{{continued from I Played Baseball With My Younger Brother}}
The prom. To many, one of the most important moments in a teenager's life, and for Hiro it was certainly important. Or at least, it was while she had somebody to go with. After asking out Zeke, she of course had one or two romantic fantasies about going to prom in the time between then and when their first date was supposed to happen. And then she got stood up at their date and never heard from him again, and those fantasies pretty much vanished.
A while after she started getting over it, she considered going again, only for her mind to entertain thoughts of what the other students would think of her being there by herself.
"Oh hey, look at that tiny girl over there all by herself. Probably couldn't find a date. I mean look at her. Who'd want a sickly little stick girl like that? Just looking at her's making me depressed."
Okay, so they probably wouldn't say anything like that. They'd probably just pay as little attention to her as they do now. But unfortunately, whenever Hiro's insecurity picked up, that's what everyone around her was thinking as far as she was concerned. Okay, so maybe she could ask someone else out. Someone like...like...uh...
...yeah, Hiro couldn't really think of anybody else. And even if she could, it took all her courage just to ask Zeke out. She didn't think she could handle rejection like that so soon.
And then suddenly an opportunity came in a very unexpected place. There was a website she frequented where she posted some of her writings in order to get critique and improve, and after several months she got to know another one of the regulars, who always seemed very nice, giving harsh but fair critiques on her writings and such. About half a year later, she was VERY surprised to learn that not only did they live in the same place, but they went to the same school as well. No way. That wasn't possible. That was like, bad film writing levels of contrivance. If she had more of a sense of humor she'd probably ask if he also liked piña coladas and getting caught in the rain.
She'd found herself wondering who exactly this guy was supposed to be more than a few times. She had the entire student body to pick from, after all. She could've probably just asked, but for some reason, she could never really bring herself too. Of course, eventually talk of prom came up, as did the fact that Hiro was dateless and probably not going. That's when another unexpected thing happened: the guy offered to take her. It came as a huge surprise, and after a day of considering it, she finally agreed. Oh sure, thoughts like "pity date" and "you seriously had to find a prom date over the internet? What kind of a loser are you?" crossed her mind, but Hiro did her best to ignore them.
Surprisingly, her parents decided to let her go through with it, on the condition that the boy in question come to her house and they chaperone them to the prom, so that they could make sure he wasn't a serial killer hunting women over the internet or something like that. But then came the part that Hiro had completely forgotten about and dreaded: getting a dress.
Hoo boy, getting a dress. Hiro was never one to wear anything girly. In her mind, girly stuff only served to accentuate the "so skinny and frail you could break her in half over your knee" physique she hated so much. It took a while, but she managed to talk her mother down from getting the frilliest damn thing she could find and settle for a modest black number, and in turn she had to be talked down from wearing a jacket over it to cover up her arms.
And now, at the day of the prom, Hiro waited, and she fussed, and she waited and stressed and fussed and stressed until her anemia kicked in and she had to go lie down for a little bit, trying to ignore that voice in her head going "He's gonna take one look at you and go 'Ew, I don't want anything to do with that.'" Shut up, voice. This is going to be a good day and you're not going to ruin it, dammit.
Getting Prom Dates Over The Internet For Fun and Profit
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Super Llama†
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Getting Prom Dates Over The Internet For Fun and Profit
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((Carlos to be continued from Recruitment Drive))
The prom. The last great milestone before graduation and the freedom to get the fuck out of this shithole neighborhood and away from everyone the fuck else. Electronic music, robotic Barbies and Kens in Stepford tuxes and dresses wanting to dance upon their bridges before they burned them for college and rebuilt them for the reunion. The epitome of high school social stratification.
Yet as much as he knew that his presence would be akin to that of an honest SPD officer at a gathering of pimps and hoes (one that he'd hoped was the theme) the last thing Carlos Lazaro wanted to do was not go to the prom, as much as it was simultaneously the one thing he knew he could not complete his cumulative prom experience without. This was the prom, goddammit, and if he was going to leave an impression on the school it would have to be here, now more than ever.
If only he'd actually figured out how that impression would be made before the event was practically upon him, preparing to leave him curled up on his bedsheets with a twenty-dollar bill for not disappointing it. Every clichéd idea out of a movie had crossed his mind, to him stealing the hot babe for a solo dance to Inoj's cover of Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time" to deliberately getting bullied and covered with pig's blood so he could blow up the school with some Akira-ish latent psychic powers.
Despite his utter lack of planning, the one thing that saved him from totally panicking, was that he definitely had someone in mind to ask. The relieving part about that being that he didn't have to reveal to his current relatives that he was asking a guy to the prom. All he did was tell them that he was a girl (because Christians get all uppity about that sort of thing apparently) and that "she" was a classmate and most importantly, not a whore. And since he'd markedly improved since he first arrived, they'd allow him his first significant freedom of going without a chaperone.
Of course, it was really not so much a relief to him as it was to them, though getting them off his back about it was a start.
And it certainly wasn't a relief at first that WTHisaHufflepuff had openly and willingly given him his address after explaining that he had approximately the exact same situation. But then again, the critique and review process between them had been surprisingly consistent if not academic. Perhaps whoever this lonely guy was was ready to take the next step to an actual relationship.
Or maybe he'd just purchased a one-way ticket on the rape train to AIDSville and a lifetime of counseling. The kind of ride that all his "Alien Assault Trooper barracks hijinks" roleplay sessions could have prepared him for. That was if he didn't execute his ultra-paranoiac contingency plan of heading to a late night movie to skip the prom altogether and saying he had a grand old time and that "she" was kind, pretty, and not quite willing to have sex as much as he in his hormonal urges would predictably wish.
And that contingency plan would've been fine with him had he not also taken the time to look up the neighborhood and every sex offender registered in the area where WTHisHufflepuff lived and found no matches.
And so, it was after a brief trip to Goodwill and the dry cleaners that Carlos Lazaro found himself pressing the doorbell of a rather innocent house in a rather innocent neighborhood in a rather innocent way hoping he wasn't about to board the one-way rape train to AIDSville.
At the very best, it was an opportunity that would lead to the first, likely the best, and more likely the last gay sex he would ever have. At the worst, he'd probably wake up in some alley in Chinatown naked, broke, bruised and itching in all the wrong places. At the "Worst. Possible. Thing." worse, he might wake up in some alley in Chinatown naked, broke, bruised and itching in the wrong places, and discovered and taken in by that creepy smiley cashier that always took his place back at the store who he suddenly remembered lived in that area.
Had I known better, I would've put on that cheap hooker getup. Then I'd probably feel a little better if Frank found me.
Not that he'd let anyone outside his room know about his cheap hooker getup.
Ding dong.
It then suddenly dawned on him that this WTHisHufflepuff fellow could as well be some acne-infested manwhale that was probably more reclusive than he was, and his fist clenched tight as he withdrew it. He gulped as he awaited his first glimpse of his fellow critique, then suddenly getting the subsequent realization that he may or may not have previously graced said manwhale with his famous dialogue, which may or may not lead to possible revenge and humiliation during the prom.
But there was no turning back. Somewhere between the best gay sex of his life and waking up in an alley in Chinatown was the fact that this was the last great milestone before he got the fuck out of this town and consigned the occasion to a couple of nasty tweets and Facebook posts.
"Welp. It w-was a good run," he muttered to himself, briefly reflecting on his stuttering the 'w' before returning to his semi-fearful anticipation.
The prom. The last great milestone before graduation and the freedom to get the fuck out of this shithole neighborhood and away from everyone the fuck else. Electronic music, robotic Barbies and Kens in Stepford tuxes and dresses wanting to dance upon their bridges before they burned them for college and rebuilt them for the reunion. The epitome of high school social stratification.
Yet as much as he knew that his presence would be akin to that of an honest SPD officer at a gathering of pimps and hoes (one that he'd hoped was the theme) the last thing Carlos Lazaro wanted to do was not go to the prom, as much as it was simultaneously the one thing he knew he could not complete his cumulative prom experience without. This was the prom, goddammit, and if he was going to leave an impression on the school it would have to be here, now more than ever.
If only he'd actually figured out how that impression would be made before the event was practically upon him, preparing to leave him curled up on his bedsheets with a twenty-dollar bill for not disappointing it. Every clichéd idea out of a movie had crossed his mind, to him stealing the hot babe for a solo dance to Inoj's cover of Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time" to deliberately getting bullied and covered with pig's blood so he could blow up the school with some Akira-ish latent psychic powers.
Despite his utter lack of planning, the one thing that saved him from totally panicking, was that he definitely had someone in mind to ask. The relieving part about that being that he didn't have to reveal to his current relatives that he was asking a guy to the prom. All he did was tell them that he was a girl (because Christians get all uppity about that sort of thing apparently) and that "she" was a classmate and most importantly, not a whore. And since he'd markedly improved since he first arrived, they'd allow him his first significant freedom of going without a chaperone.
Of course, it was really not so much a relief to him as it was to them, though getting them off his back about it was a start.
And it certainly wasn't a relief at first that WTHisaHufflepuff had openly and willingly given him his address after explaining that he had approximately the exact same situation. But then again, the critique and review process between them had been surprisingly consistent if not academic. Perhaps whoever this lonely guy was was ready to take the next step to an actual relationship.
Or maybe he'd just purchased a one-way ticket on the rape train to AIDSville and a lifetime of counseling. The kind of ride that all his "Alien Assault Trooper barracks hijinks" roleplay sessions could have prepared him for. That was if he didn't execute his ultra-paranoiac contingency plan of heading to a late night movie to skip the prom altogether and saying he had a grand old time and that "she" was kind, pretty, and not quite willing to have sex as much as he in his hormonal urges would predictably wish.
And that contingency plan would've been fine with him had he not also taken the time to look up the neighborhood and every sex offender registered in the area where WTHisHufflepuff lived and found no matches.
And so, it was after a brief trip to Goodwill and the dry cleaners that Carlos Lazaro found himself pressing the doorbell of a rather innocent house in a rather innocent neighborhood in a rather innocent way hoping he wasn't about to board the one-way rape train to AIDSville.
At the very best, it was an opportunity that would lead to the first, likely the best, and more likely the last gay sex he would ever have. At the worst, he'd probably wake up in some alley in Chinatown naked, broke, bruised and itching in all the wrong places. At the "Worst. Possible. Thing." worse, he might wake up in some alley in Chinatown naked, broke, bruised and itching in the wrong places, and discovered and taken in by that creepy smiley cashier that always took his place back at the store who he suddenly remembered lived in that area.
Had I known better, I would've put on that cheap hooker getup. Then I'd probably feel a little better if Frank found me.
Not that he'd let anyone outside his room know about his cheap hooker getup.
Ding dong.
It then suddenly dawned on him that this WTHisHufflepuff fellow could as well be some acne-infested manwhale that was probably more reclusive than he was, and his fist clenched tight as he withdrew it. He gulped as he awaited his first glimpse of his fellow critique, then suddenly getting the subsequent realization that he may or may not have previously graced said manwhale with his famous dialogue, which may or may not lead to possible revenge and humiliation during the prom.
But there was no turning back. Somewhere between the best gay sex of his life and waking up in an alley in Chinatown was the fact that this was the last great milestone before he got the fuck out of this town and consigned the occasion to a couple of nasty tweets and Facebook posts.
"Welp. It w-was a good run," he muttered to himself, briefly reflecting on his stuttering the 'w' before returning to his semi-fearful anticipation.
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Super Llama†
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((shortpost is short))
A moment after the doorbell rang, the door opened and a 50-something year-old Asian man with glasses opened the door, a look of intense scrutiny on his face.
"Are you 'Firedraken'?"
A moment after the doorbell rang, the door opened and a 50-something year-old Asian man with glasses opened the door, a look of intense scrutiny on his face.
"Are you 'Firedraken'?"
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For about the first second or two after glimpsing what was obviously his potential date's dad , Carlos' mind predictably latched onto the stereotype that - long stereotype short - resulted in him regretting that he didn't bring his cheap hooker getup. Sure, a cursory glance of the house inside looked rather ordinary with the occasional decorating denoting the occupants' heritage in order to distinguish it from the rest of the houses in the neighborhood.
Hell, maybe it was his allegedly-innate-Asperger's-induced inability to read people's reactions, but the way the man seemed to be eyeing him up could as well have been either sizing up his latest victim as much as it was making sure that the man who would take his daughter to prom wasn't, say, a registered sex offender in five states. And although Carlos personally subscribed to the theory that his "condition" was just a parental cop-out of an internet disease, he was very sorely tempted to mention that he was a registered sex offender in five states.
In short, he figured he was probably looking at his actual date, and they wouldn't actually go to the prom, hinthintwinkwink.
"Yes...I'm Carlos Lazaro...I go by Firedraken on the internet," he began, roughly but still sounding more confident than his inner anti-conscience would allow.
Fuck. Why the hell'd I ever choose that nickname again? I probably would've been less obvious using some kind of stupid username based off my own last name.
His hand immediately went for his tux pants' pocket. His anti-conscience was hoping he'd pull out his phone and call 911, bolting as fast as he could down the street. Instead, "rationale" prevailed long enough for him to retrieve his wallet, with his student ID card inserted lovingly where everyone else put their driver's license.
"I go to school with your...erm..." Okay, so maybe he could've gotten the lie that he wasn't asking a guy out to prom past his own parents, but trying to get it past Fiendish Doctor Wu here? Fat fucking chance.
"Your son and I are going to go pick up our dates for prom," the excuse stuttered out of Carlos' mouth like a bad exhaust pipe, and he looked down at his hastily-shined shoes shyly as he held out the wallet with the ID card inside.
Total fucking uke right now. Hopefully he'll leave my insurance card so at least I don't pay out the ass when I check in for rehab.
Hell, maybe it was his allegedly-innate-Asperger's-induced inability to read people's reactions, but the way the man seemed to be eyeing him up could as well have been either sizing up his latest victim as much as it was making sure that the man who would take his daughter to prom wasn't, say, a registered sex offender in five states. And although Carlos personally subscribed to the theory that his "condition" was just a parental cop-out of an internet disease, he was very sorely tempted to mention that he was a registered sex offender in five states.
In short, he figured he was probably looking at his actual date, and they wouldn't actually go to the prom, hinthintwinkwink.
"Yes...I'm Carlos Lazaro...I go by Firedraken on the internet," he began, roughly but still sounding more confident than his inner anti-conscience would allow.
Fuck. Why the hell'd I ever choose that nickname again? I probably would've been less obvious using some kind of stupid username based off my own last name.
His hand immediately went for his tux pants' pocket. His anti-conscience was hoping he'd pull out his phone and call 911, bolting as fast as he could down the street. Instead, "rationale" prevailed long enough for him to retrieve his wallet, with his student ID card inserted lovingly where everyone else put their driver's license.
"I go to school with your...erm..." Okay, so maybe he could've gotten the lie that he wasn't asking a guy out to prom past his own parents, but trying to get it past Fiendish Doctor Wu here? Fat fucking chance.
"Your son and I are going to go pick up our dates for prom," the excuse stuttered out of Carlos' mouth like a bad exhaust pipe, and he looked down at his hastily-shined shoes shyly as he held out the wallet with the ID card inside.
Total fucking uke right now. Hopefully he'll leave my insurance card so at least I don't pay out the ass when I check in for rehab.
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Super Llama†
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The man at the door continued to stare right into this strange boy's soul, though the look of scrutiny changed ever so slightly into one of minor confusion when he mentioned the son they had.
"Shiori, do we have a son I don't know about?" He called back into the living room while the sound of someone else approaching the door could be heard.
"Alright, you caught me. That was my deep, dark secret I've been keeping this whole time." A female voice said sarcastically before a hand reached out and swatted the man's shoulder playfully and opening the door further to reveal a 50-something year old asian woman that was probably the mother.
"Come on in. Hiro! Your internet friend is here!" She called out behind her.
----------
Oh crap.
Hiro bolted upright from her bed, straightening out her dress as she made her way down the stairs, nervous as hell as to what his reaction might be, and also who the hell this guy is. Getting to the bottom of the stairs and walking into the living room, Hiro saw...
...
Someone she didn't recognize.
...huh. With all the buildup, she figured this Firedraken guy would at least be someone she knew. Hmm...maybe she saw him a few times in the halls, but she certainly couldn't put a name to a face. Oh well, that kind of amazing coincidence only really happened in movies and such anyway. It was already an amazing coincidence that they were from the same school.
"Uh...h-h-hi..." She stuttered, probably aware that Firedraken wasn't expecting a meek, 100 lb anemic girl (though not aware of exactly how much of that defied expectations.)
"Shiori, do we have a son I don't know about?" He called back into the living room while the sound of someone else approaching the door could be heard.
"Alright, you caught me. That was my deep, dark secret I've been keeping this whole time." A female voice said sarcastically before a hand reached out and swatted the man's shoulder playfully and opening the door further to reveal a 50-something year old asian woman that was probably the mother.
"Come on in. Hiro! Your internet friend is here!" She called out behind her.
----------
Oh crap.
Hiro bolted upright from her bed, straightening out her dress as she made her way down the stairs, nervous as hell as to what his reaction might be, and also who the hell this guy is. Getting to the bottom of the stairs and walking into the living room, Hiro saw...
...
Someone she didn't recognize.
...huh. With all the buildup, she figured this Firedraken guy would at least be someone she knew. Hmm...maybe she saw him a few times in the halls, but she certainly couldn't put a name to a face. Oh well, that kind of amazing coincidence only really happened in movies and such anyway. It was already an amazing coincidence that they were from the same school.
"Uh...h-h-hi..." She stuttered, probably aware that Firedraken wasn't expecting a meek, 100 lb anemic girl (though not aware of exactly how much of that defied expectations.)
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Carlos' jaw wedged itself half-open in surprise as he saw what he hoped was his date descend the staircase.
Conversely, Firedraken was hardly expecting WTHisHufflepuff to be...a girl. Granted she was one that even he with his wiry frame and girly arms could probably snap in two over his leg, though one that possessed a reasonably modest beauty in that dress of hers, but it was a girl nonetheless.
Perhaps the one thing that confused him most of all was the fact that he couldn't recall insulting her despite her looking every bit like he probably did, several times over the past month alone. But then again, with a habit for insulting practically everyone that got within inches of him save for the Volunteer Club he had inexplicably helped out of obscurity, it was quite hard to remember the individual traits of every single classmate he had graced with the Tongue of Laz unless they presented themselves to him in person.
"Yeah, I'm Carlos and-..." The one thing Carlos was pretty sure of at this point was that it was hard to make friends after becoming so good at intentionally making enemies. What was that they said about keeping them close anyway?
The one thing he was abso-positively-definitely sure of was that he was still standing on their doorstep, literally soaking his tux with worry.
"...can I come in?" he asked. "And...uh...do I have to take my shoes off or something?"
This...was going to be awkward.
Conversely, Firedraken was hardly expecting WTHisHufflepuff to be...a girl. Granted she was one that even he with his wiry frame and girly arms could probably snap in two over his leg, though one that possessed a reasonably modest beauty in that dress of hers, but it was a girl nonetheless.
Perhaps the one thing that confused him most of all was the fact that he couldn't recall insulting her despite her looking every bit like he probably did, several times over the past month alone. But then again, with a habit for insulting practically everyone that got within inches of him save for the Volunteer Club he had inexplicably helped out of obscurity, it was quite hard to remember the individual traits of every single classmate he had graced with the Tongue of Laz unless they presented themselves to him in person.
"Yeah, I'm Carlos and-..." The one thing Carlos was pretty sure of at this point was that it was hard to make friends after becoming so good at intentionally making enemies. What was that they said about keeping them close anyway?
The one thing he was abso-positively-definitely sure of was that he was still standing on their doorstep, literally soaking his tux with worry.
"...can I come in?" he asked. "And...uh...do I have to take my shoes off or something?"
This...was going to be awkward.
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Super Llama†
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Hiro's father raised an eyebrow at Carlos' question about removing his shoes. "No, just as long as you aren't tracking dirt in the house." He replied.
Indeed, it was turning out to be an awkward start, as that stuttered "Hi" seemed to be all that Hiro could muster for a few moments. It took a bit, but finally Hiro's mom broke the awkward silence.
"So, uh...Carlos, right? Hiro told me you critique her writing." She says, making conversation.
"Y-yeah, that's right..." Hiro chimed in in agreement.
Indeed, it was turning out to be an awkward start, as that stuttered "Hi" seemed to be all that Hiro could muster for a few moments. It took a bit, but finally Hiro's mom broke the awkward silence.
"So, uh...Carlos, right? Hiro told me you critique her writing." She says, making conversation.
"Y-yeah, that's right..." Hiro chimed in in agreement.
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If Carlos was feeling more hipster than he was right now - or rather, feeling like mocking hipsters more than he was right now - he would have immediately and reflexively referred to what he did as beta reading and that critique was just some childish way of putting it.
"Yes. We share writing with each other, and we help each other become better writers."
Which translated to - it's one big shipping circlejerk for our otps and dream pairings so kawaii~ <3 <3 <3 XDDDD. Yeah, it was all one big laugh to mock every goddamn weeaboo and their habits while he indulged yourself in Korean MMOs curled up on his broken computer seat in his goddamn mancave. But it was no laughing matter to try to suppress several threads worth of material in front of someone he had every intention not to piss off.
And what especially kept Carlos looking very visibly worried was that there was something about what he said that felt, quite simply, like it wasn't staged.
Like he was actually having a genuine conversation with people that weren't relatives and actually trying to impress someone that probably would have no use as a professional reference somewhere down the road.
And right now he wanted so bad to just end this with an insult and skip the prom and placate his misery at the usual 7-11 near his store on Capitol Hill and-
Oh fuck, I'm already in the house.
His shoes hadn't thankfully left any prints on the way in, but any moment now there was bound to be some other bodily fluid on the carpet.
"So...um..." he continued with a pronounced shyness, "How are you this...evening?"
"Yes. We share writing with each other, and we help each other become better writers."
Which translated to - it's one big shipping circlejerk for our otps and dream pairings so kawaii~ <3 <3 <3 XDDDD. Yeah, it was all one big laugh to mock every goddamn weeaboo and their habits while he indulged yourself in Korean MMOs curled up on his broken computer seat in his goddamn mancave. But it was no laughing matter to try to suppress several threads worth of material in front of someone he had every intention not to piss off.
And what especially kept Carlos looking very visibly worried was that there was something about what he said that felt, quite simply, like it wasn't staged.
Like he was actually having a genuine conversation with people that weren't relatives and actually trying to impress someone that probably would have no use as a professional reference somewhere down the road.
And right now he wanted so bad to just end this with an insult and skip the prom and placate his misery at the usual 7-11 near his store on Capitol Hill and-
Oh fuck, I'm already in the house.
His shoes hadn't thankfully left any prints on the way in, but any moment now there was bound to be some other bodily fluid on the carpet.
"So...um..." he continued with a pronounced shyness, "How are you this...evening?"
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Super Llama†
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"I-I'm doing alright." Hiro replied, keeping the awkward conversation going. Seriously, come on. You've known him for a while already, even if you've never met him in person before now. Quit acting like he's gonna leap in and bite off your face if you speak up at all.
"Well, why don't we sit down so we can get to know each other." Hiro's mom finally spoke up, gesturing to the living room. Hiro nodded, heading in, though her dad had to be prodded into doing so instead of just standing there and eying Carlos as if judging whether or not he was gonna pull out a knife and start stabbing anything in reach.
"O-oh." Hiro suddenly remembered, looking back at Carlos. "That story I posted. I-I don't think I got anything back about it yet. What did you think?" A short while ago she posted the murder mystery story she wrote for class, hoping to get a bit more feedback before she moved on to the final draft, just in class she made any horrible, glaring mistakes that nobody managed to catch yet. She was always paranoid about making huge mistakes and slip-ups when she wrote.
"Well, why don't we sit down so we can get to know each other." Hiro's mom finally spoke up, gesturing to the living room. Hiro nodded, heading in, though her dad had to be prodded into doing so instead of just standing there and eying Carlos as if judging whether or not he was gonna pull out a knife and start stabbing anything in reach.
"O-oh." Hiro suddenly remembered, looking back at Carlos. "That story I posted. I-I don't think I got anything back about it yet. What did you think?" A short while ago she posted the murder mystery story she wrote for class, hoping to get a bit more feedback before she moved on to the final draft, just in class she made any horrible, glaring mistakes that nobody managed to catch yet. She was always paranoid about making huge mistakes and slip-ups when she wrote.
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"Well, why don't we sit down so we can get to know each other."
"Uh, okay. Sure."
And thus Carlos simply walked into Hiro's house, making his way to the living room and taking a seat on the first chair he could find that wasn't aligned at such an angle that all three of them weren't facing him at once. Sure, every subtle twitch or shudder was being evaulated by his date-to-be's family, but this wasn't supposed to be an interrogation. Not overtly anyway...
The feeling was also mutual though. Carlos paid good attention to his surroundings as they went in. The house smelled rather nice and the furniture and other decorations were tidy, but not too suspiciously neat as the house of someone who had a "candy van." There were a few more requisite ethnic decorations for their family as well as-
oh jesus they have a katana.
Carlos could now safely say he knew enough about Japanese culture (read, he got it mostly from weeaboos) that there was more than just a date at stake now that he had been sucked into their household. This had turned from just asking a fellow nerd-girl out for a date to straight up DEFCON-1 imminent risk of seppuku, and for once Carlos didn't want to feel happy for being responsible for it.
"O-oh. That story I posted. I-I don't think I got anything back about it yet. What did you think?"
Oh right, that story. The one with the thing and the other thing that happened and goddammit, he couldn't get himself to recall how that went down.
"Yeah...um...I guess since it's a murder mystery, you shouldn't-" There was also the notion of revealing enough details to make them think she was some creepy serial killer as well. "...reveal too much about the suspect at the beginning. Maybe unless there's a twist."
He realized those words came out of his mouth smoother than expected, which was hopefully a good sign even by Carlos' drastically low standard of things turning out "good." Of course, when that standard was defined by him not suffering grievous bodily injury, there was nowhere to go but up or into a box.
"Uh, okay. Sure."
And thus Carlos simply walked into Hiro's house, making his way to the living room and taking a seat on the first chair he could find that wasn't aligned at such an angle that all three of them weren't facing him at once. Sure, every subtle twitch or shudder was being evaulated by his date-to-be's family, but this wasn't supposed to be an interrogation. Not overtly anyway...
The feeling was also mutual though. Carlos paid good attention to his surroundings as they went in. The house smelled rather nice and the furniture and other decorations were tidy, but not too suspiciously neat as the house of someone who had a "candy van." There were a few more requisite ethnic decorations for their family as well as-
oh jesus they have a katana.
Carlos could now safely say he knew enough about Japanese culture (read, he got it mostly from weeaboos) that there was more than just a date at stake now that he had been sucked into their household. This had turned from just asking a fellow nerd-girl out for a date to straight up DEFCON-1 imminent risk of seppuku, and for once Carlos didn't want to feel happy for being responsible for it.
"O-oh. That story I posted. I-I don't think I got anything back about it yet. What did you think?"
Oh right, that story. The one with the thing and the other thing that happened and goddammit, he couldn't get himself to recall how that went down.
"Yeah...um...I guess since it's a murder mystery, you shouldn't-" There was also the notion of revealing enough details to make them think she was some creepy serial killer as well. "...reveal too much about the suspect at the beginning. Maybe unless there's a twist."
He realized those words came out of his mouth smoother than expected, which was hopefully a good sign even by Carlos' drastically low standard of things turning out "good." Of course, when that standard was defined by him not suffering grievous bodily injury, there was nowhere to go but up or into a box.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
Indeed there was a katana hanging off of one of the walls. A couple months ago, a trek into the attic revealed some stuff belonging to Hiro's great-grandfather, an old katana in surprisingly good condition. After some discussion of the possibility of sending it in to one of those antique places to see if they could get some money off of it, Hiro's mom decided they should hold onto it as a family heirloom instead, and her dad spent a day in the garage to built a rather cheap-looking rack to hold it. The weapon was currently peace-bonded, though, probably to prevent it from falling out of its sheath in storage.
But back to the conversation at hand, Hiro listened intently as Carlos gave her advice. "Yeah, I guess you're right..."
"I guess I better get this out of the way first." Hiro's dad finally spoke up as he sat down. "You're not a serial killer or a rapist or anything, are you?"
Hiro and her mom facepalmed in unison.
"Hiroshi..." Hiro's mom said, clearly displeased.
"Oh, right. I guess if he was, he wouldn't be so stupid as to just out and say it." Hiro's dad got a 'cut it out' swat on the shoulder from Shiori for that.
"Sorry if he seems kind of...hostile." She turned and said to Carlos. "It's just...well, Hiro's never really been the healthy sort, so we worry. I'm sure you understand."
Hiro said nothing, her face buried in her hands to hide the shade of red her face turned to as her parents proceeded to do their parental duty and embarrass her in front of her date. God, this was so awkward...
But back to the conversation at hand, Hiro listened intently as Carlos gave her advice. "Yeah, I guess you're right..."
"I guess I better get this out of the way first." Hiro's dad finally spoke up as he sat down. "You're not a serial killer or a rapist or anything, are you?"
Hiro and her mom facepalmed in unison.
"Hiroshi..." Hiro's mom said, clearly displeased.
"Oh, right. I guess if he was, he wouldn't be so stupid as to just out and say it." Hiro's dad got a 'cut it out' swat on the shoulder from Shiori for that.
"Sorry if he seems kind of...hostile." She turned and said to Carlos. "It's just...well, Hiro's never really been the healthy sort, so we worry. I'm sure you understand."
Hiro said nothing, her face buried in her hands to hide the shade of red her face turned to as her parents proceeded to do their parental duty and embarrass her in front of her date. God, this was so awkward...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
If there was anybody involved in this conversation that was more embarrassed than anybody else for that question, it had to be Carlos. And it wasn't for the question as much as the answers that his mind reflexively churned out for immediate use. His jaw even opened as if his mind decided to place his body on auto-pilot for something he'd done to so many students and teachers in the past.
"Why yes, and I've even got a special dumpster prepared for her in Chinatown when I'm through with her."
"No, I mean, yes, I..." were the words that came out instead. It was bad enough that he knew that they were judging him inadequate for their daughter before he could finish introducing himself. Now he had completely missed whatever questions they asked afterward and was probably answering them like he was really spewing what his mind was telling him to.
"Of course, Miss Fukuyama. I've heard the flesh of young Japanese girls is quite tasty when prepared right."
"I'm sorry, I just..." It had dawned on Carlos only partly at times, but the reason he had been able to keep dishing out verbal acid so often for so long was because the consequences were more often instantaneous than protracted. That meant he could get right back up after being knocked down, literally and metaphorically.
And not only students and faculty probably had a higher tolerance for that sort of thing than parents, but high school gossip generally never left the school and hangout spots. One wrong word to the parents, and he could easily be looking to end up on the registered sex offender list before whichever date in the near future his dismally low expectations of life had designated.
"Yes, and I am currently on the run from the law in five states. My getaway-slash-workshop van is parked around the block."
"Can I...uh...use the bathroom please?" he finally asked, working up a coherent sentence. He could feel himself squirming in place, tugging at his tie as if suffocating. He might as well have asked to just leave.
"Why yes, and I've even got a special dumpster prepared for her in Chinatown when I'm through with her."
"No, I mean, yes, I..." were the words that came out instead. It was bad enough that he knew that they were judging him inadequate for their daughter before he could finish introducing himself. Now he had completely missed whatever questions they asked afterward and was probably answering them like he was really spewing what his mind was telling him to.
"Of course, Miss Fukuyama. I've heard the flesh of young Japanese girls is quite tasty when prepared right."
"I'm sorry, I just..." It had dawned on Carlos only partly at times, but the reason he had been able to keep dishing out verbal acid so often for so long was because the consequences were more often instantaneous than protracted. That meant he could get right back up after being knocked down, literally and metaphorically.
And not only students and faculty probably had a higher tolerance for that sort of thing than parents, but high school gossip generally never left the school and hangout spots. One wrong word to the parents, and he could easily be looking to end up on the registered sex offender list before whichever date in the near future his dismally low expectations of life had designated.
"Yes, and I am currently on the run from the law in five states. My getaway-slash-workshop van is parked around the block."
"Can I...uh...use the bathroom please?" he finally asked, working up a coherent sentence. He could feel himself squirming in place, tugging at his tie as if suffocating. He might as well have asked to just leave.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
"Sure. It's down the hall and to the right." Hiro's mom said, while Hiro waited for Carlos to leave the room before she spoke up again.
"Mom, Dad, could you please stop?" Hiro said insistently, though lowering her voice (which wasn't that much lower than it usually was) so that Carlos couldn't hear. "You're making him uncomfortable. You're making ME uncomfortable."
"I'm sorry, Hiro." Shiori answered. "But we've all only just met him. We have to make sure he's on the up and up. I'm always hearing all these horror stories on the news about girls meeting criminals and scumbags on the internet, thinking they're perfectly fine."
"We go to the same school." Hiro said. "It's not like he's a complete stranger or anything." ...well, actually he WAS a complete stranger, but still.
"I don't like him. Seems really squirrelly." Hiroshi said, leaning back in his seat as Hiro glared at him until he let out a sigh. "Then again, he could be Gandhi and I probably still wouldn't like him."
Hiro let out a sigh herself. This kind of endless worrying never really ended. She supposed some of it was justified, but it still made her feel like she was just some weak little thing that required endless fretting over, lest she fall over and break or something. She always hated it when she felt like that. Her circumstances were bad enough without people helping to perpetuate it, no matter how good their intentions are.
"I'll be fine, okay? I'm smart enough to watch out for myself. It's not like we'll be getting to second base or anything." Ugh. That was a bad thing to say, even as a joke. Immediately the mental image popped into her head and she buried her face in her hands trying to think about something else, while Hiroshi visibly twitched as the same mental image came to him.
"Uh...well, it looks like it's almost time to go." Shiori spoke up, trying to defuse the situation. "Hiroshi, you go start the car, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Mom, Dad, could you please stop?" Hiro said insistently, though lowering her voice (which wasn't that much lower than it usually was) so that Carlos couldn't hear. "You're making him uncomfortable. You're making ME uncomfortable."
"I'm sorry, Hiro." Shiori answered. "But we've all only just met him. We have to make sure he's on the up and up. I'm always hearing all these horror stories on the news about girls meeting criminals and scumbags on the internet, thinking they're perfectly fine."
"We go to the same school." Hiro said. "It's not like he's a complete stranger or anything." ...well, actually he WAS a complete stranger, but still.
"I don't like him. Seems really squirrelly." Hiroshi said, leaning back in his seat as Hiro glared at him until he let out a sigh. "Then again, he could be Gandhi and I probably still wouldn't like him."
Hiro let out a sigh herself. This kind of endless worrying never really ended. She supposed some of it was justified, but it still made her feel like she was just some weak little thing that required endless fretting over, lest she fall over and break or something. She always hated it when she felt like that. Her circumstances were bad enough without people helping to perpetuate it, no matter how good their intentions are.
"I'll be fine, okay? I'm smart enough to watch out for myself. It's not like we'll be getting to second base or anything." Ugh. That was a bad thing to say, even as a joke. Immediately the mental image popped into her head and she buried her face in her hands trying to think about something else, while Hiroshi visibly twitched as the same mental image came to him.
"Uh...well, it looks like it's almost time to go." Shiori spoke up, trying to defuse the situation. "Hiroshi, you go start the car, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
Squirrely might have accurately described the way Carlos Lazaro scampered off to the bathroom after narrowly avoiding being called out as a serial killer and/or rapist - and before he deliberately did identify himself as a serial killer and/or rapist. Goddamn if paranoia didn't have a way of neutralizing itself through justification. It was the kind of paranoia that could make a man shit his pants.
Fortunately, that was also another dodged bullet as Carlos already had his pants down over the bowl as that event came to pass. That he was imagining all the things Hiro's family might be saying about him did nothing to assuage his fear, which perhaps made a different kind of passing much, much easier.
Yeah, the CDC might wanna cordon off everything within a three block radius of that when I'm done.
Several minutes and what felt like half a roll of toilet paper later, Carlos had a crooked smile plastered across his face as he returned to the living room only to see the family getting up off their seats. Maybe the radiation had already spread outward from the bathroom, but at least he could be thankful that he had already emptied out his bladder and digestive systems, so there was no further risk of unnecessary bodily leakage at least from the wrong end.
"Ah...so um...we're going already?" he stammered, touching his fingertips together.
Or is Chris Hansen supposed to come in and ask me to have a seat over there?
His tux undershirt was probably soaked all the way through like some steroid freak staring at a bodybuilder magazine, so he didn't have to worry about when he'd cause a stink.
Fortunately, that was also another dodged bullet as Carlos already had his pants down over the bowl as that event came to pass. That he was imagining all the things Hiro's family might be saying about him did nothing to assuage his fear, which perhaps made a different kind of passing much, much easier.
Yeah, the CDC might wanna cordon off everything within a three block radius of that when I'm done.
Several minutes and what felt like half a roll of toilet paper later, Carlos had a crooked smile plastered across his face as he returned to the living room only to see the family getting up off their seats. Maybe the radiation had already spread outward from the bathroom, but at least he could be thankful that he had already emptied out his bladder and digestive systems, so there was no further risk of unnecessary bodily leakage at least from the wrong end.
"Ah...so um...we're going already?" he stammered, touching his fingertips together.
Or is Chris Hansen supposed to come in and ask me to have a seat over there?
His tux undershirt was probably soaked all the way through like some steroid freak staring at a bodybuilder magazine, so he didn't have to worry about when he'd cause a stink.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
Hiro spun around when Carlos spoke up behind her, having not noticed him there until now.
"Oh, uh, y-yeah. It'll be starting soon..." She explained. A couple moments later, Hiro's parents were at the front door.
"Alright, come on. Let's get there a bit early." Hiro's mom called out. Hiro nodded, glancing over at Carlos for a moment before she headed to the door, getting ready for what would probably be the most awkward car ride of her life.
{{continued elsewhere}}
"Oh, uh, y-yeah. It'll be starting soon..." She explained. A couple moments later, Hiro's parents were at the front door.
"Alright, come on. Let's get there a bit early." Hiro's mom called out. Hiro nodded, glancing over at Carlos for a moment before she headed to the door, getting ready for what would probably be the most awkward car ride of her life.
{{continued elsewhere}}
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.