(no subject)
Title: Mendacious
Type: Gen
Genre: Meh. Sort of amusing, sort of angsty.
Characters: Kevin, David
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, drug references, sex talk.
Word Count: 1,291
Summary: Scottish stereotype junkies go trainspotting; Kevin and David ride elevators.
Disclaimer: Mine, except a few obvious pop culture references. Don't do drugs.
Closing his eyes (the oddly spaced flashes of color were getting monotonous), Kevin leaned against the smooth elevator wall opposite David and hummed quietly. These moments were the ones that made the adult emphasis on adolescence’s et ego in Arcadiam, salad days sentimentality make a little bit of sense. He was pretty sure that they weren’t talking about getting stoned and riding elevators when they gave their insipidly inspired little tirades, but Woodstock only existed as an idea anymore and watching The Wall was only fun without The Brats in the house. Besides, getting out of all the Christmas atmosphere was necessary to get through any family holiday. Now all they needed was a six-pack of cold Dr. Pepper, but, in lieu of that, they could handle being annoying as sin.
Too bad no one was in the office, or riding the elevator at any rate. But things like that could be tolerated. Besides, it gave Kevin time to waste with David.
It never bothered him that he had more bonding experiences while stoned with his cousin than sober with his dad. After sixteen years, that got to be a mere fact of life.
“Virginity,” David sighed scholarly. “…Virginity, as a rule, is entirely tedious.”
Kevin opened his eyes out of curiosity; David’s gesticulations while he was ranting were always the best. Now, he was staring at the smoke detector on the ceiling, stretching his long, scrawny neck out and making a spectacle of his Adam’s apple. He didn’t have a cigarette, and never really smoked them anyway (he liked to use them as props, a trait Kevin either shared with or picked up from him), but waved his hand as though he had a cancer stick in between his fingers.
“I mean… for some people, it’s best to wait, but, for most of us, we’ve got culture on one end and biology on the other, and we just wake up every, single, boring-ass, same as the one before it day, wondering somewhere in our heads when we’re going to get it over with. It’s a rite of passage, and everyone wants to belong.”
“Not nuns,” Kevin offered with a shrug. “Or priests, or monks, or… people like that.”
“But, see, they still want it.” David coughed into his elbow, then looked Kevin straight on with his half-sunken, junkie eyes. “That’s why there was the whole altar boy scandal, and it’s why they always put nuns in charge of orphanages.”
“No way…”
“Yeah way! That way, if Sister Mary Joseph and Father What’s-His-Name get busy - and they can’t use condoms, ‘cuz they’re Catholic - but, if they get busy and something happens, they put the baby in the orphanage, confess their sins to someone who won’t tell, and happily go back to being a nun and a priest.”
“No way, man; it’d never work. Specially not with new Pope.”
“New Pope’s gonna croak soon anyway. That’s why they picked him: he’s gonna die in a few years, and they can use that time to groom that one cardinal from South America that everyone liked.”
“And bitch about The Da Vinci Code.”
“Didn’t they make a movie out of that?”
“Yeah. With Tom Hanks. Coming out next spring or something.”
“Fuckers. Can’t they come up with their own ideas already?”
“No… but that’s what indie movies are for.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And, and, and… I forgot what I was gonna say.”
“Whatever. …So, virginity.”
“Is a bitch.”
“My thoughts exactly. Lost it yet?”
“On Mike’s couch.”
“Very classy, Kev.”
“Where’d you lose yours? …Did you lose yours?”
“I was a little bit younger than you, I think.”
“Where?”
“Well… let’s just say that I have older friends and they have parties that I probably shouldn’t go to but do anyway.”
“…It wasn’t a drunk frat boy, was it? Please, David, for the love of God, tell me it wasn’t-”
“He was a drunk college boy for sure, but he was one of those… sociology major, coffee house types.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, and he-”
The bell rang, signaling that, at long last, they’d come to one of the random floors David had selected after hitting every floor for the third time turned out to be less thrilling than they wanted it to be. An exhibitionist at heart, David shifted back into his closest back corner, projecting visible apathy about whether or not someone was on the other side of the hesitant doors. It was too cool and Kevin had to follow suit; almost instantly, he wished he hadn’t. The doors slid open shakily, revealing a figure that was harassed down to its outline and the careless folds of his suit. His slouch was not the adolescently effortless slump that Kevin and David both had, but was, instead, forced there by something unknown… work or something. His arms were rigid, and Kevin recognized him instantly by the idiotic bright green tie that he only felt okay wearing when he knew that no one else was around. It was Dave Harris, Kevin’s father.
As he came into full view, dad unhitched his neck and stood on the barrier between the elevator and the rest of the building.
“Boys,” he said through a strained calm. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing? Eh? What’s your amazing excuse this time?”
“Dad, we… uhm…”
“Yes, Kevin? You have a good reason why you’re playing around in an office building? If so, I’d really love to hear it?”
“Uncle Dave, come on, we-”
“You are almost eighteen, David. It’s tomorrow, right?”
“Yes, but-”
“You kids,” he huffed, brushing wisps of hair off his face. “Nothing short of nuclear war and taking privileges away is going to make you aware of anything, is it?”
“Hey,” David snapped. “That is not true. I-”
“This is an office building and, contrary to popular opinion, some people do have to work right before Christmas-”
“Yeah, like you and the janitor!”
“David! This is ridiculous! You’re sixteen and seventeen, and you’ve been doing this since you were six and seven-”
“It was okay then!”
“You were children then-”
“We’re still children! Legally, psychologically, our parents-”
“Legally, David, you won’t be at two-seventeen tomorrow afternoon, to split hairs, since that is your hobby. Kevin still has more time, I’ll give you that, but you-” he jabbed a finger at David’s chest, but didn’t touch him, “don’t. Psychologically… I don’t know the diagnostics, so I’ll agree with you, but you’re both intelligent enough to handle yourselves like adults. As for your parents, I can’t say, but I know that with Kevin-”
“I’m right here, dad…”
“I have a high standard for his behavior because I know he can live up to it. That he chooses not to… I can’t explain it-”
“Still right here,” Kevin groaned.
“But I don’t like it. And I expect better from you, David, because-”
“It’s not hurting anyone!” David huffed, rolling his eyes.
“Perhaps not, but you’re wasting electricity and it’s annoying. Besides, there’s a lot to do before Christmas, and I’m sure your mothers could use some help back at home… go home.”
“One more time?” Kevin sighed, not caring about the whine.
“No,” dad snapped. “Go home.”
“Uncle Dave-”
“Home, David.”
Without another word, he stepped back and let the doors close. David sighed acquiescingly and pushed the button for the first floor; they still had to suffer through a few more floors before the long fall, but it was all over now. That was what mattered, really. Kevin and David were forced to go home and dad got his smug satisfaction. Through the mental link they had, David picked up on Kevin’s sentiments and said them so the younger boy wouldn’t have to:
“Your dad’s a fucking pig.”
Type: Gen
Genre: Meh. Sort of amusing, sort of angsty.
Characters: Kevin, David
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, drug references, sex talk.
Word Count: 1,291
Summary: Scottish stereotype junkies go trainspotting; Kevin and David ride elevators.
Disclaimer: Mine, except a few obvious pop culture references. Don't do drugs.
Closing his eyes (the oddly spaced flashes of color were getting monotonous), Kevin leaned against the smooth elevator wall opposite David and hummed quietly. These moments were the ones that made the adult emphasis on adolescence’s et ego in Arcadiam, salad days sentimentality make a little bit of sense. He was pretty sure that they weren’t talking about getting stoned and riding elevators when they gave their insipidly inspired little tirades, but Woodstock only existed as an idea anymore and watching The Wall was only fun without The Brats in the house. Besides, getting out of all the Christmas atmosphere was necessary to get through any family holiday. Now all they needed was a six-pack of cold Dr. Pepper, but, in lieu of that, they could handle being annoying as sin.
Too bad no one was in the office, or riding the elevator at any rate. But things like that could be tolerated. Besides, it gave Kevin time to waste with David.
It never bothered him that he had more bonding experiences while stoned with his cousin than sober with his dad. After sixteen years, that got to be a mere fact of life.
“Virginity,” David sighed scholarly. “…Virginity, as a rule, is entirely tedious.”
Kevin opened his eyes out of curiosity; David’s gesticulations while he was ranting were always the best. Now, he was staring at the smoke detector on the ceiling, stretching his long, scrawny neck out and making a spectacle of his Adam’s apple. He didn’t have a cigarette, and never really smoked them anyway (he liked to use them as props, a trait Kevin either shared with or picked up from him), but waved his hand as though he had a cancer stick in between his fingers.
“I mean… for some people, it’s best to wait, but, for most of us, we’ve got culture on one end and biology on the other, and we just wake up every, single, boring-ass, same as the one before it day, wondering somewhere in our heads when we’re going to get it over with. It’s a rite of passage, and everyone wants to belong.”
“Not nuns,” Kevin offered with a shrug. “Or priests, or monks, or… people like that.”
“But, see, they still want it.” David coughed into his elbow, then looked Kevin straight on with his half-sunken, junkie eyes. “That’s why there was the whole altar boy scandal, and it’s why they always put nuns in charge of orphanages.”
“No way…”
“Yeah way! That way, if Sister Mary Joseph and Father What’s-His-Name get busy - and they can’t use condoms, ‘cuz they’re Catholic - but, if they get busy and something happens, they put the baby in the orphanage, confess their sins to someone who won’t tell, and happily go back to being a nun and a priest.”
“No way, man; it’d never work. Specially not with new Pope.”
“New Pope’s gonna croak soon anyway. That’s why they picked him: he’s gonna die in a few years, and they can use that time to groom that one cardinal from South America that everyone liked.”
“And bitch about The Da Vinci Code.”
“Didn’t they make a movie out of that?”
“Yeah. With Tom Hanks. Coming out next spring or something.”
“Fuckers. Can’t they come up with their own ideas already?”
“No… but that’s what indie movies are for.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And, and, and… I forgot what I was gonna say.”
“Whatever. …So, virginity.”
“Is a bitch.”
“My thoughts exactly. Lost it yet?”
“On Mike’s couch.”
“Very classy, Kev.”
“Where’d you lose yours? …Did you lose yours?”
“I was a little bit younger than you, I think.”
“Where?”
“Well… let’s just say that I have older friends and they have parties that I probably shouldn’t go to but do anyway.”
“…It wasn’t a drunk frat boy, was it? Please, David, for the love of God, tell me it wasn’t-”
“He was a drunk college boy for sure, but he was one of those… sociology major, coffee house types.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, and he-”
The bell rang, signaling that, at long last, they’d come to one of the random floors David had selected after hitting every floor for the third time turned out to be less thrilling than they wanted it to be. An exhibitionist at heart, David shifted back into his closest back corner, projecting visible apathy about whether or not someone was on the other side of the hesitant doors. It was too cool and Kevin had to follow suit; almost instantly, he wished he hadn’t. The doors slid open shakily, revealing a figure that was harassed down to its outline and the careless folds of his suit. His slouch was not the adolescently effortless slump that Kevin and David both had, but was, instead, forced there by something unknown… work or something. His arms were rigid, and Kevin recognized him instantly by the idiotic bright green tie that he only felt okay wearing when he knew that no one else was around. It was Dave Harris, Kevin’s father.
As he came into full view, dad unhitched his neck and stood on the barrier between the elevator and the rest of the building.
“Boys,” he said through a strained calm. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing? Eh? What’s your amazing excuse this time?”
“Dad, we… uhm…”
“Yes, Kevin? You have a good reason why you’re playing around in an office building? If so, I’d really love to hear it?”
“Uncle Dave, come on, we-”
“You are almost eighteen, David. It’s tomorrow, right?”
“Yes, but-”
“You kids,” he huffed, brushing wisps of hair off his face. “Nothing short of nuclear war and taking privileges away is going to make you aware of anything, is it?”
“Hey,” David snapped. “That is not true. I-”
“This is an office building and, contrary to popular opinion, some people do have to work right before Christmas-”
“Yeah, like you and the janitor!”
“David! This is ridiculous! You’re sixteen and seventeen, and you’ve been doing this since you were six and seven-”
“It was okay then!”
“You were children then-”
“We’re still children! Legally, psychologically, our parents-”
“Legally, David, you won’t be at two-seventeen tomorrow afternoon, to split hairs, since that is your hobby. Kevin still has more time, I’ll give you that, but you-” he jabbed a finger at David’s chest, but didn’t touch him, “don’t. Psychologically… I don’t know the diagnostics, so I’ll agree with you, but you’re both intelligent enough to handle yourselves like adults. As for your parents, I can’t say, but I know that with Kevin-”
“I’m right here, dad…”
“I have a high standard for his behavior because I know he can live up to it. That he chooses not to… I can’t explain it-”
“Still right here,” Kevin groaned.
“But I don’t like it. And I expect better from you, David, because-”
“It’s not hurting anyone!” David huffed, rolling his eyes.
“Perhaps not, but you’re wasting electricity and it’s annoying. Besides, there’s a lot to do before Christmas, and I’m sure your mothers could use some help back at home… go home.”
“One more time?” Kevin sighed, not caring about the whine.
“No,” dad snapped. “Go home.”
“Uncle Dave-”
“Home, David.”
Without another word, he stepped back and let the doors close. David sighed acquiescingly and pushed the button for the first floor; they still had to suffer through a few more floors before the long fall, but it was all over now. That was what mattered, really. Kevin and David were forced to go home and dad got his smug satisfaction. Through the mental link they had, David picked up on Kevin’s sentiments and said them so the younger boy wouldn’t have to:
“Your dad’s a fucking pig.”