The Only One That Matters
The Only One That Matters
Sydney Alexis
[.088 School]
Orientation, roughly translated from Bullshit College President to English, was a pathetic waste of time designed to drag a first-time freshman and his or her parents all over the fucking campus while some overly caffeinated bimbo who’s so happy to be there points at random buildings.
The only bonus was that his dads managed to make anything marginally interesting completely amusing.
For starters, they walked everywhere hand-in-hand just to piss off the straight couples.
That worked for about ten minutes after which the uptight, upper crust pointedly ignored them.
And then the stories started.
“In the distance, you can see our football and stadium. Erected in…” The bimbo said. Her words were, however, drowned out.
“July 1989. Sandy blond hair, brown eyes. I fucked him against the wall in the concession stand,” Brian said, pausing to smirk. “When he came he screamed ‘touchdown.’”
Gus laughed. “Not very hygienic.”
Brian raised his eyebrow at his kid. “Wasn’t planning on eating anything from the stand, Sonny Boy.”
“And this is our English department. We offer a wide variety of classes-from Shakespeare to Joyce.”
“I came here to pick Mikey up from his little presentation for the Professor’s class. One of them…”
“One of them,” Gus gasped.
“One of them blew the guy that I was fucking.”
Gus shook his head and laughed as the woman in front of them turned to stare them down. The scandalized look on her face was priceless.
“And now, we’re coming up on our art building…some of the most promising and well known artists of the 20th century came through these very doors…”
Justin snorted audibly making the girl pause just long enough to loose her place in her well-practice script.
Gus buried his head in his hands, laughing. “Not in the doorway, Pops!”
Fighting a smirk, Justin shook his head. “The empty studio classroom we’re about to pass on the left.”
Grinning broadly, Gus threw over his shoulder, “I guess I’ll have to rechristen the place.”
The family barbecue was next. Filled with squalling children, happy hetero couples, greasy burgers, and all the other great things that made his dads twitchy, Gus sat at the table laughing silently.
They passed the hours of torment that was Family Night by mocking everything and everyone…and pointing out more conquests. The latter had gone on for nearly twenty minutes before Gus in his sleep deprived state finally started to catch on.
“Red head by the punch bowl. I pitched to his company a couple of years ago.”
Gus glanced across the way to the aforementioned guy who was kind of pathetic by his dads’ standards and back to the little smile Brian had. Between it and the nonchalant tone Justin offered when he replied, he finally figured it out.
“His kid is kind of scary looking. That stripped shirt makes him look like an inmate,” Justin replied, scrunching up his nose.
And yeah, Gus was thick sometimes.
Rolling his eyes, he motioned across the table and replied, “Blond you picked up under a streetlamp.” A beat. “And the only one that matters.”
And, if you're in the mood for more bad!crack!fic, be sure to chek out [.046 Star]. In the words of Charlie, it's like whoa. Lame.
The fluff! It burns!
fanfic100: 33/100 [Great Big Box of Everything]
Sydney Alexis
[.088 School]
Orientation, roughly translated from Bullshit College President to English, was a pathetic waste of time designed to drag a first-time freshman and his or her parents all over the fucking campus while some overly caffeinated bimbo who’s so happy to be there points at random buildings.
The only bonus was that his dads managed to make anything marginally interesting completely amusing.
For starters, they walked everywhere hand-in-hand just to piss off the straight couples.
That worked for about ten minutes after which the uptight, upper crust pointedly ignored them.
And then the stories started.
“In the distance, you can see our football and stadium. Erected in…” The bimbo said. Her words were, however, drowned out.
“July 1989. Sandy blond hair, brown eyes. I fucked him against the wall in the concession stand,” Brian said, pausing to smirk. “When he came he screamed ‘touchdown.’”
Gus laughed. “Not very hygienic.”
Brian raised his eyebrow at his kid. “Wasn’t planning on eating anything from the stand, Sonny Boy.”
“And this is our English department. We offer a wide variety of classes-from Shakespeare to Joyce.”
“I came here to pick Mikey up from his little presentation for the Professor’s class. One of them…”
“One of them,” Gus gasped.
“One of them blew the guy that I was fucking.”
Gus shook his head and laughed as the woman in front of them turned to stare them down. The scandalized look on her face was priceless.
“And now, we’re coming up on our art building…some of the most promising and well known artists of the 20th century came through these very doors…”
Justin snorted audibly making the girl pause just long enough to loose her place in her well-practice script.
Gus buried his head in his hands, laughing. “Not in the doorway, Pops!”
Fighting a smirk, Justin shook his head. “The empty studio classroom we’re about to pass on the left.”
Grinning broadly, Gus threw over his shoulder, “I guess I’ll have to rechristen the place.”
The family barbecue was next. Filled with squalling children, happy hetero couples, greasy burgers, and all the other great things that made his dads twitchy, Gus sat at the table laughing silently.
They passed the hours of torment that was Family Night by mocking everything and everyone…and pointing out more conquests. The latter had gone on for nearly twenty minutes before Gus in his sleep deprived state finally started to catch on.
“Red head by the punch bowl. I pitched to his company a couple of years ago.”
Gus glanced across the way to the aforementioned guy who was kind of pathetic by his dads’ standards and back to the little smile Brian had. Between it and the nonchalant tone Justin offered when he replied, he finally figured it out.
“His kid is kind of scary looking. That stripped shirt makes him look like an inmate,” Justin replied, scrunching up his nose.
And yeah, Gus was thick sometimes.
Rolling his eyes, he motioned across the table and replied, “Blond you picked up under a streetlamp.” A beat. “And the only one that matters.”
And, if you're in the mood for more bad!crack!fic, be sure to chek out [.046 Star]. In the words of Charlie, it's like whoa. Lame.
The fluff! It burns!
fanfic100: 33/100 [Great Big Box of Everything]