make sure Shake doesn’t try to put you through a shredder, set you on fire, or otherwise destroy you.” He paused, half expecting the box to start speaking. “Anyway, we— I mean I’d better see what Shake is doing.”
To absolutely no one’s surprise, Soun was crying. “(Sniff) My baby girl’s… (sniff) all grown up… and (sniff) going away! WAAAH!”
“There, there, Daddy,” replied Nabiki, who was doing her best to placate her father’s severe attack of Empty Nest Syndrome, if only to get him to stop hugging her so tightly so she could actually leave. “It’s only for a semester—I’ll be back before you know it.” This convinced the Tendo patriarch to loosen his grip, allowing his middle daughter to head closer to the edge of the her family’s property, where a taxi was waiting to take her to Narita International Airport.
“Take care of yourself, sis,” said Akane.
“Don’t worry—somehow, I think that not being in Nerima is going to make that a lot easier.”
“You did remember to pack that cookbook full of easy-to-make recipes?”
“Of course, Kasumi.” Nabiki’s attention turned to a certain pigtailed martial artist, who looked rather restless. “Is something wrong, Ranma?”
“Huh? Oh, nuthin’ really—it’s just that I’ve got this weird feelin’ that somethin’ bad’s about ta happen…”
“It’s nice of you to be paranoid, Ranma, but I think that my father has that covered.”
“I guess.”
“Well, then, if there’s nothing else…”
“Oh, but there is!” came an all-too-familiar voice. “SWEE—OWWwwwwwwww…” Happosai didn’t get the chance for a “goodbye squeeze,” as Ranma sent him flying towards the Tokyo city limits.
“I knew somethin’ bad was comin’.”
“Thanks, Ranma.”
“Don’t mention it.”
After taking one last look around, Nabiki gathered all of her things. “Well, I’ll see you all in a few months! Bye!”
“Goodbye!” chorused her friends and family.
With a smile on her face, Nabiki got into the taxi.
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(Posted Sun, 26 Feb 2006 20:44)
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