|Make Up Your Mind
Author: Intheinterim PM
[MM Slash] He liked me. I hated him so I threw a tub of green slime on him. He started crying and ran away so everyone hated me. Next time I saw him I realized I wanted to get into his pants... Can't I just make up my mind?Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Humor - Words: 2,510 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 8 - Published: 01-16-08 - id: 2463549
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hey! Started another fic! Yes, my third! I know that I should be writing my other two but I get bored easy so shoot me... I promise I'll give all three stories equal attention... Maybe.
Warning: Hi... this story contains M/M slash, language, sex stuff and lots and lots of other stuff that I really don't remember right now. :) So, do me a favor. If you don't like this juicy stuff then you can read it, let your friends read it or maybe even worship it... o.0 But don't flame. That's just mean. So... yeah. Now I should get out of bold, huh?
So, here we go!
I am now the proud owner of a tub of green slime that I ordered from some kids' network on TV. Its green, smells disgusting, and guess what? It's even edible!
Now, I know that you're probably thinking that I should have spent the fifty-seven dollars and thirty-three cents plus shipping and handling that I had to pay to buy this to maybe buy something better, like some nice clothes or even to pay for taking some girl out on a date instead of basically wasting all of it on a tub of green slime.
Well, anyway, sometimes as I look back on this crazy period of my weird life and that tub of green slime that started it all and I think that maybe it was worth all that money…
But buying some nice jeans would've been better; I would've avoided loads of crap that fell on me before I finally poked my head out of the top of that big pile of crap and faced my new, eau-de-crap life. Which actually didn't smell too bad after you find out that the crap is actually a load of… flowers, or something like that.
Okay! Back to me and my tub of slime!
So… yeah… slime… not really all that good for much. Maybe if you want to make this weird stuff for school and some really weird project or something, or to impress some friends by pointing out that tub of green, gooey in your closet that's way past its expiration date, and most importantly, humiliation.
Which is what I bought it for; humiliation, I mean.
The target of my humiliation was, at the time, the most annoying thing in my freaking life. Me, honor student in the number ten school in the US… liked by him. And the thing was that he didn't really try and keep it a secret. It was actually kind of disgusting how all the girls would giggle when they saw him, nervous and fidgety, as he practically stalked me through the halls.
I don't know why the hell most girls like that. Maybe there's a little fag hag in all of them… but from the moment that it became public knowledge that he liked me, the girls started loving him… well, even more than they did before.
My would-be stalker was the guy that all the girls loved. He hung out with them, was best friends with them, went to the mall with them, watched chick flicks with them… and the thing about him was that he would like them in a totally platonic way. He was only around them because he related better to girls than he did to guys. Well, if it didn't cue you in before that the guy liked me then let me spell it out for you: he's gay. G-A-Y. Gay, as in he likes men and he's a guy.
Okay, I'm not a homophobe or anything. Go gay people! I'm all for them getting married and doing whatever the hell they want to be happy. I guess I'm liberal in that aspect… But, well, the only thing I ever asked in return was for gay people to not like me.
Apparently he didn't get the message, because he was always gawking at me and stuttering whenever I passed by and he'd turn white as a sheet when I passed him in the halls and that was, well… weird.
I'm not the type of guy that's flattered when another guy likes him. Okay, when another guy thinks you're hot yes, but that's normal. I mean, it's a little odd when a guy tells you you're hot in a non-gay way, of course, but once you get over the wave of discomfort it's kinda sorta flattering. But a guy liking you… yeah, not flattering at all… just… weird.
So having another guy liking you is one thing, but in a small school like mine, it's not exactly a secret… an open secret which has been the source of a lot of shit for me.
Besides my friends taunting me mercilessly with little stories about how he stalked me or how we'd make a very cute couple, the guy's fag hag groupies adopted me as their new idol. I'm serious; the fag hag gossip net and their new favorite work for their short stories were about a guy named Brandon, which, coincidently, happens to be my freaking name.
So, having a guy stalking you, friends taunting you, fag hag groupies making you the target of their propaganda and trying their hardest to get you and the guy that likes you together, along with a nice new reputation that involves your sexuality being questioned really ticked me off.
Why not another one of the gay guys at our school? Why not Mr. Christensen, the fifty-something year old pedophile that doubles as the guidance counselor that uses any excuse to make physical contact with you? Why not Michael Jackson?
Why me over every other freaking man in the world?
Look, let me make one thing clear; I'm straight. S-T-R-A-I-G-H-T. As in I am a guy that likes girls. I don't like checking guys out and finding out that another guy practically stalks you and likes you is not flattering or pleasing… It's one of the finer points of disgust in life. And I really wanted that disgust to go away.
So I bought my precious tub of green slime.
I really hadn't planned for it. I mean, my little sister was watching something on Nickelodeon and all of a sudden this guy gets slime dropped on his head and the idea just pops in my head... that it'd be cool to try it. But I wasn't planning on using it on him… really, I wasn't.
It just so happened that I got the slime on the day before the last day of school and that I decided to take it with me to play a prank on someone… not him.
Okay… now, you're probably asking me why the heck I just didn't tell the guy I was straight, right? The answer is… I don't know. Don't ask… but whenever I even thought of the idea I for some reason turned the idea down. Whether it was talking to him or what to say that freaked me out I really don't know… I just never got around to it.
And they slime was just much easier. And funnier. And more fun.
So on the last day of freshman year I had one of my friends who's a proud member of the fag hag community slip a message to the guy to meet me outside the school right after it was over. I also knew that my friend was a blabber-mouth and that everyone within a mile radius would know that I was going to meet with my admirer after school. And I'd planned on that.
So after school I waited outside, quivering with anticipation and nervousness and excitement. I was aware of the crowd of people that had come to watch; the guys shaking their heads at me in disgust and the girls squealing at the prospect of me finally accepting the guy.
He showed up right on time. So punctual, as always.
He was really weird back then… well, not really weird but really different from the guy I've come to know. His name was George and he was a bit taller than me, which is expected because I'm kinda short… which I hate. His olive eyes, glazed over with what appeared to be lots and lots of nerves, shot all over the place in a very nervous manner. His dark brown hair was curly and unruly, forming a small afro (if it could be called that… but not really) on the top of his head.
Moment of truth…
"U-u-umm…" he stuttered out, a film of sweat on him already, "I-I-I h-heard t-that y-y-you wanted to t-talk…?"
I nodded; he seemed to hold his breath… Everyone was silent except for some idiot that screamed 'Make out already!' George turned a shade of crimson I never thought possible at that; I just tried very hard to mask my disgust as I grabbed the tub in my book bag.
"Yeah, I did," I said nonchalantly, catching sight of my friends; the girls cheering me on, the guys looking a mix of freaked out, disgusted and maybe a tad excited for whatever would happen…
"O-o-oh…?" he asked, as he twiddled his thumbs.
"Yes… I also wanted to give you something."
The cry from the crowd almost made me deaf. The fag hags were shrieking in a fan-girl fashion and the guys seemed to be cat-calling at us, which only strengthened my resolve and made George flush an even deeper shade of crimson.
"U-u-umm… thank y-you…?" he stuttered out, looking torn between confusion and a very genuine gratefulness that made one part of me snicker about how easy it would be while another half of me questioned if this really was a good idea.
Whoa! Where did that come from!? I pushed it out of my head, filling it instead with evil, vindictive thoughts of how great it'll be to toss that putrid yet pretty tasty tub of slime on him. Oh yes… this was going to be fun.
"Sure," I said, suddenly aware of every voice in the audience as my grip on the tub of slime tightened, "Well, here's your gift…!"
You know that whole deer-in-the-headlights thing that happens all the time when people are shocked? Well, not only was George giving me that petrified look but everyone in the crowd was too.
In one fluid (or at least I'd like to think it was) motion I pulled the tub of slime out of my book bag and threw it at my victim, who's eyes were still expectant, waiting for my gift. The shock was just beginning to appear in them when the lime green slime covered his face.
And then what…?
Oh, yeah… a Martian attacked me.
Yes, I'm kidding. No, that didn't happen. What happened was a lot worse.
The instant the slime fell on George a part of me regretted it. I felt like an ass and a jerk and a bully and it pretty much sucked at the moment. Meh, hang me.
But apparently I really didn't show it because I started laughing… very hard, in a very shrill and girly manner that even surprised me. What the hell was I doing!? Cry, beg for forgiveness, wallow in guilt, do something!
George is covered in this green slime and at first he doesn't move or say anything… until I start laughing. The minute I start laughing the poor kid's olive eyes become visible when big, fat droplets of water wash the slime out of them.
He's crying… and I'm still laughing.
And then the kid slowly backs away, his movements like those of a puppy you just kicked. And I feel even worse, but guess what? I don't care. Or at least I don't show it because I'm still laughing my ass off.
And then he runs. And I keep laughing.
And for a little while my scary, girly laugh is the only sound in the whole place as the crowd regards me with a shocked expression. George rushes past them and they part wordlessly, his friends looking at me blankly and in shock before chasing after him… wherever the hell it is that he's going.
Oh, and guess what? I get my reaction.
In one big, ominous voice the fag hags voice their opinion of me. Boos and cries of hatred come from the crowd, drowning my laughter out. Okay, I kind of expected that from the fag hags… but why are all the girls doing the same thing?
Then the guys shake their heads and just regard me in stony silence before some guys start voicing their opinion of me too. I'm not going to say what it was that they said because I don't think the children reading this would appreciate it… but let me tell you that it was just as bad as the girls' opinion of me.
And suddenly I freeze…
Crap, shit, fuck. Fuckity-fuck-fuck…
Everyone hates me.
I turn to my friends and they regard me with a shocked, somewhat hateful glare. I'm in shock as they walk away, living me in the midst of murderous girls and a bunch of guys that would probably want to join in my lynching.
I'm all alone. My mom isn't coming to pick me up yet because I'd made plans to go to the mall with my friends… who just abandoned me here in this crowd of murderous people that really look like they want to murder me.
And then, oh drat… only then does my guilt kick in. Screw you, guilt… screw you slime… God I hate myself right now…
Being stared down by a crowd of people that hate you, having your friends abandon you, having made a guy cry… well, let's just say that I haven't felt more alone in like, forever…
And all I have to defend myself is my empty tub where the slime used to be…
Umm… I think I maybe should've bought a pair of jeans instead. Don't you agree?