SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

((Paulo Abbate continued from It's not good, Eric, It's a Gazebo!))

There comes a time in a young man's life when he realizes he needs something more out of life.  When something burns in him, makes him yearn to obtain something.

For Paulo, this time was right after school.  And that something was to update his badass TapOut gear with some new pieces.  He'd been hoarding the allowance that his mom gave him and Alda every week for a month now, and he had enough to throw something into his wardrobe.  Something with shiny designs, and promises of violence to be fulfilled by whoever was wearing it.

So he hopped a bus up to the mall (making eyes at a few of the finer cadelas on the way), and made his way to Sears.  The anchor store rarely let him down when he needed something good.  The way he frequented the place, he was sure the store manager was refilling, just for him, (in reality, the store clerks would regularly make fun of the way he'd walked in with nut-dragging strut and a puffed-out chest; sometimes they'd copy his walk when his back was turned).

He headed to the Men's section.  They had moved the MMA wear, but it was an easy find, once he caught sight of a TapOut hat atop one of the clothing racks.  

Destination found, Paulo planted his feet and started groping his way through the t-shirt rack, loudly.

"Ay, mi amar."  He muttered, clearly pleased with the selection.

[[Michael Mitchllson: Continued from Set Lasers to Fun]]

A man was not a true man without a manly hat. That may or may not be true, but dammit, hats were cool. And so was Michael's rationale as he entered Sears. The mall was only a relatively short walk away from his house, which was quite convenient. Exercise was always good, at least when it didn't require one to go too far out of their way.

His old hat had more than earned its final rest. That hat had seen him through wind, rain, and snow, the best of times and the worst of times, even in the most perilous depths of the most remote ruins! Watching Indiana Jones movies totally counted as actually being in a tomb. Totally. However, any hat, no matter how bitchin', must one day be retired, to live its days doing whatever the hell it is that hats do.  

Michael strolled over to the Men's section of the store, searching out the hat section. An ideal hat was tasteful, aesthetically pleasing yet unobtrusive. No gaudy pattern, dark colors. A true hat accents an appearance, but does not eclipse it! If they're paying more attention to your hat than yourself, then - pffffthahahaaha hats are totally serious fucking business. Before he knew it, he'd be playing that one war-themed hat simulator.

Still smiling to himself a bit, Michael gave the section a through examination. Sure, he wasn't that picky, but he still had standards. He contemplated the selection for a minute, thinking it over. While doing this, he took a quick glance around the store. Not much going on, except for a kid he vaguely recognized from school attacking a t-shirt rack. Some people, man. Some people.

While Paulo was TUFfing out his wardrobe, a kid from school walked up, looking for some shirts or some other merda.  He didn't know.  He was more interested in something else.  He had heard around school that he did Karate, or something like that.  Something involving fighting.  And that meant someone who might be into fighting.  Which was cool.

Paulo eased his way over to the kid, who was face deep in a clothing rack by now, and started the process of getting his attention.

"Hey.  Hey, amigo."  He said.  There was no response, so Paulo tried again, not realizing that his words were falling on deaf ears.

Oblivious to Paulo's efforts to gain his attention, Michael grabbed a hat from the rack in order to examine it more closely. A nice, classy hat! Brown, leather, and most importantly, a fedora! The price was rather reasonable, too. Sidestepping in front of a nearby mirror (still managing to avoid noticing Paulo) Michael donned his new hat, examining his appearance.

Rather nice, rather nice, though it looked suspiciously similar to his old hat. Maybe a shade darker? Well, no need to screw with shit that ain't broken. Variety was nice and all, but at the end of the day, all that really mattered was that he had an awesome hat on top of his head. Michael took the hat off, slowly making his way to the cash register.

Was this burro ignoring Paulo fucking Abbate?

Paulo was stunned into confusion for a second before deciding it was worth his time to follow this fornicador.  He kept trying to get his attention with a constant flow of "amigo", before he settled for grabbing the kid by his arm and giving his bicep a shake.

"You not fuckin' hear me, dude?"  He said as he waited for the kid to turn around.

((Rachael Langdon continued from That After Workout Burn))

It was not often that Rachael found herself in the Men's Department at Sears. She certainly didn't wear anything from that section, nor did she go there when she was in Sears. This visit was different, as she actually had something to look for. Her dad's birthday was coming up, and she needed to find him something nice, especially since he was turning 50. She figured she could find a nice tie or some good cuff links for him. She found her dad's shirt size from her mom and made her way to Sears.

Rachael was currently looking at some shirt and tie boxes. She liked that some clothing designers packaged shirts and ties together, mostly for the deal, but also because it meant she didn't have to kill herself over deciding on what tie to get.

Alright, what does Dad normally wear? Lavender looks nice, so does Burgundy. I guess I could get more than one. I have leftover birthday money and my first paycheck. Then again, that money should go to school, so I probably should get just one.

You not fuckin' hear me, dude?

Rachael immediately looked up from the shirts. That voice was too familiar. She looked around the area and saw the source of the voice.

Oh man, not him.

Paulo Abbate. Rachael felt unpleasant around him. A few months ago he had psyched her out in English class, then went on to insult her figure. Whenever she saw him, all she could think about was how he would whisper in her ear to intimidate her, and then she would worry about if she was too skinny or not. She was never happy to see him.

Rachael then saw who Paulo was talking to. Michael Mitchellson was one of Rachael's oldest friends at Aurora. He was one of the founders of Book Club and Daniel's best friend. He was a pretty cool guy, one who certainly was easy for her to be around. Now he was being accosted in Sears.

Wait, Paulo asked if Michael could hear him. Oh for God's sake!

Rachael set the shirts down and made her way over to the boys.

Oh, what am I doing? Here comes Rachael the Meek, trying to save her friend from the mountain troll.

"Paulo, please don't hurt him," she said. "What's going on?"

Alright! Operation: Buy a Bitchin' Hat is nearing completion! Gonna have to celebrate by rewatching Crusaders of the Lost- argh what the actual fuck? Michael shook the grasping hand off from his arm, angrily whirling around to glare at the dude who had just grabbed him. Who was this asshole? Michael recognized him vaguely as someone from his school, but other than that he was drawing a total blank, not that he gave a shit.

Taking his iPhone from his breast pocket, Michael quickly opened the text-to-speech program, hurriedly typing a message. "Dude, what the hell's your problem? If you're trying to talk to me you're not going to get very fucking far unless you know sign language! Do you normally grope deaf dudes, asshole?" Michael, holding the phone in front of him, played the message. Seriously, a tap on the shoulder would have been fine! Did personal space mean nothing?

Glimpsing a flash of motion to his side, Michael saw Rachael -one of his oldest friends, besides Daniel, and definitely a pretty cool girl- approach them. Dammit. Not that he wasn't happy to see her, but Michael didn't want Paulo to lash out at her. This was his problem, after all. Michael'd feel like shit if she was hurt somehow on his behalf. He absently raised one hand to wave at Rachael, not taking his eyes off of Paulo. Argh, where was Daniel when you needed him? Then he'd at least be able to tell what everyone was saying!

That skinny ho from his Lit class was there, getting up in his business.  Normally he didn't pay attention to girls ain't had ass, but she had planted herself and told Paulo not to hurt the kid.

"Hurt him?  I'm tryna make an amigo here!"  He said, only starting to fume.

Then the kid played the message, his phone speaking like a robot from Star Wars or Star Trek or Star Fuckers or whatever that shit was.

"Sign..Language?"  Paulo said, not understanding.  However, when the comprehension dawned on him, it him like a sack of bricks.  Thrown out of a car window on the expressway.  The irritation drained out of his face, replaced with embarrassment, a rare expression for the half-Brazilian to sport.

"Holy shit, you're deaf?  Desculpe!"  He said, it not getting through his head the kid couldn't hear him apologizing either.

Paulo turned to Rachael.

"Menina, you know how to talk to him?"

Hurt him? I'm tryna make an amigo here!

Rachael winced a bit. How boorish. Paulo really didn't understand self control or personal space. Rachael pitied that, but noticed that Michael was pulling out his phone and using the program he used to talk. Rachael wasn't really fond of the language Michael chose to respond with, but he at least made it clear he was deaf.

Paulo looked pretty flustered. He reacted with shock, something that made Rachael bite her lip. He really didn't know Michael was deaf? Well, he might not know Michael. Michael does have to take special classes at school because of his condition. Still, why would he grab onto Michael like that?

Menina, you know how to talk to him?

Rachael turned back.

"Well, a bit, mostly some stuff his friend has taught me," she said, shaking her head. "Well, I probably can convey whatever you need to say. Why did you approach him like that?"

Rachael wasn't sure why she said that. Sure, she did know some sign language, mostly stuff Daniel could easily teach her or some various statements she looked up, but she never really tried to translate with it. This would probably be a disaster.

Michael studied Paulo's face closely after he played his message, noticing the change from anger to embarrassment. He relaxed a bit, releasing a breath. The situation seemed to be defused, at least. Sorta weird that Paulo had continued talking to him for a bit after he (presumably) recognized that he was deaf, though. Dude didn't seem that quick on the uptake.

Doing his best to at least follow the flow of conversation, Michel stepped back, somewhat awkwardly watching Rachael and Paulo converse, one hand in his jeans pocket. Dammit, yet another conversation he was going to be left out of. Life needed subtitles. Would it actually be possible to do that? Use some sort of machine that interprets audio? Maybe sometime in the future. Probably not soon, considering how pathetic Youtube's auto-subtitle thing was. Good for a quick laugh, at least.

Sighing, Michael continued to stand still, observing his two schoolmates. He'd take the opportunity to casually sneak away, but it'd be kind of a dick move to abandon Rachael like that. Hopefully Paulo would give up and go away soon. Michael rather disliked interacting with people he didn't already know in some fashion, and Paulo didn't exactly seem like a cool guy to hang around with, anyway.

Paulo smiled, confidence and some of his normal bravado restored.

"Ok, cool.  First off, I want you to tell him I know he's into some kinda fighting, martial artsy shit.  Karate or some merda like that."

Paulo leaned against the nearest clothes rack, taking care to not spread so much of his weight on it that it fell over.  He was looking at Michael now, in the hopes the kid could lip read.

"Tell him I got a little fight club going down after school every week, might be cool for him to come out and spar a couple rounds, maybe teach us a couple things, you know?"

Rachael listened as Paulo explained what he wanted her to say to Michael. She felt herself get a little flustered as he explained his fight club.

Oh no. I can't sign any of that. Oh man, I'm going to look so foolish.

"Well, okay, um...." she stammered.

That's when an idea came to her head.

"Oh, hold on. That's a little beyond my ASL comprehension, but I can still talk to him."

Rachael pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and opened the notepad app. She quickly typed a message on it and held it over to Michael.

PAULO KNOWS YOU ARE INTO FIGHTING AND WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU WANT TO JOIN HIS FIGHT CLUB.

It was a pretty bizarre method of communicating in her opinion, but Rachael knew it would be clear enough for Michael to understand.

Wait, if that's all he wanted, then why did he have to forcibly grab Michael?

Michael sighed as he read Rachael's message, though admittedly the thought of modern-day technology being reduced to, essentially, a very expensive piece of paper amused him a bit. Sure, he knew Taekwandoe, but it is really more of a sport than an actual combat style. Anyway, they were breaking the cardinal rule of fight clubs everywhere. Blasphemy.

He typed another message into his phone. I'll think about it. Sorta in a hurry right now, got shit to do, running late as is. So, bye? Of course, said shit was entirely fictitious. Hopefully Paulo wouldn't press the issue, at least for now. Guy may have calmed down, but he still seemed like a bit of a dick, and Michael would rather not be in his company for any longer than necessary.

Michael slowly backed away a bit, still facing the two, getting ready to leave while making sure that no one had any last-minute questions for him. Hopefully there wouldn't be any, today had been enough of a pain in the ass already.

(Gah, incredibly sorry for the delay, this thread sorta just slipped my mind.))

Paulo looked nonplussed that he was being turned down, even if only temporarily.  It was such a great opportunity.  Buncha amigos chillin', exchanging combat knowledge.  It was a real fucking honor, he thought.

But whatever.  He'd come around, maybe.  If not, fuck that puto.

Paulo nodded, gave Michael a little wave as he walked away.

He turned back to Rachael.

"Yeah, anyway, you should come by too.  There's a couple meninas hang around and watch.  Maybe someday one of 'em'll grow some balls and try to fight.  Some real Cyborg Santos shit, you know?"

He gave Rachael one of his unsettling smiles.

Michael answered Paulo's question on his own phone, but also made it clear that he had stuff to do. Rachael was at least glad that Michael wasn't going to do anything foolish with Paulo. She didn't know if anything else was going to happen while they were at Sears, so she sort of stepped back as well.

Paulo then told Michael to consider coming to his fight club, and also extended the invitation to Rachael. She didn't know who Cyborg Santos was, but Paulo's comment made her bite her lip.

Girls growing balls and fighting? What?

Rachael's eyes then widened.

OH GOD, WHY DID I JUST VISUALIZE THAT?!?! OH GOD, EWW!! NO! NO! NO! Think of something else! Dad's shirt! I need to get the shirt!

"Uh yeah," Rachael quickly replied, here eyes darting away from Paulo, "I'll, um, I'll think about it."

Rachael quickly looked at her phone again. She wanted to look like she was checking the time. It was getting late, and it looked like Michael didn't need her help anymore.

"Um, look, I, uh, gotta go buy something and get home, so, um, I'll just be on my way. I'll see you in school, Michael."

Rachael quickly moved away from the two guys, waving at Michael as she walked away. She quickly made her way back to the shirts she was looking at. She randomly grabbed one blue colored shirt package and began to make her way to the register.

This one will do. Yeah, this is good. Dad will like it. Probably. He should. He doesn't complain often. Yeah. I'm good.

Rachael quickly swallowed and began to look for the register. The less time she spent here, the better.

((Rachael Langdon continued elsewhere))