urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:chucksnwafflesa city of youa city of youa city of you2006-12-18T03:24:34Zurn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:chucksnwaffles:741I couldn't think of a clever title...2006-12-18T03:17:01Z2006-12-18T03:24:34ZThe same song had been on repeat since 2:15 am, the time that Rey fell asleep in front of the monitor. It was now four o'clock, and Bob, though tolerant of Rey's love of happy hardcore, was only human.<br /><br /><i>Have you ever smoked a big fat Cuban cigar?<br />Have you ever hitched a ride on a shooting star? <br />Have you ever seen red when it should've been yellow?<br />Whoa-oh have you everSKRRRRRRRRRRTCHzzzZZ!?</i><br /><br /> Rey shot up at the sound of his poor computer shorting out. His bloodshot eyes spotted the culprit. In a rage that was hazy from sleep, he stomped clumsily over to Bob, kicking a pizza box across the hardwood floor on the way. You could tell the apartment was occupied by guys who favored electronics over comortable living. It was decorated with furniture they found on the sidewalk. Their pride in decorating, however, was in the fact that they managed to coordinate a decent layout. Bob now sat on a beat up brown couch (which matched the beige curtains with the spaghetti stains that went oh so well with the giant spool the found out on I-95), reading a copy of <i>The Long, Dark Teatime of the Soul</i> with a relaxed smile upon his face. <br /> <br /> "Jesus tittyfucking Christ!" bellowed Rey. "Would it have killed you to turn the volume down instead?!" His pale face twisted with anger. He was a short man, about five foot six, and weighed just over 130 lbs. His hair was black, and most of the spiked pieces of hair had become frizzy and frayed from being slept on.<br /> <br /> Bob was almost Rey's opposite, a black man about six feet tall, who weighed around 190 lbs. He wore his hair in shoulder length dreads that were kept back sometimes with a rubber band. Bob stared calmly at Rey over the top of his book. The display of anger didn't move him one bit. He knew it would pass, and if not, he could always stuff Rey into the broom closet...again.<br /> <br /> "Look here, Rey-gina. I work all damn night, and when I come home I want to sleep. What I <i>don't</i> want is to come home to a one man rave where the DJ is both asleep and has bad taste in music!" <br /> <br /> Rey stared blankly for a moment. The drugs and glowsticks had messed his brain up enough. That coupled with the fact that he just woke up caused his mind to lag worse than a PC bogged down with trojans. "I do <i>not</i> have bad taste in music!" After a moment of hard thought, he then added, "And don't call me Rey-gina, you douche."<br /> <br /> Bob rolled his eyes. "Anyway, you and I both know that Sean can build you a new computer for nothing. Just call him over."<br /> <br /> "Man, that'll take too long. I have a better idea. I'm calling Satan!"<br /> <br /> It was definitely Bob's turn to give a blank stare. "Satan," he deadpanned.<br /> <br /> "Did I stutter?"<br /> <br /> Bob furrowed his brow. This was, by far, the dumbest thing he had ever heard his friend suggest in all their years together. "...have you been hanging out with the goth kids at the park again? Did Spooky Cliff give you a drink from his Pepsi bottle?"<br /> <br /> "Naw, man. Think about it. I get my computer fixed for practically free! CHA-CHING!" Rey pumped his fists in excitement.<br /> <br /> "If by free you mean paying for your ignorance with a lifetime of eternal torment, then yeah, it's a super idea!"<br /> <br /> Rey's face brightened even more. "I knew you'd like the idea!"<br /> <br /> Bob slumped down into the couch in exasperation. <i>Why, oh why did I ever think living with this E-tard was a good idea?</i> "Rey...I'm calling Sean first thing in the morning. Get some sleep."<br /><br />------------------------------------------------<br /><br />That's the end of the first part. I think it kind of sucks because I always have trouble getting a story started, but tell me what you think.