Prologue

Every once in a while, I wonder what life would be like if I was a normal person.

I don't mean like the kind you're probably thinking about. Well, that'd depend. What kind of person are you? Are you the kind that obsesses over sports and then wonders why no one else does the same?

Well, just to tell you, I hate sports. I don't hate playing them, but I hate sports. What's the difference you ask? Well, when you say sports, it's a 100% sure what you're thinking:

1. School games.

2. College games.

3. National games.

4. International games.

5. For fun games.

6. Get hit in the nuts games.

I personally don't think that's fun. But hey, it's your preference right?

Then there's the type that just love to gossip. Like this:

#1: Yo, what's up.

#2: DUDE. OH MY GOD. DID YOU SEE THAT GUY YESTERDAY?

#1: Err...what guy?

#2: Dude (can hardly stand for laughing) oh my god, he was getting so OWNED yesterday! You know Jimmy right?

#1: Uhh...not re–

#2: Man, it was SO FUNNY. Jimmy was just walking in the halls and then some guy randomly comes over and gives him a wedgie!

#1: Like I said, I don't really kno–

#2: AND THEN, JIMMY'S LIKE WHAT THE HELL, WHY'D YOU GIVE ME A WEDGIE? AND THE OTHER GUY GOES, DUDE, YOU GOT WEDGIED! MAN IT WAS SOOOOOO FUNNY.

#1: Look, I already said I don't know Ji–

#2: DON'T YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY? MAN IT WAS SO FUNNY. WHY WEREN'T YOU THERE? I WAS LOOKING FOR YOU.

#1: SHUT THE FUCK UP. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO THE HELL YOU ARE. AND I DON'T KNOW WHO THE HELL JIMMY IS OR WHO THE OTHER GUY IS, OR WHY THE HELL JIMMY GOT A FUCKING WEDGIE.

Silence.

#2: Dude. Chill.

Simmer and serve when well done.

There's a ton of other stuff that I don't count as normal. But you get the gist of it right? Probably some of you are asking me, what's so wrong with that? Well, just to tell you this, I think you guys are pretty crazy. Not just crazy like, you love to do homework. I mean crazy like, go to the counselor to get transferred to the psychiatrist so that you can get stuck in a psycho ward for 20 years of rehabilitation.

Then, come back after your 20 years, go back to your school, go back to your counselor, then just get sent straight back for another 20 years for seeing your counselor again after 20 years.

Bottom line: You people are the kind that shouldn't be in my life at all. No, you should be stuck in some mildly comfortable room for half your life so that when I DO finally meet you, I can laugh and say that you spent half your life sitting on your ass while doctors came in and did their stuff in the confines of thick walls and people who can't be taken seriously.

What I mean by a normal person is a guy (note I said guy. I don't think girls can ever be normal. Ever. Why? Because, I don't believe anyone who can live with the knowledge that after a decade or so, they'll have a huge head pulled out of their privates, is sane. It gets even worse when they start to think it'll be the happiest moment of their lives.) who's relaxed and doesn't really take anything seriously. That doesn't mean he can't be serious. It just means he doesn't get worked up over anything too much and takes life to the fullest. A guy who's average at everything, but can utilize that averageness to his advantage.

Since, average means you get a bit of everything.

Oh, have you figured it out now? Yeah, since I said I wonder what it'd be like to be a guy like that, you must think that I'm not like that person.

You'd be extraordinarily CORRECT.

And no, I'm not a girl. Didn't my blatant one-sided statement make that clear? Rather, I'm just not a guy who doesn't take things seriously.

I take things very seriously.

And no, I hate sports. Just because I said I'm not a normal person doesn't mean I'm everything I said is abnormal. Then again, if you were in my shoes, you might think that I am normal. At the very least, I'd like to see you in my situation without pulling a gun to your head and making a nice little note, perhaps typed in Times New Romans Font 12 pt double-spaced (since there's probably no way you'll be able to do single-space. And 10pt font? Forget it, it's way above you).

So what's my situation?

Here, I'll show you.

I just woke up to the usual morning fare. Perhaps you're thinking blooming sunlight and rascal rays chasing each other around in a warm game of tag while I rub my eyes accordingly and yawn Aaahhhhn~~~~~.

That'd be cute. Unfortunately, it's not what you get.

What you're getting is a room just barely in the range of warm tones (mostly earthy) because of the fact that all the windows have been boarded shut, as a way to ward off the insects that'll come in (as there's no screen). Look at the rust of those nails! When were they put in? I'd hazard a guess at before the Tokugawa period.

Moving on, we see a nice quaint bed with fluffy pillows and crisp white sheets amongst a room filled with unsightly mold and an ever increasing layer of dust that's so thick, I could probably serve it as a key lime pie.

By the way, I was joking about the bed. It's actually a cot that's not even the slightest bit the color of a lime. Actually, it looks more like the flat green color shirt that your parents always buy, but that never looks exactly the right shade of green to actually be called green, but never the actual shade of anything else to be even called an actual color.

It's fraying a bit at the edges, but it holds pretty strong. Not sure what it's made of, but it's gotta be strong. Why you ask? You're jumping ahead.

So anyways, instead of yawning, I have to pry my eyes open, since they've been welded shut with dirty eye crust. I hate that stuff, since it always seems like I'm plucking my eyelashes everything I open my eyes.

After I've gained sufficient sight, I start on my way out of the room and towards the bathroom. Sadly, the door is kind of jammed in, so I have to pull really hard. Then, as if mocking me, it opens up really fast, so that it jams my toe and makes me hop and knock my head against the coat hanger attached to the door.

So now I have aching eyes, a throbbing toe, and a split open skull. Plus a crick in the neck from sleeping in the wrong position.

And the moment I open the door, I get a nice loud call drilled into my ears.

"Look, Daisuke's awake!"

Shit. I wasn't expecting this. Please take a moment to take cover. Preferably under a fiery kotatsu with a gameboard underneath so you can have something to do.

"Oy, Daisuke, why are you waking up so late?"

This is my impertinent...roommate for a lack of a better term. His name's Taro. You'd think since his name is Taro, he'd be a first son. Ha! He WISHED. As if. He's more like the sixth son of a seventh son that cries when he sees his little brother get superpowers and bash the crap out of supervillains and then gloat about it later to the world in true typical superhero fashion.

He's unnaturally unintelligent. Very coarse. You can see him like a pig that likes to wallow around in its food trough and drowns itself because it was stupid enough to not roll over.

EXACTLY! You don't see stupid pigs like that! That's why he's one of a kind!

"Daisuke. Where's our food?" asks Taro, scratching at his teeth. Probably has last night's meal still in there. Did I mention he's horribly unhygenic? I think he uses the toilet water to gargle.

"Taro. Why are you asking me that?"

"Well, if I don't ask you, how do I get food?" he says in a mocking tone. Sarcasm? YOU? HA!

"It's called raiding the fridge. By the way, that's an animal instinct passed down from God himself. How'd you miss out?" THAT, MY FRIEND, IS HIGH-CLASS BANTER.

"Che. Don't be so stingy Daisuke," says Taro, turning away from me. By the way, if you're wondering about where his exact position is right now, he's sitting in the living room about two doors down the hall from my room. His feet are under the wooden table I bought for 8000 yen last year; probably rotting the wood with his tinea pedis. What a waste of a valuable tree.

"So, are you getting the food Daisuke?" asks Taro, watching the television stationed about four feet away from the table. He seems to have it on just to be hearing something while he picks at his teeth with a toothpick..

"Very soon Taro. When are you getting food?" I reply with gritted teeth.

"Huh?" he asks without turning around. ...PRICK! UNFORGIVEABLE PRICK!

"I'm making enough for myself. What'll you be having?"

"Whatever you're having."

"So, you can make a two egg bacon omelette with onions?"
"Probably not," says Taro, finishing with his toothpick. "Can you?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, what's the problem then?" asks Taro, looking at me with his chin held up by the palm of his hand.

Stop.

Ok, did you hear that? You heard that right? You heard him completely ignore my telling him to become self-supportive. You heard him completely ignore my indirect suggestion of making cereal for himself. And, don't you DARE try and tell me that you didn't hear him just say that he's expecting me to make him a two-egg bacon omelette with onions.

So, you completely understand why I'm going to respond like this.

"WHAT'S THE PROBLEM THEN!?!?!!? THE PROBLEM IS THAT I'M GOING TO EAT A FREAKING OMELETTE AND YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY. SO GO MAKE YOURSELF SOME DAMN CEREAL, IF YOU'VE GOT THE BRAINS TO PUT MILK AND A BOWL TOGETHER!"

"Aww...Daisuke, I don't want cereal."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

"I don't want cereal."

Wait...wait for it...wait. Ok, we're good.

"GET OUUUUT! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!!! GET OUT RIGHT NOW! GO TO SOME BEGGAR ON THE STREET AND ASK HIM FOR A DOLLAR SO YOU CAN BUY YOURSELF A FREAKING CHEESE BAR FROM THE CONVENIENCE STORE. THEN YOU CAN COME BACK HERE AND BEG ME TO LET YOU BACK IN AND SAY THAT YOU WERE FORCED TO BEG FROM A BEGGAR FOR A MEAL. GET OUT! GET OUT RIGHT NOW!"

"Why would I do that when you can make me an omelette?" asks Taro, rolling around on the floor now. "Man, you can be so stupid sometimes Daisuke."

"WHO'S STU–"

"Isn't that right Yuuji? He's being stupid."

"Well, I'd have to say it was a little thoughtless of you, Daisuke-san."

GAANNNNN.

No..Yuuji...why! Why have you gone against me at a time like this?!

Shut up! Just shut up! Can't you see I'm mourning right now? I can't tell you who Yuuji is! SHUT UP I SAID! Alright fine! Just stop asking me!

Opposite of Taro sat Yuuji, my other "roommate". He's a lot more dignified than Taro, in my opinion. You can't really see his eyes because his bangs are always in the way. But they're not so long that it'd impair his vision. No, it could also be because his eyes are always scrunched up because he tends to smile a lot.

Yuuji's the wild card of us three.

He's always in that polite and optimistic mood. That's a good point of his. The bad point is that Yuuji tends to choose sides and stick with them whenever a conflict shows up. He's been siding with Taro a lot lately, but that's probably just a lull in his judgement, what with puberty and hormones racing through his head. In actuality, he used to agree with me a lot more when he wasn't addled so much.

"IT'S NOT THOUGHTLESS AT ALL YUUJI. THIS IDIOT NEEDS TO LEARN THAT I'M NOT HIS PERSONAL CHEF."

"Oy, Daisuke. Hungry here."

"SHUT UP YOU PORCUPINE."

"Porcupine...?"

"YES. You're a porcupine! You come into my house looking for salt and when I give you salt, you stab my hand with your dirty little quills and then run away laughing, only to come back the next day to ask for more salt, which I also give you, only to be stabbed YET AGAIN IN THE SAME HAND THAT GAVE YOU THE SALT IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

"Porcupines...like salt?"

My mouth's opening up and down like Pacman.

"Now now. Taro, Daisuke, calm down," says Yuuji, waving at me to sit down. "How about we compromise? We'll help you set up breakfast, Daisuke."

Ahh! Yuuji, I knew you weren't on Taro's side!

"What? Yuuji, you know I can't cook," says Taro.

I hate to agree with him, but it's true.

"Now that I think about it, I can't either," says Yuuji, chuckling. "We can just get the bowls and pans for Daisuke."

"Oh Yuuji! I knew you were the good one!" I say, trying to hold back my manly tears.

"Daisuke, I want a four-egg omelette."

"GO TO HELL YOU–"

"HEY! Daisuke, where the FUCK is my food?"

Oh look. The princess has arrived.

Having entered through the door behind Yuuji is the bitch of the hour. Her name is Kaede, a brown-haired girl with eyebrows that could almost be a unibrow and a face that scars the minds of little kids.

"Ah, Kaede. And a good morning to you," says Taro nonchalantly.

"Shut up Taro." Well, at least she does somethings right.

"Good morning, Kaede-san."

"Hi, Yuuji." She's really getting good at this.

Kaede turns her head to me again. "Daisuke. I don't get up early on Saturday to see you standing there without a bowl of rice in your hand!"

"Look, woman. I'm pretty sure you can pick up your own damn rice!" Who the heck does she think she is?

"Daisuke, I've given you two hours of my beauty sleep so that you can be at the table, having a heavy rice cooker next to you with a big smile on that ugly shithole you call a face. I get up especially to see YOU bending on one knee with your hand held out with MY bowl and asking me okawari? five minutes later."

"Ok, one. Like I've said to Taro, I'M NOT YOUR PERSONAL CHEF. And two, five minutes? You're really getting fat aren't you. And thr–"

SMACK!

What just happened? Well, Kaede just punched me in the nose hard enough to nearly break it in half. Fortunately, it just feels like she broke it 1/8th of the way. Oh, and her face is flushed red and now she's tackling me down to the ground and stomping on me with her foot.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING FAT? I'M NOT FAT. YOU'RE FATTER THAN ME, HIPPO! SO WHY DON'T YOU GET OFF YOUR FAT ASS AND START MAKING MY BREAKFAST!"

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. By the way, did she just call me a hippo?

I'm pretty much smoking now from the speed at which she was thrashing me with just a few seconds ago. I'm suspecting it's from friction, but it could also be my body saying my nerves just blew up to pieces from being overworked.

As I start to get off the floor while at the same time, trying to piece back my shattered pride from having been demolished by a girl nearly half my height, the door opens again, revealing the second female in MY house.

"GOOD MORNING!" yells Shiori, throwing her arms up ecstatically. "What's this? You guys are really being loud today!"

"Shiori. Can you believe Daisuke didn't make us breakfast yet?"

"EHHHH?!!!??! NO WAY! Daisuke cooks so well though!" shouts the black-haired girl, bouncing all over the place. Taro is now clicking away at the remote control while watching Shiori race around at the speed of light.

If I had to say I was attracted to any of the girls here, it'd be to Shiori. She's such an energetic person that it just does my heart good seeing her around. That doesn't mean I like like her. No, she'd just be my first choice if I was stuck between her, Kaede, and Yukiko.

Speaking of which, the latter just followed in behind Shiori.

"Good morning," says Yuki shyly, partially hidden by the door still. Although her real name is Yukiko, everyone here calls her Yuki, considering that she's got to be the most innocent out of all of us. I mean I'm saying that she's the kind of girl that all cats are attracted to. The kind that gets special attention from teachers and men in general. Also the kind that should NEVER be in contact with a brusque devil like Kaede.

"Good morning, Yuki," says Taro, as flatly as always. You'd think he'd be a little more courteous to a girl like her.

"Good morning, Yuki-chan," says Yuuji, smiling at her. Now there's a guy who knows how to treat someone properly.

"Yuki, Shiori. Over here, right now!" commands Kaede. Shiori instantly brakes to a stop, her hand up in a salute over her forehead. Yuki, meanwhile, timidly shifts over Yuuji and next to Shiori. "Listen up! Baka Daisuke is REFUSING to let us eat."

"I'm NOT refusing! I'm just saying that I'm a human being with my own free will. And if I decide not to cook for you guys, that means you guys should go get the shitty cereal we have in the cupboard, eat it with the shitty milk we have curdling away in the fridge, and then kiss up to my ass until I'm satisfied."

"NO ONE ASKED YOU!" roars Kaede, fire blasting out of her eyes and nose. Taro flinches as the heat of her anger reaches him.

"What the heck..." he mutters while worming his way closer to the TV. COWARD! YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING COWARD!!!

"You heard him women. He expects us to act the part of dutiful housewives."

"You mean like those people that are overworked all the time and sweating and wearing those big bandannas on their heads like hairnets and having big flabby suits to cover up their slowly degenerating bodies?" asked Shiori in one breath. Her eyes were gleaming brightly.

"What?" asks Kaede, momentarily stumped in her tirade. "What..–NO! God Shiori, stop acting like Daisuke."

"Ehhh?! I don't act like him!" says Shiori tearfully, looking my way. Unfortunately, she does act like me, which is another reason for her being my favorite. Of course, she could use a bit of a polish in those overarching statements. They are in no way anything that I would have done.

"Uhm...uhm..." mumbles Yuki, unsure of what to do at this point. She shuffles back towards Yuuji, as she usually does in her times of indecision. See, since Yuuji is often seen (at least by me) as the cornerstone of the household and part of the more rational amongst us all, Yuki does the obvious thing and goes find shelter behind him. Of course, she probably would've come to me instead (after all, I am the MOST rational here) if I hadn't been under attack by this devil woman.

What? Taro? Hell no. How is he in anyway rational?

"Alright, Daisuke. I'm giving you one chance to bow down and beg for forgiveness then go make breakfast," says Kaede in a lofty manner, waving her hand at me and all that other stuff.

"Get OUT OF HERE! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? THERE'S NO ONE THAT I'D FALL ON MY KNEES SO UNCONDITIONALLY FOR EXCEPT MYSELF! AND ARE YOU MYSELF? NO, YOU'RE JUST A WOMAN WHO PROBABLY GOT A HUGE BURST OF ESTROGEN MESSING WITH HER HORMONES AND THUS, AS A RESULT, MUTATING HER BRAIN WITH SPASMODIC ALTERATIONS. AND YOU KNOW WHERE YOU GOT THAT ESTROGEN FROM? YOU PROBABLY GOT IT FROM EATING ALL THAT FAT THAT'S BEING DISPERSED THROUGHOUT YOUR BOD–"

"SHIORI GET HIM!"

In the blink of an eye, Shiori's arms have got me in a swinging full nelson. I'm yelling in fear and a little bit of pain,since Shiori's natural overenthusiasm has my joints stretching to their limits. I think she's tearing my armpits too.

"What are you doing!?"

"What do you think? Adminstering your punishment," says Kaede in a demonic tone, whacking her fist against her palm. "Yuki, go warm him up."

"Ehhh!?" says Yuki, her eyes widening in utter shock. WHAT DO YOU MEAN WARMING UP?

"Go do it Yuki! Don't you want to eat?"

"But but..but...punching Daisuke-san..." says Yuki, her eyes welling with tears. WHAT?! PUNCHING ME?! WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?!

"YUKI!"

"I...I...!!!!! Ey!" says Yuki, closing her eyes and jabbing me in the stomach. Fortunately, Yuki's punch turned out to be really really soft. Almost like a massage for my abdomen. I guess it was to be expected.

"Oh, Yuki, you're hopeless. Move over."

Oh wait. NO! NO DON–"

WHAM!

That got the air out of me.

As I'm hanging off Shiori's arms, gasping for breath, Kaede gets eye-level with me and smirks maliciously.

"So, what's that about me being fat?"

"I, pant pant, never said you're fat. I said you're GETTING fa–"

WHAM x2!

"AGHH! STOP IT!"

"WHO'S GETTING FAT?"

"GGHHH...GGHH...EHHMMM....TARO!"

"Hey! I'm not fat. I'm just lazy."

"That's true Daisuke-san. Taro's metabolism is fairly amazing," says Yuuji, completely oblivious to my tormentuous situation.

God. Go cut your bangs, PLEASE!

"Now, are you going to make me breakfast or not?"

"N–n NEVER!"

WHAM X10

KO!

"Ugghh...ok ok! I'll do it! Sheesh, just let me go!" I moan, my stomach in utter agony. It feels like a cow just bodyslammed my body and its udders went stabbing into my solarplex.

"What are you making?" asks Kaede, clearly about to admonish me if the meal isn't up to her standards.

"He's making a ten-egg gourmet omelette with bacon, cheese, onions, tomatoes, an–"

"SHUT UP TARO! WE DON'T EVEN HAVE CHEESE!"

"Well, I'll just go ask a beggar for a dollar and go buy a cheese bar at the convenience store," says Taro sweetly, probably delighting in getting his revenge on me. I told you he's a horrible person! Kicking me when I'm down!

"MMMM! Omelette?! Yay Daisuke!" says Shiori, releasing me abruptly. I wasn't expecting this, so don't make fun of me for stumbling on my feet and crashing into Kaede's nearly nonexistant breasts.

"Nice," she says, glancing down at me with a pulsing vein. Predictably, she splatters me all over the wall. I think I'm dying here. I'll probably have to go to a hardware store and eat some bolts or something to replace all this blood.

"C'mon guys. Let's go wash up while Daisuke gets breakfast ready," says Kaede, going out the door.

"Oh sweet. Mixed bath? Excellent," says Taro excitedly, following them.

"YOU FUCKING WISH!" shouts Kaede, elbowing him so hard into the opposite wall that dust falls from the ceiling.

Kaede looks around at me, surrounded by a puddle of my body fluids, Taro KO'd near the TV, and Yuuji smiling a little nervously now. She tosses her hair and then leaves the room. Shiori follows after poking me a bit and making little duck sounds. Yuki at least has the heart to adjust me a little so that I can sit up before running off.

"Well, it wasn't that bad today, was it Daisuke-san?" asks Yuuji, getting up from the table after the girls left. He pulls some tissues from the box on the table and holds it to my nose.

"No. It wasn't. At least I still have all of my body intact today," I say, trying to stymie the blood dribbling out of my orvices. "Plus, Taro got KO'd. That makes everything better."

Yuuji chuckles.

So now that I've got the blood stopped, I have to go work on a ten-egg omelette with bacon, onions, tomatoes, and nonexistant cheese.

Terrific, isn't it?

And you thought I was insane. What do you call those maniacs that entered my living room?

A/N: I haven't done a humor bit in a while and you can see my brand of humor (if you can call it that) is sort of wonky. Hopefully you got a few laughs (or even a little bitty smile in your head) out of it. This is sort of a spiritual successor to "The Fortunes of Several Wasted Things", but there'll be no real similarities. Anyways, I want to continue this past the prologue, but it'll be dependent on schoolwork, the pace of my other story, and whether anyone's interested.

PS: Did a bit of an edit.