...by someone who would like an assault rifle.

4 — The Slackers Get Their Just Desserts

In one overly-dramatic swoop, the smoke cleared to reveal a tall young woman in full military dress blues. Silver medals hung from her blazer; high black boots graced her legs almost to the knees. At her hip rested the golden handle of a rapier, and on her face rested a frown.

"Dude..." She was so incredibly cool.

Lucius sighed, gesturing towards the redhead who took long, confident strides down the street. "Elie, that is Aralyn. The goddess of minor scuffles, and what your president would call 'military actions'."

Elie arched both eyebrows. "What about the god of war?"

"She's his elder sister. She's always existed, just worked behind the scenes. But the U.S. has been stirring up so much conflict in recent times that she threatened to nuke the Council if we didn't give her an actual position..."

"Lucius." Her stare was grim, relentless. "You're returning to the Realm of the Gods."

The words made a cold chill crawl up his spine. He wasn't ready. Not yet. "Aralyn, please. If you force me to go back, I swear on all the Realm I'll have a nervous breakdown. Please."

There was a flash of white light as she drew her weapon, and just enough time for Elie to yelp, "Not cool!" and throw her arms above her head before she struck.

The blow never came. Instead, it was Lucius's voice that penetrated the darkness behind her eyelids.

I have no offensive powers of my own. But I can empower you. I'll grant you the strength to surpass all human limitation.

And she did, reaching out to grasp Aralyn's blade in a hand that glowed with his insignia. Aralyn's eyes widened as Elie wrested her weapon away, shouting the only two words that came to mind. The end of the lyrical line that was blaring into her ears. Plastic stars, in my private galaxy...

"Synthpop Stars!"

The magical assault that followed was very pastel-colored, and shiny, and way too sugary-sweet to be used more than once every few hundred years. But it had the desired effect; knocking the Goddess of Minor Conflict right off her feet, and sending her body skidding a few feet down the road. Elie blinked.

"Whoah, sweet!"

"I'm gonna get in such trouble for marking you..."

Elie grinned at him. "But you thought it was cool too! Come on, come on, admit it! It was cool!"

He had to admit it. A single human girl taking down a goddess? "Yeah...it was."

"Now can we go get ice cream?"

"Wait a second," said a low voice choked with grit. Elie and Lucius turned back to see Aralyn sitting cross-legged upon the ground, resting her chin in the palm of one dirty glove.

"Girly. Did you just say 'ice cream'?"


"That'll be $16.37 total," said the teenaged counter jockey. He was a little weirded out by the military chick, the goth dude, and the kid who looked like she'd just tumbled out of a closet full of oversized clothes and techno. But hey, they were customers. Besides, he'd gone dressed up as a zombie to the mall last year in May...just for kicks.

"Aww, crap..." With some apprehension, Elie reached into the depths of her pockets.

Now there is something that must be understood about Elie's pockets. They are rather large. At one point, Elie's elder brother swore that they were connected somehow to Hammerspace. You know, that magical land where all anime characters get their magical wands, hammers, katanas and what-have-you from.

So, naturally, she pulled from them a grand list of items. Including but not limited to: three large paper clips, two old detentions, one Malibu Barbie, seven packs of Winterfresh gum, nine different music players in all different colors and sizes (but none of them were Ipods, because Ipods suck horribly), nine half-eaten Life Savers, and approximately 1.1 pounds (Or, for our international friends, a half-kilogram) of pocket lint. One clump of which, when removed, immediately sprouted about ten legs and scurried away. But this is beside the point.

Elie posessed a grand total of seven dollars and thirty-two cents in U.S. legal tender. Along with nineteen pesos, two euros, and one old game token from Chuck E. Cheese.

"Um, no good?" she said, shrugging.

Aralyn's eyebrows tightened. "Oh, really?" She extended her arm, and closed her hand around the grip of an assault rifle that hadn't been there only thirty seconds prior—the FN SCAR Heavy, if you want to be specific. (And far away, some poor U.S. SOCOM officer—whose weapon she'd just 'borrowed'—was very, very confused.) Taking hold of the other grip with her left hand, she leveled it at the poor unsuspecting cashier.

"Holy sh—"

"Look," she spat, cutting him off. "I have had a very bad day, and I don't necessarily feel like paying for a few scoops of something that you mortals wouldn't even have without us. So you either give me my ice cream, or I put a 7.62 millimeter round through your cranium. You got me?" She jabbed him in the forehead, and he nodded vigorously.

Thirty seconds later found Lucius with vanilla ice cream in a cup topped with sprinkles, Elie with a strawberry sundae (both syrup and ice cream) and Aralyn with a three-scoop cone of super-duper-extra-fudgy chocolate. (Because who needs chocolate more than a bad-tempered goddess of conflict with PMS?)

Thirty-one seconds later found our troublesome trio sitting on the curb. They'd been kicked out of the mall, permanently.

"Nnn..." Elie scratched her head. "Looks like we'll have to find another favorite ice cream place tomorrow."

"Or I could just shoot my way in," Aralyn remarked, turning her waffle cone in all directions to no avail. "Damnation, it dripped!" In frustration she raised her rifle and fired a few rounds into the air. When a terrified bystander let out a shriek, she pointed it at him, snarling. "You want a piece of me, punk?" He turned and fled.

Lucius tsked and pushed her weapon to the concrete. "That will be enough discharging of arms for today, soldier."

She narrowed her eyes at him, dangerously. "Oh, real—"

Elie flailed in her direction, panicking. "Aralyn, your ice cream's dripping again!"



From high above in the Realm of Gods, Cy, Days, and Izuko watched this latest development with mild interest and buttered popcorn. (Lalakira was still lying on the ground and lamenting the fate of the world.)

"You know what?" Izuko licked his lips. "Ice cream sounds pretty good about now."

Cy laughed wickedly. "Ice cream with vodka sounds better. Days?"

"Righty-o," The best bartender this side of the Realm hopped to his feet and saluted, bringing his heels together. "One Chocolate Black Russian, comin' up." He tore off like a shot, followed by Izuko's shout.

"Make me a strawberry daiquiri while you're back there, please!"

"We are so screwed..." Lalakira wailed.


And thus ends our little fable; mainly because the author is far too lazy to write anymore. But now you know there's at least a reason. It's probably the same reason you're lazy, too. In fact, it's probably why laziness has been spreading worldwide with no signs of slowing or stopping.

I'd say something foreboding and pretentious like "Only the gods can save us now", but they're too busy getting smashed to do anything. So I think I'll just go get some root beer, some chocolate, and continue slacking off until the apocalypse.

See you again!


notes: Sorry for the delay But as my profile says, this is an adaptation of what I hope will be an award-winning kamishibai, and I had to stay off FP (and everything else) so I could finish said kamishibai in time for the contest. We're talking 106 images in under three days.

Needless to say, that was nuts. But I had fun, and it's complete.

I have a small collage up of some scenes from that; So if you wanna see some of the Unmotivated cast — http://www.sheezyart.com/view/319361
I might draw full pictures of them someday...but right now, I haven't got the time.

thank you! to Dramatic Idiocy, MicrophoneKirby, punkispurple, and Silverleaf-Rand for reviewing! You have no idea how happy it makes me when people enjoy my work ^_^
DI & Kirby: Holy crap, you two faved me! :D! Thankyouthankyou. *bows*
Rand: Sorry dude, I asked them about trying to invade again—their commander-in-chief said something about keyboard redesign and re-training...I dunno, I'm not entirely fluent. XD But no, as you can see, the aliens couldn't make it. Maybe next time... *wicked grin*

— rah, ready to discharge her firearm. no, i swear i'm not aiming at the naruto fanboys. promise.