Note from Tabitha (which may be replaced by a disclaimer once AK gets back and reads it ^^;) - This fic is a "what-might-have-happened" bit of humor concerning timing of cosplay, which I can happily say DID NOT HAPPEN! Hah! Take that, anatomy. *blows raspberries*
Needless to say, the title indicates something rather tasteless. I, however, find it quite funny. Warnings for language and very extreme, frightening OOC. ^^ - Tabitha
by Anime Kitty
With a mumbled grunt, Sei-Lan shoved more ice cream
into his mouth. The cold, creamy feeling slid over
his tongue and throat soothingly, but did little to help
his actual pain. Cramps are murder.
And as misery loves company, beside him on couch sat
Marcel who was digging his own spoon into a tub of
cookie dough. Mouth still half full, he turned to
"What?" he almost barked back.
"Can we watch a movie? Like 'How Stella Got Her Groove
Back'? I need a chick flick." He almost whined, a
side-effect of waiting for the Midol to kick in.
Sei-Lan gave him a disgruntled glare, "Hell no. Dude,
the last thing I want to watch when I'm ragging is
something fluffy. I want to watch 'Blade Runner.'"
"Awwwww... Sei-chan, you're mean!" Marcel pouted,
violet eyes watering.
Still wearing a scowl, he replied, "I'm mean? Tell
that to Mother-Fucking-Nature. I spent last week
PMSing and now I'm DMSing."
Crestfallen, the blonde returned to his snack. "Come
on, man. I even let you borrow a pair of sweatpants."
Sei-Lan muttered something under his breath and gained
a chokehold on the remote. He flipped though the
channels aimlessly before settling on some cartoon.
"There. A happy medium."
Marcel felt a little better but incomplete. "I haven't
watched cartoons sober in the longest time... Hey,
those guys sound like their constipated." He giggled
Slowly a tiny smile peeked out, "Yah, they do... are
they gonna fight or just keep taunting each other?"
"I dunno, man, but that guy with the sword kinda looks
like you. Only beefed up and stuff."
His eyes screwed up as he compared himself to the
figure on the screen, "I guess... Hey, I think that
Pickle guy is gonna kick some ass..."
"I thought it was Piccolo." Marcel spoke through the
"Nah. That's a pussy name. That guy isn't a pussy." He
shook his head, violet locks failing back and forth.
"Yah, you know all about pussy names..."
The scowl returned with a vengeance, "What's that
supposed to mean,
"Hey! Just 'cause my name isn't tough doesn't mean I
canít take you!" Marcel stood up, trying to look like
road-hardened biker but only managing the type of tough
one sees in an angry rabbit.
"You really want a piece of me?" Sei-Lan got up as
well, making sure to place his ice cream down
Suddenly, both of them felt their cramps return to
kick both their scrawny, pale asses. Moaning they both
sat back down on the couch and returned to food and
"So," Marcel began sheepishly, "we still buds?"
Sei-Lan rolled his eyes, "Only if you give me some
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