“So, Meatwad, where exactly are you from again?” asked Soun, who was doing his best to make some sort of conversation until Kasumi returned.
“I’m from New Jersey. That’s in America,” Meatwad clarified helpfully.
“Um, that’s not quite what I meant… where did you come from?”
“Well, I just came from the airport, but before that, I was in another airport, and before that, I was in another airport which was in New Jersey. That’s in America.”
“But how did you get there?”
“Well, this nice man from the exchange program picked me up and we drove there in a car—”
“No, I mean, um… could someone help me out here?”
“How the hell can you even exist?” tried Genma.
“Huh?”
“How is it possible for a ball of meat to come alive?”
“Pops, do ya want me ta get pummeled or somethin’? I mean, there’s ‘too easy,’ and then there’s just flat-out setups,” Ranma said, ignoring Akane’s glare.
“I wasn’t talking to you, boy,” replied Genma. The portly martial artist turned his attention back to the newcomer. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Aren’t you going to answer?”
“Answer what?”
“My question!”
“Oh, right. What was it again?”
“Where did you come from?”
“I came from New Jersey. That’s in—”
“—America. We know,” said Akane. “Look, do you know who your parents were?”
“Uh… does Frylock count?”
“Who’s Frylock?”
“He’s my roommate.”
“Is he your father?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know what parents are?”
“Uh…”
“I’m thinkin’ that’s a ‘no,’” interjected Ranma. “Yer all doin’ a great job at this, by the way.”
“I suppose you think you can do better?”
“I guess I could give it a shot. Hey, Meatwad.”
“Yeah?”
“D’ya know how ya were born?”
“Huh? Oh… you mean like ‘the birds and the bees’. Yeah, I know about that.”
“Well, let’s hear it.”
Meatwad was glad — here was a subject he could actually talk about. “Well, once upon a time, there was this bird named DJ Kwak-Kwak (he went by that name ’cuz he was a duck, see?), who loved to spin the wheels of steel and drop some phat beats, yaknowhati’msayin? And his madd skillz caught the attention of a fly honey (that’s street talk for bee) named Roshana….”
“But Roshana’s pimp wasn’t ’bout to let Kwak-Kwak have his way with her—least not without payin’, anyway, so he and his thugz got their guns… I mean, their gunz… um, actually, I can’t remember what the cool way to say ‘gun’ is, but you know what I mean. Anyway, they headed down to the club where Kwak spun his trax….
“Boot to the head! Boot to the head! Boot to the head! Boot to the head….”
“And when it was all over, Roshana ran to his arms, and she was like, ‘That was so cool! Y’all wanna do it?’ and Kwak-Kwak was like, ‘Hell, yeah, biatch.’ So he put on some Barry White, and then it was all like, ‘Oh yeah! YEAH! Ungh… Who’s your daddy? Who’s your daddy? WHO’S YOUR DADDY?!’”
“And they might have lived happily ever after, except about a month later, DJ Kwak-Kwak left town. I’m not sure why, but it was something about not getting tied down by a kid. I guess I could understand that — if some little kid tied me up, I’d want to leave town, too. Anyway, that’s the story of the birds and the bees.”
Meatwad looked around at his audience and noticed the large globules of perspiration each person had. “Wow, when you guys sweat over here, you go all out!”
“I’m done! Have you had a good time getting to know everyone, Meatwad?”
The exchange student smiled at his hostess. “Uh-huh.”
“Good! Why don’t you have a look at your room. It’s the second door on the left after you go upstairs.”
“Okay!”
As soon as Meatwad was out of sight, Akane asked, “Kasumi, where the hell could something like that come from?”
“Oh, he’s from New Jersey. That’s in America.” Kasumi hummed a cheerful tune as she carefully stepped over the prone bodies in front of her on her way to the kitchen.
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(Posted Sun, 02 Apr 2006 02:00)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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