Frylock cocked an eyebrow as he watched his roommate’s attempt to drag the worn-out recliner from the living room into Nabiki’s room. “Shake, what the hell are you doing?” As it if wasn’t obvious.
“What do you think I’m doing? I am being a responsible Master” — Frylock could hear Shake’s capitalization — “and I am acquiring the furnishings that will allow my slave to properly service me.”
“Uh huh. So why are you moving the recliner into her room.”
“So we can have sex on it, moron!”
“Right. Well, you see Shake, there’s a slight problem with that.”
“Oh, great, what now? You gonna tell me that Japanese people don’t use chairs?”
“Actually, no, it isn’t traditional for Japanese people to use chairs.”
“Dammit! I don’t care! She came here to learn about American culture, and in America, we have sex in La-Z-Boys!”
“Suit yourself, but that’s not the problem I was talking about.”
“Ugh… the what is your problem?”
“I was the one who paid for that chair, therefore it’s mine and you need my permission to use it.”
“Lemme guess. I ain’t gonna get it.”
“Wow. I’m impressed, Shake. You really are capable of learning.”
“Shut up.”
“Wow….” said a stunned Meatwad, who’d just listened to Ranma’s Jusenkyo narrative.
“Yeah, so anyway,” continued the still-damp redhead, “that’s why I’m a girl now.”
“Oh, I get it. They botched the surgery.”
“Huh?” Ranma was not expecting this response.
“Hey, it’s okay, If it happened to me, I’d make up a stupid story like that, too. But I want you to know, and I’m serious, that I will not judge you just because you are different, because that would make me like Shake, and he’s a jerk and nobody likes him.”
“But you don’t understand… I can go back to being male—I just need hot water.” Ranma took the steaming kettle that Kasumi had produced and poured it over her head, changing back to his male form. “See?”
“Damn! I knew from that TV show about medical accidents that weird stuff sometimes happened, whoever was operating on you musta been on marijuana, or one of the many illicit substances that the TV commercials say people use after marijuana—they say it’s a gateway drug.”
“Ugh… I already told you, I got a curse!”
“Uh huh.” Meatwad was obviously not convinced. “Well, Shake says that curses are made up by the Catholic Church, and The Da Vinci Code proved it, which is why he can say ‘F**k’ whenever he wants to, but I’ve never read it, so I don’t think I can do that—uh, you guys won’t tell God I said ‘F**k,’ right?”
“Look, I know it’s hard ta believe in magic—”
“Wait, magic? You mean like Harry Potter?”
“Uh… I guess…”
“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?!”
“You mean you believe me?”
“You mean about the cursed springs?”
“Yes.”
“Hell no! Shake says curses are—”
Akane cut him off. “Made up by the Catholic Church. We heard you the first time. But if you don’t believe in magic—”
“You bet I believe in magic. That’s how Dewey won the Republican nomination for Senator in North Dakota. That, and his opponent had this thing for pickles…”
Akane chose to ignore Meatwad’s dubious reasons for believing in magic for the time being. “But magic explains why Ranma… um, changes?”
Meatwad high-pitched voice took on professorial tone (okay, maybe it was just a T.A., but it was pretty close) as he explained, “Obviously, the doctors were using magic while they were smoking marijuana, which would explain your current predicament.”
“Is he for real?” Akane quietly asked.
“Who knows?” replied Ranma. “Right now, I’m wonderin’ if he’ll be able ta get Kuno ta buy that line.”
“Now, uh, use guys are sure that this stuff’ll work, right? ’Cuz lemme tell ya, this Japanese babe is one hot piece of ass. I mean, I’m seriously considering taking out Frampton Comes Alive! for this girl, and I don’t do that for just nobody, you know.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” The wearied looking clerk at Crazy Ernie’s Amazing Emporium of Total Bargain Madness!!™ just wanted this fat guy to leave—he was scaring away some of their best customers (and considering how creepy the average patron of Crazy Ernie’s was, that was saying quite a bit). The clerk rang up the charges. “That’ll be $761.42.”
“Uh, will you, uh, take a post-dated check?”
“I’ll have to ask my manager.” The clerk knew the answer was “no,” but he went off to find his manager, Ernie (no relation to “Crazy Ernie”), simply because it gave him a reason to not be in the vicinity of the hairy guy in the wife-beater and flip-flops.
“Oh, uh, all right then. Just don’t take too long—I, uh, wanna get back before she, ya know, leaves the area around my house.”
"Man, this totally bites."
"I am aware of that, Err," Ignignokt replied to his hot pink friend.
"C'mon, man. We've already gone over the ruins of this damn palace who knows how many times, and we still haven't found anything we can blow up OR get high off of, except maybe that huge-ass picture of the girl with the weird hairdo. Are those supposed to be meatballs or something?"
The mention of meatballs got Ignignokt’s 8-bit mind churning. "Hmmm... Perhaps we can entertain ourselves by toying with the primitive Earthlings again."
"You mean we're going to mess with Meatwad's head again?"
"Precisely."
"Eh... why not?" The two representatives of the great Mooninite civilization entered their spaceship (which, despite its blocky appearance, was so far beyond the technology of anyone else it wasn’t even funny) and headed towards the Earth.
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(Posted Sun, 09 Apr 2006 08:05)
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