THIS IS A "FIC". A "FIC" FOR HAINE
Badou wasn't sure what has prompted it. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't eaten a real meal in two days and clearly looked it. Maybe it was the fact that he had just spent the better part of an hour waiting around for customers to leave the Buon Viaggio and swooping in on their leftovers before anyone had the chance to clean them. Maybe it was the fact that he had been whining about how starving he was all day. Or maybe it was his earlier stint begging in front of the cafe which had caused potential patrons to cross to the other side of the street and eye him warily.
Anyway, whatever it was, Kiri had finally raised her eyebrows, made a tiny noise of disdain, and said to Badou, "I'm giving you money to go grocery shopping." She pointed an accusing finger at Haine, causing him to back up and nearly trip over a chair. "Keep him in line and don't let him waste it."
The money was to be used for essential food items and nothing else, Kiri said, as she shooed them off and gave them directions to one of the good stores, making sure to remind Haine that under no circumstances should he allow Badou to buy alcohol, poronography, and/or more than one pack of cigarettes. Haine murmured agreement, as she shoved the handy list of acceptable food purchases at Badou, and took off as soon as possible as she turned her back on them. Badou swore and ran to catch up with him.
--
And that was exactly how they came to be at the local superstore. Badou turned to Haine and watched as he blinked grumpily at the yellowish flourescent lights. "Ever been to one of these fancy places before?"
Haine shrugged and quickly flattened himself against a wall as a woman passed by.
Badou looked at the list. "Oi, Haine, ...what the fuck's a plaintain?"
"Looks like green bananas."
"Why don't they just call it that, then?"
"Do I look like the person in charge of the Official Banana Naming Committee to you?" Haine mumbled.
As he watched Haine glare menacingly at the poor old woman with the squeaky shopping cart who had brushed a little too near them, Badou figured it was going to be a long trip. A very long trip. And, for once, he was completely and utterly right.
--
The plan was as follows: rip the shopping list in half, give one piece to each of them, and get it done twice as quickly, because the light and the women were bothering Haine's eyes and brain (respectively), and Badou was beginning to feel self-conscious about not having bathed in five days. It was a good plan on paper, but failed to take into account the fact that neither of them really knew what they were doing. In retrospect, Badou thought as he looked at the hundreds of cereal boxes stretching into the horizon, they should have really considered that.
He wondered how Haine was faring as he took at a sharpie and scribbled a monocle and top hat onto that punk Tony the Tiger's stupid face. He had always liked Count Chocula better, anyway.
--
Haine had spent the last ten minutes considering the condiments in front of him. He felt a bit stupid for not knowing what the possibly huge difference between ketchup and catsup was, and to make matters worse, it seemed as if the store staff was purposely giving him a wide berth. Not that he would have asked about it, anyway. He gazed longingly at the mustards and wondered if he would fare better with them.
It turned out the answer was no. And it would be no for the rest of the entire goddamned excursion.
--
An hour later, they both sat on the curb outside the store dejectedly. Haine had been kicked out for threatening a stockboy with a can of tomato sauce, frantically yelling something about garnish, and Badou had somehow managed to lock himself behind one of the glass doors in the refrigerated ice cream section. Most of the money Kiri had given him had went towards replacing the two and a half boxes of neopoliton he had eaten while stuck there, as well as the various other boxes he had sat on, squashed, or otherwise had contaminated in some way or another.
"Next time," Haine said, "We should get someone to do this for us."
"Yeah, someone who knows what plantains are," Badou agreed.
"And about catsup."
"And why the fuck Tony the Tiger is such a fucking douchebag."
"You're an idiot," Haine snapped. Then he punched Badou, and the world had suddenly righted itself once again.
--
~THE END BECAUSE I RAN OUT OF IDEAS~
Anyway, whatever it was, Kiri had finally raised her eyebrows, made a tiny noise of disdain, and said to Badou, "I'm giving you money to go grocery shopping." She pointed an accusing finger at Haine, causing him to back up and nearly trip over a chair. "Keep him in line and don't let him waste it."
The money was to be used for essential food items and nothing else, Kiri said, as she shooed them off and gave them directions to one of the good stores, making sure to remind Haine that under no circumstances should he allow Badou to buy alcohol, poronography, and/or more than one pack of cigarettes. Haine murmured agreement, as she shoved the handy list of acceptable food purchases at Badou, and took off as soon as possible as she turned her back on them. Badou swore and ran to catch up with him.
--
And that was exactly how they came to be at the local superstore. Badou turned to Haine and watched as he blinked grumpily at the yellowish flourescent lights. "Ever been to one of these fancy places before?"
Haine shrugged and quickly flattened himself against a wall as a woman passed by.
Badou looked at the list. "Oi, Haine, ...what the fuck's a plaintain?"
"Looks like green bananas."
"Why don't they just call it that, then?"
"Do I look like the person in charge of the Official Banana Naming Committee to you?" Haine mumbled.
As he watched Haine glare menacingly at the poor old woman with the squeaky shopping cart who had brushed a little too near them, Badou figured it was going to be a long trip. A very long trip. And, for once, he was completely and utterly right.
--
The plan was as follows: rip the shopping list in half, give one piece to each of them, and get it done twice as quickly, because the light and the women were bothering Haine's eyes and brain (respectively), and Badou was beginning to feel self-conscious about not having bathed in five days. It was a good plan on paper, but failed to take into account the fact that neither of them really knew what they were doing. In retrospect, Badou thought as he looked at the hundreds of cereal boxes stretching into the horizon, they should have really considered that.
He wondered how Haine was faring as he took at a sharpie and scribbled a monocle and top hat onto that punk Tony the Tiger's stupid face. He had always liked Count Chocula better, anyway.
--
Haine had spent the last ten minutes considering the condiments in front of him. He felt a bit stupid for not knowing what the possibly huge difference between ketchup and catsup was, and to make matters worse, it seemed as if the store staff was purposely giving him a wide berth. Not that he would have asked about it, anyway. He gazed longingly at the mustards and wondered if he would fare better with them.
It turned out the answer was no. And it would be no for the rest of the entire goddamned excursion.
--
An hour later, they both sat on the curb outside the store dejectedly. Haine had been kicked out for threatening a stockboy with a can of tomato sauce, frantically yelling something about garnish, and Badou had somehow managed to lock himself behind one of the glass doors in the refrigerated ice cream section. Most of the money Kiri had given him had went towards replacing the two and a half boxes of neopoliton he had eaten while stuck there, as well as the various other boxes he had sat on, squashed, or otherwise had contaminated in some way or another.
"Next time," Haine said, "We should get someone to do this for us."
"Yeah, someone who knows what plantains are," Badou agreed.
"And about catsup."
"And why the fuck Tony the Tiger is such a fucking douchebag."
"You're an idiot," Haine snapped. Then he punched Badou, and the world had suddenly righted itself once again.
--
~THE END BECAUSE I RAN OUT OF IDEAS~