Smoking is a bad habit?
If the shrew does not quit yelling about everything she can fit in that tiny head of hers at six in the morning, I may as well just shoot myself now. She's been going non-stop since before I got up this morning to get ready for school. My left ear is literally going deaf. Old man can't you keep her in line? Isn't that what you are supposed to do?
Apparently, I can't keep my own mouth shut when it comes to these fucking journals. In Chinese /Chouji...I'm sorry man alright. My head isn't all there right now. If it's not in the clouds at work, then it's being yelled at by someone. I don't like when someone else is right, and I know it. I'm supposed to be the one to figure these things out./
Here goes another boring day of lectures. Hoping Asuma doesn't pray on my neck again like an ashtray if I fall asleep again. I'm also assuming I have another pile of make-up work to do...my grade hasn't budged. Old fart what the hell? I can practically read you the damn history book without have even opened it.
If I don't stop smoking now I think my throat will close in. *grumbles* I need some fucking gum...
Shikamaru stuck the cigarette in his mouth, proping up his feet on the computer table. Looking out the window it seemed dreary today. No chance for cloud watching. As he puffed away on the cigarette, he leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling.
Chouji knocked on the door before entering---as was his eternal habit---a bag of chips in his teeth and his arms full of textbooks. He coughed loudly when he walked in, groaning for added effect. "Aughhhhh it smells like a chimney in here. Do you know what they used to do to chimney sweep boys, Shika?"
"No, a feather duster?" he said laughing before putting the cigarette back in his mouth.
Chouji shuddered, tossing his books on a spare corner of desk and tearing his chip bag open with his teeth. "See, they used to use little orphan boys to sweep out chimneys. They'd shave them all up, and make 'em go in naked---so they didn't get stuck, right? Well, if the kid didn't do it fast enough, some people would...poke up the chimney with a hot poker...and yeah, mr. scrotum and mr. hot poker aren't friends. Those sores were the first kind of cancer recognized by the English," he said, going into history-teacher mode without noticing. Unlike Shikamaru, he enjoyed Asuma-sensei's lectures. "...which, I might add, you'll be getting if you don't stop sucking on those death sticks."
Shikamaru raised a brow at Chouji's long winded speech. "Are you trying to make a point here?" he said coughing slightly as he inhaled more than exhaling at the moment. Eyes watering slightly he looked over to his friend. "That class is a bore, how do you stay awake?"
"Because---oh come on, isn't that interesting?" Chouji asked, blinking. "I mean, there's the whole debate I had after class with him about what happened to the guys who got jiggy with the barnyard animals. ---And put that out, idiot."
"It's damn disturbing..." he said coughing again. This cough came out more strangled than usual, as he took his feet down from the table to try and control it sitting up.
The fat boy gave him a long look, handing him a soda. "You gonna make it, slim?"
"I'm fine" he said huskily as he put the cigarette in the ashtray. He stared at the bright monitor of the computer and continued to draw out raggid, long coughs. This hadn't happend before.
Chouji worried his lower lip, confusion and a touch of anger coming into his expression. He put a heavy hand on his shoulder, feeling the spasming of his tight muscles and jutting bones. He was getting so thin again... "Hey, calm down. Deep breaths. Put your hands over your head and relax---it'll help free up the coughing."
He rubbed his neck slightly, his throat burning. The coughs got more wet sounding , as he placed a heavy hand on the table.
Goddamn, he sounded like someone who'd been chain-smoking most of their life. The deep, hacking cough rattling his chest was sick to hear, grating. "Shika---?"
With the last cough, the bright monitor of the computer now was sprayed lightly with specs of blood. Had that come from him?
Chouji's heart dropped into the general vacinity of his stomach---it was like falling from a great height, the sloshed feeling of lost gravity. A thin line of blood was worming its way down Shikamaru's chin.
He took his hand and wiped away at some of the speckles of blood on the screen. He could see his reflection, and see the thin line down his chin of the same red liquid. He picked up a dirty shirt on the floor, one he didn't care about and wiped it off his hand and chin. "Well...shit..." he said lightly.
"Well shit, yeah," Chouji ground out, still feeling unbalanced. He looked over at the overloaded ashtray, and at the empty, crumpled packs of cigarettes. "You..." he gritted his teeth, picked up the one full pack, and snarled down at it. "These are going to kill you, so I'm taking them away."
"I've cut down...." he said stifly, as he wiped of the monitor. "That's never happend before..." he said in a soft whisper.
"Once is enough---more than enough," Chouji said sharply. "I only had a major heart episode once, and that almost killed me. Once---this cinches it. If I ever see another of these cancer sticks in your mouth, I'm going to beat you up."
"Oh ho, going to sit on me?" he said raising a brow with his sarcastic tone.
"With every single ounce of my Jabba-like body," Chouji assured him with highly-narrowed eyes. "No more ciggies for you."
He grumbled rolling his eyes. "Damn it...they make me look sexy didn't you know?" he said with a laugh. Hell if someone acutally believed those ads.
"Oh, yeeeeees," Chouji chirped in falsetto, still with that 'I-want-to-hit-you-right-now' expression on his face. "Coughing up blood all over and wheezing like an asthmatic is so sexy, I could jump you right now."
He looked over at Chouji, blank expression on his face. His mind saying, shit don't say stuff like that to me. "Guess the women don't go for the ashtray smell for fabric softner huh?" he said turning away and trying to ignore the comment.
Chouji rolled his eyes---ahaha, the famous Nara selective hearing was coming back for a riotous encore---and stuck the package of cigarettes in the front pouch of his sweatshirt. "You won't be getting these back, you know. I'm dead serious---I will smack you if I see you sucking away on another cig. You're going to end up killing me with second-hand smoke."
"Gives you flavor..." he said with a chuckle. It was always his way to joke around. He knew Chouji was serious. He was serious as well. He moved his tounge around in his mouth, the bitter taste of blood still on it."
"'Crispy' doesn't taste very good. Neither does your blood, actually...and, unfortunately, I know this from experience," Chouji deadpanned, handing him his glass of water. "Go rinse and spit, and then we'll talk."
He grumbled again snatching the glass of water and trodding slowley to the bathroom. After a minute or two of rinsing he came back out, wiping his mouth with a towel. He looked straight at Chouji.
"This can't go on. I know I'm not your mother, but dammit, I might as well be," he said grouchily, waving the cigarettes.
"Your making me cross-eyed. What are you talking about?" he said with a sigh, knowing full well what this was about.
Chouji sighed heavily, hanging his head. His voice came, but only barely. "Stop punishing yourself. Please."
"I'm not punishing myself" he said firmly crossing his arms.
"First the drinking, then this...it's not an escape, or even a placebo Temari. Stop trying to pretend that it is!"
"It helps my nerves that's all" he said as an excuse.
"Then---then flog your dog or whatever, because that won't slowly, painfully kill you," Chouji said waspishly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Shikamaru inwardly twitched. "Stop talking about masterbation....shit...."
"Guilty little bastard," he said with a twitchy smirk. "So whaaaaaat. If stress relief is what you're aiming for, try something a little more constructive."
"I don't do that...." he huffed, taking a seat at the computer.
"Uh-huh, Mr. So Good With His Famous Nara Hands," he said with a chuckle. "Say what you'd like."
"Don't talk about me like I'm some kind of porn star...." he said rolling his eyes.
Chouji made an interesting sound that could have been a mumble of 'I'd buy it' masked by a cough. Either way, his cheeks flushed and he sat back down with his contraband cigarettes to do his homework.
"I'm not big enough" he mumbled out under his breath.
Chouji crumpled up the cigarette packet with one hand and tossed it at Shikamaru's head. "You're FINE! SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR GODDAMN PENIS ALREADY!"
"STOP THROWING SHIT AT ME!" he rounded back throwing checking the pack for a cigarette. Shit he'd had the last one. He muttered a string of curses under his breath.
Chouji pulled a face, sticking his tongue out at him. Mature? Oh, yeaaaah.
"Oh that was real childish of you" he said throwing the crumpled package back at him.
"I'm not a grown up yet," Chouji said imperiously. "And YOU should stop acting like you are."
"I don't" he said in a huff. Who was he kidding, he was like an old man.
"All you need is a walking cane. You've already got the mad squint and the gimpness."
"Shut up!" he said ready to bolt over and tackle his friend. Only Chouji could easily throw a hand in his direction and knock him off course. "I don't see grey hair and false teeth yet." he huffed.
Chouji grinned. "I give you five years max. Me, I'm already getting grays, and I blame it SQUARELY on you."
Shikamaru glared over at him and just pounded over to his friend ready to wrestle him in a loosing battle. They hadn't done that since they were four.
Chouji tilted his head to look up at him, and just smiled. He knew that flustered look---he was going to try something.
Shikamaru attempted to tackle him. It wasn't working. Chouji was so much bigger than him as he tried to wrestle him to the floor. "I hate when you talk to me like that" he grumbled out.
Chouji watched Shikamaru try to wrestle him with the same sort of fondness as someone watching a kitten tackle their foot. He was equally as unmoved, and had his easily situated across his lap, pulled into a half-Nelson, before he could even think to fight his hold. "You only hate it because nobody else will, and because I'm right."
"Damn it" Shikamaru muttered out as he attempted to regain his posture and get the better of his slightly bigger friend. He huffed. It never worked. Even at four Chouji could have him crying for mother before Shikamaru could even budge him.
"Buddy," Chouji said, trying not to laugh and failing. He tightened his hold slightly, though he knew he didn't need to. Shikamaru had never bested him, and probably never would. "How much did you say you weighed?"
Shikamaru glared as Chouji laughed and kept the tight hold on him. "140" he said in a growl.
"Here's a secret that not a soul alive knows, and I will kick your ass if you repeat it. I tip the scale at 248. So. I have you by quite a bit, bud, and a lot of it is muscle. You really can't win, but I can sit like a good bitch if you want to try pinning me. I won't wriggle, even."
Shikamaru groaned and rolled his eyes. "I lose" he said sounding defeated. He never could win at this. "Temari's so much easier to wrestle..." he said with a pout.
Chouji patted his poof-less head, sighing melodramatically. "It's okay. You tried hard. ---And, unfortunately for you, I am far from being Temari."
"Guess I do need to pack on some weight if I'm to ever beat you" he said standing up and patting his stomach.
"You need to pack on some weight, period," Chouji muttered, poking him in the ribs. "You're getting to bare bones again."
He poked at his stomch again. "Ehhh....the shrew hasn't been cooking as much..."
"You know I'll feed you until you waddle," Chouji said with a twitchy smirk.
"Correction. You'll feed me until I roll out" he said with a slight laugh. He then pouted again. "I miss her..."
Chouji rubbed his chin, thinking, belatedly, that he needed to shave. "...all our conversations seem to make this loop..."
"Huh?" Shikamaru said not even realizing he'd just slipped and said what he had.
((Side note: As you guys may have noticed in Chouji's journal, he and Shika have a code when they talk. So whenever you see the "/" that means they are talking in Chinese.))
Apparently, I can't keep my own mouth shut when it comes to these fucking journals. In Chinese /Chouji...I'm sorry man alright. My head isn't all there right now. If it's not in the clouds at work, then it's being yelled at by someone. I don't like when someone else is right, and I know it. I'm supposed to be the one to figure these things out./
Here goes another boring day of lectures. Hoping Asuma doesn't pray on my neck again like an ashtray if I fall asleep again. I'm also assuming I have another pile of make-up work to do...my grade hasn't budged. Old fart what the hell? I can practically read you the damn history book without have even opened it.
If I don't stop smoking now I think my throat will close in. *grumbles* I need some fucking gum...
Shikamaru stuck the cigarette in his mouth, proping up his feet on the computer table. Looking out the window it seemed dreary today. No chance for cloud watching. As he puffed away on the cigarette, he leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling.
Chouji knocked on the door before entering---as was his eternal habit---a bag of chips in his teeth and his arms full of textbooks. He coughed loudly when he walked in, groaning for added effect. "Aughhhhh it smells like a chimney in here. Do you know what they used to do to chimney sweep boys, Shika?"
"No, a feather duster?" he said laughing before putting the cigarette back in his mouth.
Chouji shuddered, tossing his books on a spare corner of desk and tearing his chip bag open with his teeth. "See, they used to use little orphan boys to sweep out chimneys. They'd shave them all up, and make 'em go in naked---so they didn't get stuck, right? Well, if the kid didn't do it fast enough, some people would...poke up the chimney with a hot poker...and yeah, mr. scrotum and mr. hot poker aren't friends. Those sores were the first kind of cancer recognized by the English," he said, going into history-teacher mode without noticing. Unlike Shikamaru, he enjoyed Asuma-sensei's lectures. "...which, I might add, you'll be getting if you don't stop sucking on those death sticks."
Shikamaru raised a brow at Chouji's long winded speech. "Are you trying to make a point here?" he said coughing slightly as he inhaled more than exhaling at the moment. Eyes watering slightly he looked over to his friend. "That class is a bore, how do you stay awake?"
"Because---oh come on, isn't that interesting?" Chouji asked, blinking. "I mean, there's the whole debate I had after class with him about what happened to the guys who got jiggy with the barnyard animals. ---And put that out, idiot."
"It's damn disturbing..." he said coughing again. This cough came out more strangled than usual, as he took his feet down from the table to try and control it sitting up.
The fat boy gave him a long look, handing him a soda. "You gonna make it, slim?"
"I'm fine" he said huskily as he put the cigarette in the ashtray. He stared at the bright monitor of the computer and continued to draw out raggid, long coughs. This hadn't happend before.
Chouji worried his lower lip, confusion and a touch of anger coming into his expression. He put a heavy hand on his shoulder, feeling the spasming of his tight muscles and jutting bones. He was getting so thin again... "Hey, calm down. Deep breaths. Put your hands over your head and relax---it'll help free up the coughing."
He rubbed his neck slightly, his throat burning. The coughs got more wet sounding , as he placed a heavy hand on the table.
Goddamn, he sounded like someone who'd been chain-smoking most of their life. The deep, hacking cough rattling his chest was sick to hear, grating. "Shika---?"
With the last cough, the bright monitor of the computer now was sprayed lightly with specs of blood. Had that come from him?
Chouji's heart dropped into the general vacinity of his stomach---it was like falling from a great height, the sloshed feeling of lost gravity. A thin line of blood was worming its way down Shikamaru's chin.
He took his hand and wiped away at some of the speckles of blood on the screen. He could see his reflection, and see the thin line down his chin of the same red liquid. He picked up a dirty shirt on the floor, one he didn't care about and wiped it off his hand and chin. "Well...shit..." he said lightly.
"Well shit, yeah," Chouji ground out, still feeling unbalanced. He looked over at the overloaded ashtray, and at the empty, crumpled packs of cigarettes. "You..." he gritted his teeth, picked up the one full pack, and snarled down at it. "These are going to kill you, so I'm taking them away."
"I've cut down...." he said stifly, as he wiped of the monitor. "That's never happend before..." he said in a soft whisper.
"Once is enough---more than enough," Chouji said sharply. "I only had a major heart episode once, and that almost killed me. Once---this cinches it. If I ever see another of these cancer sticks in your mouth, I'm going to beat you up."
"Oh ho, going to sit on me?" he said raising a brow with his sarcastic tone.
"With every single ounce of my Jabba-like body," Chouji assured him with highly-narrowed eyes. "No more ciggies for you."
He grumbled rolling his eyes. "Damn it...they make me look sexy didn't you know?" he said with a laugh. Hell if someone acutally believed those ads.
"Oh, yeeeeees," Chouji chirped in falsetto, still with that 'I-want-to-hit-you-right-now' expression on his face. "Coughing up blood all over and wheezing like an asthmatic is so sexy, I could jump you right now."
He looked over at Chouji, blank expression on his face. His mind saying, shit don't say stuff like that to me. "Guess the women don't go for the ashtray smell for fabric softner huh?" he said turning away and trying to ignore the comment.
Chouji rolled his eyes---ahaha, the famous Nara selective hearing was coming back for a riotous encore---and stuck the package of cigarettes in the front pouch of his sweatshirt. "You won't be getting these back, you know. I'm dead serious---I will smack you if I see you sucking away on another cig. You're going to end up killing me with second-hand smoke."
"Gives you flavor..." he said with a chuckle. It was always his way to joke around. He knew Chouji was serious. He was serious as well. He moved his tounge around in his mouth, the bitter taste of blood still on it."
"'Crispy' doesn't taste very good. Neither does your blood, actually...and, unfortunately, I know this from experience," Chouji deadpanned, handing him his glass of water. "Go rinse and spit, and then we'll talk."
He grumbled again snatching the glass of water and trodding slowley to the bathroom. After a minute or two of rinsing he came back out, wiping his mouth with a towel. He looked straight at Chouji.
"This can't go on. I know I'm not your mother, but dammit, I might as well be," he said grouchily, waving the cigarettes.
"Your making me cross-eyed. What are you talking about?" he said with a sigh, knowing full well what this was about.
Chouji sighed heavily, hanging his head. His voice came, but only barely. "Stop punishing yourself. Please."
"I'm not punishing myself" he said firmly crossing his arms.
"First the drinking, then this...it's not an escape, or even a placebo Temari. Stop trying to pretend that it is!"
"It helps my nerves that's all" he said as an excuse.
"Then---then flog your dog or whatever, because that won't slowly, painfully kill you," Chouji said waspishly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Shikamaru inwardly twitched. "Stop talking about masterbation....shit...."
"Guilty little bastard," he said with a twitchy smirk. "So whaaaaaat. If stress relief is what you're aiming for, try something a little more constructive."
"I don't do that...." he huffed, taking a seat at the computer.
"Uh-huh, Mr. So Good With His Famous Nara Hands," he said with a chuckle. "Say what you'd like."
"Don't talk about me like I'm some kind of porn star...." he said rolling his eyes.
Chouji made an interesting sound that could have been a mumble of 'I'd buy it' masked by a cough. Either way, his cheeks flushed and he sat back down with his contraband cigarettes to do his homework.
"I'm not big enough" he mumbled out under his breath.
Chouji crumpled up the cigarette packet with one hand and tossed it at Shikamaru's head. "You're FINE! SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR GODDAMN PENIS ALREADY!"
"STOP THROWING SHIT AT ME!" he rounded back throwing checking the pack for a cigarette. Shit he'd had the last one. He muttered a string of curses under his breath.
Chouji pulled a face, sticking his tongue out at him. Mature? Oh, yeaaaah.
"Oh that was real childish of you" he said throwing the crumpled package back at him.
"I'm not a grown up yet," Chouji said imperiously. "And YOU should stop acting like you are."
"I don't" he said in a huff. Who was he kidding, he was like an old man.
"All you need is a walking cane. You've already got the mad squint and the gimpness."
"Shut up!" he said ready to bolt over and tackle his friend. Only Chouji could easily throw a hand in his direction and knock him off course. "I don't see grey hair and false teeth yet." he huffed.
Chouji grinned. "I give you five years max. Me, I'm already getting grays, and I blame it SQUARELY on you."
Shikamaru glared over at him and just pounded over to his friend ready to wrestle him in a loosing battle. They hadn't done that since they were four.
Chouji tilted his head to look up at him, and just smiled. He knew that flustered look---he was going to try something.
Shikamaru attempted to tackle him. It wasn't working. Chouji was so much bigger than him as he tried to wrestle him to the floor. "I hate when you talk to me like that" he grumbled out.
Chouji watched Shikamaru try to wrestle him with the same sort of fondness as someone watching a kitten tackle their foot. He was equally as unmoved, and had his easily situated across his lap, pulled into a half-Nelson, before he could even think to fight his hold. "You only hate it because nobody else will, and because I'm right."
"Damn it" Shikamaru muttered out as he attempted to regain his posture and get the better of his slightly bigger friend. He huffed. It never worked. Even at four Chouji could have him crying for mother before Shikamaru could even budge him.
"Buddy," Chouji said, trying not to laugh and failing. He tightened his hold slightly, though he knew he didn't need to. Shikamaru had never bested him, and probably never would. "How much did you say you weighed?"
Shikamaru glared as Chouji laughed and kept the tight hold on him. "140" he said in a growl.
"Here's a secret that not a soul alive knows, and I will kick your ass if you repeat it. I tip the scale at 248. So. I have you by quite a bit, bud, and a lot of it is muscle. You really can't win, but I can sit like a good bitch if you want to try pinning me. I won't wriggle, even."
Shikamaru groaned and rolled his eyes. "I lose" he said sounding defeated. He never could win at this. "Temari's so much easier to wrestle..." he said with a pout.
Chouji patted his poof-less head, sighing melodramatically. "It's okay. You tried hard. ---And, unfortunately for you, I am far from being Temari."
"Guess I do need to pack on some weight if I'm to ever beat you" he said standing up and patting his stomach.
"You need to pack on some weight, period," Chouji muttered, poking him in the ribs. "You're getting to bare bones again."
He poked at his stomch again. "Ehhh....the shrew hasn't been cooking as much..."
"You know I'll feed you until you waddle," Chouji said with a twitchy smirk.
"Correction. You'll feed me until I roll out" he said with a slight laugh. He then pouted again. "I miss her..."
Chouji rubbed his chin, thinking, belatedly, that he needed to shave. "...all our conversations seem to make this loop..."
"Huh?" Shikamaru said not even realizing he'd just slipped and said what he had.
((Side note: As you guys may have noticed in Chouji's journal, he and Shika have a code when they talk. So whenever you see the "/" that means they are talking in Chinese.))