rabbitverse flash fiction: "pineapples"
Title: Pineapples
Genre: General, Humor
Characters/Pairings: Wat Jona, Vaughan Valerie
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: In the summer of 1990, Vaughan and Wat have a totally mature discussion about pineapples and the taste of ladyparts.
Notes: Decided to write some flash fiction about these two before they were in their 30s. Prompt courtesy of hammster. This has got to be one of the most retarded things I've ever written. Vaughan and Wat are around sixteen, nearing on seventeen, here.
Summertime in the Valerie household meant peaches and pineapples and lemonade. Rimoda was famous for its well-tended peach groves and a little less famous for its numerous homemade lemonade shops. It was not particularly famous for pineapple, but Vaughan and Wat were both immensely fond of it. Kenneth had been convinced that Wat would pop with happiness the first time he’d tasted pineapple.
“Pineapple’s a symbol in some cultures, you know,” Vaughan said, sucking the juice out of half a pineapple ring. “I read it in a book somewhere.”
“Yeah. You told me.” Wat crammed two pineapple rings into his mouth. The juice dribbled out from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, and he wiped it away on the back of his hand. He leaned a little to the left to catch a decent breeze from the rotating fan. Midday in summertime and no air conditioning meant lots of fans and lots of moving as little as humanly possible.“It’f a fign of welcome or fomefink.” Slurping, he swallowed the large pineapple chunks in his mouth whole and managed somehow not to choke.
“Not just that,” Vaughan said sagely. “It’s a sex symbol. You know. For…girls. Girl parts.” He cleared his throat. “For the - ”
“No it’s not,” Wat said loudly, rolling his eyes. He hesitated. “Wait, really? How?”
Vaughan grinned impishly, tearing a dirty napkin in half. He wadded it up in one hand, still working away at the juicy pineapple in the bowl in front of him. “Because that’s what it tastes like. You know - like pineapples.”
Wat looked at him, skepticism written all over his face. He scratched his chin. It itched where the juice had dripped. “You’re making that up.”
“I so am not!” Vaughan protested. “It’s true.”
“Yeah? How d’you know?” Wat scrunched his nose and chewed on his fork for a moment before picking up another pineapple ring. “It’s not like you’ve ever tasted it.”
“What - I so have,” Vaughan said adamantly. “I have and it tastes like pineapples.”
Wat gulped down his mouthful of pineapple. “You so have not! You always lie about stuff like that! You’ve only ever kissed a girl and that was Mary May, and she said you were awful at it - ”
“Shut up SHUT UP,” Vaughan yelled.
“Besides,” Wat said thoughtfully, gnawing on his plastic fork, “I heard it’s supposed to taste like fish.”
Vaughan snorted and loaded the balled up napkin into his fork. “You wish it tasted like fish.” He bent the fork back and launched the napkin ball at Wat’s head. Wat twitched and batted it away.
“Shut up,” he muttered. “That’s just what I heard, okay.”
“It’s totally pineapples,” Vaughan said flippantly.
“Maybe it tastes different to everyone,” Wat said. “Maybe it tastes like pineapples for you and fish for me.”
“Maybe it just tastes like chicken,” Vaughan said, and slurped up the pineapple juice in his bowl. “Everything tastes like chicken.”
Genre: General, Humor
Characters/Pairings: Wat Jona, Vaughan Valerie
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: In the summer of 1990, Vaughan and Wat have a totally mature discussion about pineapples and the taste of ladyparts.
Notes: Decided to write some flash fiction about these two before they were in their 30s. Prompt courtesy of hammster. This has got to be one of the most retarded things I've ever written. Vaughan and Wat are around sixteen, nearing on seventeen, here.
Summertime in the Valerie household meant peaches and pineapples and lemonade. Rimoda was famous for its well-tended peach groves and a little less famous for its numerous homemade lemonade shops. It was not particularly famous for pineapple, but Vaughan and Wat were both immensely fond of it. Kenneth had been convinced that Wat would pop with happiness the first time he’d tasted pineapple.
“Pineapple’s a symbol in some cultures, you know,” Vaughan said, sucking the juice out of half a pineapple ring. “I read it in a book somewhere.”
“Yeah. You told me.” Wat crammed two pineapple rings into his mouth. The juice dribbled out from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, and he wiped it away on the back of his hand. He leaned a little to the left to catch a decent breeze from the rotating fan. Midday in summertime and no air conditioning meant lots of fans and lots of moving as little as humanly possible.“It’f a fign of welcome or fomefink.” Slurping, he swallowed the large pineapple chunks in his mouth whole and managed somehow not to choke.
“Not just that,” Vaughan said sagely. “It’s a sex symbol. You know. For…girls. Girl parts.” He cleared his throat. “For the - ”
“No it’s not,” Wat said loudly, rolling his eyes. He hesitated. “Wait, really? How?”
Vaughan grinned impishly, tearing a dirty napkin in half. He wadded it up in one hand, still working away at the juicy pineapple in the bowl in front of him. “Because that’s what it tastes like. You know - like pineapples.”
Wat looked at him, skepticism written all over his face. He scratched his chin. It itched where the juice had dripped. “You’re making that up.”
“I so am not!” Vaughan protested. “It’s true.”
“Yeah? How d’you know?” Wat scrunched his nose and chewed on his fork for a moment before picking up another pineapple ring. “It’s not like you’ve ever tasted it.”
“What - I so have,” Vaughan said adamantly. “I have and it tastes like pineapples.”
Wat gulped down his mouthful of pineapple. “You so have not! You always lie about stuff like that! You’ve only ever kissed a girl and that was Mary May, and she said you were awful at it - ”
“Shut up SHUT UP,” Vaughan yelled.
“Besides,” Wat said thoughtfully, gnawing on his plastic fork, “I heard it’s supposed to taste like fish.”
Vaughan snorted and loaded the balled up napkin into his fork. “You wish it tasted like fish.” He bent the fork back and launched the napkin ball at Wat’s head. Wat twitched and batted it away.
“Shut up,” he muttered. “That’s just what I heard, okay.”
“It’s totally pineapples,” Vaughan said flippantly.
“Maybe it tastes different to everyone,” Wat said. “Maybe it tastes like pineapples for you and fish for me.”
“Maybe it just tastes like chicken,” Vaughan said, and slurped up the pineapple juice in his bowl. “Everything tastes like chicken.”