Survival Of The Fittest

((Brendan Harte continued from Mass Destruction))

Brendan didn't know why he was passing through the skate park. He never really walked through it before. He guessed that it would be a new route for him to take to go home. He had been to the book store to collect some books to read and to help him come up with more ideas for the plot of a story he could write. He was glad that they had still been there and he had grabbed them quickly in his excitement. Thinking back to it, he now felt a bit embarrassed about his behaviour. But he couldn't have helped it. He was a book lover at heart. Books inspired him. Books excited him. Books scared him. He could go on about them for hours on end.

He gazed down at the plastic bag that he was carrying in his hand and he smiled warmly. He was in a good mood for that night and for over the weekend. He still felt strange with wandering through the skate park. However, he was relieved that there were not that many people here. Now he was just hoping that the 'classical bump' wasn't going to happen there. Like with Alba before.

Brendan glanced around and he noticed that the few skaters were mostly talking to each other. He let out a small sigh of relief. Then he took a step forward to leave.

((Darius Van Dyke continued from Can't Get A Break))

A green-haired dude sat on a bench with a smoke behind his ear and an opened pepsi he had from the vending machine. He sticked his pinky in the ear, pulled it out after not having been successful at digging anything out and wondered when he should pierce his ear, if he even would do it and whether it's not just a waste of money he did not have.

Darius yawned and watched how skaters skated or talked, and oh.

A familiar face from his retarded school appeared, so he raised his hand wavingly at him.

"Brendan!"

Oh, Brendan. There's so much wrong with Brendan.

Brendan stopped walking as he heard someone call out his name. He felt a little startled at first. He turned around to the direction where he had heard the voice from and he saw that it had been Darius who spoke to him. Darius was one of those people that Brendan would normally try to avoid at school. Mainly because he hanged out with Michael Crowe. Who Brendan really didn't like. Brendan could just walk away at that moment. However, since they went to the same school....

Brendan gave Darius a slightly hesitant wave back. What was he doing? He should just be heading home to enjoy some time alone to read his new books that he brought. But he just had to stop and be polite. To Darius. Of course. That made sense. Not really.

"U....Um..... Hi, Darius...?" His voice was very quiet and he wasn't sure if Darius had heard him. But Brendan just wanted to get away quickly. So he wanted to try to do it in a polite manner before he could leave. Which he hoped was going to be soon.

((Michael Crowe continued from Screamer, Screamer, He's a Dreamer ))

Michael hated cellphones with a passion. For an invention that has improved technology greatly, it's bastard son is fucking worthless. Like comparing a hard working buisness ceo to his worthless 30+ year old stay at home kid. You call someone, someone else is already talking to them, or their phone's off. Nobody wants to call, that's inconvenient, but typing full fledged messages out filled to the brim with three or four letter acronyms? Apparently that is convenient. On the rare occasion that someone calls you, your phone's either dead, or it's a fucking telemarketer. Duhh helow wuld yu like to sampool sum naturaw maw enlurgemint pillz! Michael didn't need some jagoff on the phone telling him his Johnson was little, let alone someone who can't even speak American well enough to say it in a way that's not more broken than Steven Seagal's acting career. Not like his little Richard was that little or anything... He wasn't well endowed to be quite honest, but fuck at least he didn't suffer from micropenis. He wasn't ashamed of being an inch or so under the average.

Still point at hand, cellphones are garbage. He wanted to see if Jonathan was open to do anything after work, but Michael's phone died shortly after leaving school. Guess he should have charged it. Fuck it, Michael liked talking to people in person anyways. Talking in person was nice. He figured he'd cut through the skate park. Maybe he'd find someone else to talk to on the way there. He had all day to get there to be honest. He was sure Jonathan didn't get off of work for at least three more hours. Still, he should have charged his phone once he got home. He couldn't blame the cellphone on this one. Still, that's basically a 1-100, the cellphone was still winning in terms of fail counts.

Well, there's two people he knew a little ways down. There's good buddy Darius, and... oh, Brendan. Speaking of problems involving cellphones. With people so used to talking to words on a screen, they forget how to act normal in normal civilization. Case in point, Darius waving to him like a good samaritain. How does Brendan reply to this act of kindness? Not even replying back with a hello, or good day, Brendan was just barely flopping his limp noodlefuck arm up as if to say I acknowledge you, but you're not worth my time. That wasn't very nice. Well, if anything Michael could do something about it. He was great at turning the socially awkward into people you, uhhh fuck what's the word? Non-socially awkward people...? Michael didn't know what fucking word it is to use when describing non-socially stunted individuals. Fuck it, the point he was trying to make is he should be a Drill Sergeant or something. Like the guy in Full Metal Jacket. Wait no, not that guy he died. Fuck, well maybe a little bit like him, he was pretty cool.

Michael had managed to catch up to Brendan, placing a hand on his shoulder. Brendan turned to face him. Michael simply gave his rehearsed shit-eating grin and asked, nay, told him "Hey buddy, you're gonna say hi back right? Kinda' fuckin' rude to jus' brush him off like that..." His gaze shifted to Darius, whom he gave a quick nod. I got your back homeboy!

The brown-haired biker unexpectedly came to the scene to teach Brendan a lesson for just mumbling something to Darius, he could not hear. Damn it, Brendan, you're fired. Did Brendan forget his script? Was his mic broken? Good thing director Michael would teach him how to properly speak to people.

"Yeah, let him have it!", Darius said with a big fat grin. Audible. Not Brendan-style.

Darius remained sitting on the coach, drinking out of the can. He left his popcorn on the couch rest and it was too far away for him to grab it, so he just stared with tension at what was going to happen in the next episode of Michael's magnificant madventure.

Whoo boy. Cochise was Darius' personal television.

Brendan didn't suspect to see that Michael was right behind him. What was he saying? Brendan's voice must have really been too quiet for Darius to hear. He really didn't want Michael to start anything right now. Brendan had just wanted to say a quick hello and then a goodbye. Then he would have heading off home with no problems. He really should have taken a different route. This had been a big mistake. Michael really did scare Brendan a little. It didn't help that Michael was up really close to his face with a slightly creepy grin on his own. Brendan really wanted to leave this territory fast.

"I....I'm sorry....." Brendan was still speaking in a quiet voice as his hand was gripping more tightly around the handle of his plastic bag and his eyes were now focused down to the ground. He felt like he was getting scolded by a parent for doing something bad. "I..... Um.... I guess I didn't say hi loud enough...."

Brendan really didn't want to look at Michael as he knew that Michael would possibly still be on his case. Brendan covered his mouth and he let out a small cough. He had been getting a sore throat lately. He should have brought some cough sweets. But he couldn't really think about that right now. He was stuck talking to a guy who he was actually afraid of.

"Wha... Why da' hell are you apologizing to me?!" Really? Fucking Really?! Michael's smile fell, as he felt himself pinching his brow.  Okay, so this is new. Michael had simply tried to help some poor soul into saying the customary greeting of normal human beings, simply because he did it wrong towards another individual. Yet Brendan has to apologize to him. What the fuck? This hasn't even started yet, and already it's a disaster. Ah well, at least he wasn't too difficult to work with. No fuck yous or who do you think you're talking to bullshit, like some of the other punks around here. At least he could work with this. Wouldn't be too difficult.

Michael simply faced Brendan in Darius' direction, pointing at him. His grin came back. "See him? If  you're gonna apologize to anyone, apologize to him."  At least that'd be a step in the right direction.

Ah well, at least he did know he was in the wrong on that one. We're almost half-way there to making a better adjusted person for society! Now all we gotta do is help him learn how to say 'hi' and 'bye' properly...

"No use, Michael. I am going to decline the apology."

Darius crossed his arms and looked disapprovingly at Brendan.

lel.

An accepted apology would lead to nothing interesting.

"Why are you always so rude, Brendan? Can't you be just nice, like Michael here?"

Brendan blinked. Ah, right. He should have apologized to Darius. But he had been trying to just take a different path home. He didn't want to be caught in a argument with these two. What would his family think if he got messed up in bad company? They would be very disappointed in him. He gazed over to where Darius was. He should just say something and then get out of there quickly. As long as Micheal wouldn't hold him back afterwards.

"Oh.... I didn't mean to be rude or anything. I just wanted to be on my way... and.... um... go home." Brendan was now speaking a little louder, although his voice was a bit croaky and he cleared his throat. Michael was nice, huh? Brendan didn't want to comment on that as he glanced back at Michael nervously and then back at Darius. "Uh...."

Brendan apologized and Darius didn't accept. Well... Ain't that a damn shame. Michael almost felt bad for this. Almost. "Well shit..." Michael's smile grew. This was the fun part, the waiting. The tension was the always the best part, and like a fine wine, you had to savor that shit.  Much like the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, Michael switched his stare between Brendan and Darius, sporting a pretty good Eastwood squint whilst doing so.  And like many westerns, the first shot was quick and merciless.




"Guess we're gonna have to kick your ass then."


....




Michael's grin came back. "Just kidding."

Michael placed his hand on Brendan's shoulder, laughing. He'd take a moment to lower the tension, to let Brendan get his guard down. Just a few moments before cranking it back up into eleven. That's when he became stone-faced. "But in all fucking seriousness though, when people greet you, fucking wave back. Shit's rude as shit."

Michael turned towards Darius and began walking his direction, his lips curled underneath each other in an attempt to not break out laughing. He wasn't going to hit Brendan over little shit like not waving. What's the point in that? It's not fun, there's no challenge to it.  Besides scaring him worked out great, you got your jollies, he learned a life lesson. Benefit for everyone! It's kid's shit man, a little fucking around couldn't kill anyone. Besides, some people around here need to man up anyways. If harmless fuckery scared someone into becoming a recluse, then how the fuck would they function at anything else?

Everyone needed a bit of challenge to get the blood boiling, you know? Get that adrenaline up. Get hyped. Get alive man! Otherwise life's just boring man. If they couldn't handle some 5'8 jagoff with a bad haircut and terrible fashion sense, how in the hell were they gonna handle a job. Michael'd guarantee their boss would be even shorter with an even worse haircut. Michael awaited Darius' response to his showmanship. Hopefully he didn't disappoint.

"Oh yeah. Going home is the best excuse for not greeting people. I see."

Darius attempted to look very confused by that statement by raising his eyebrows.

When Michael threatened with violence, however, Darius truly was confused this time, raising his eyebrows for real. Was Michael gonna do it? Was he? Punch him, kick him, give him punches?

Oh, no. He wasn't. He was just fucking with Brendan.

Well, no violence. Lucky Brendan.

"Well...what's there to add? Sucks to be a rude moron. Sucks to suck."

Darius waved his left hand in front of Brendan and spoke in a deep, slow, Patrick-voice.

"Hellooo, Daaariuuus."

Okay, this was silly. This was a really silly reason to mock Brendan. But that made everything just funnier. He switched his hands.

"Heeelloooo, Brenden."

He stopped the waving.

"That's it. That's what people do in Kingman. Easy, no?"

Brendan didn't know how to react when Michael had just scared him. He was more speechless than before. He felt lucky that Michael hadn't knocked his lights out. He heard about Michael getting into fights and they weren't pretty apparentally. Well, fights weren't pretty in general. Brendan's heart was still pounding like crazy as he had been freaked out too easily and he kind of felt embarrassed about it. He wished that he wasn't too easy to scare sometimes.

Darius was speaking to him again. Mocking him was more right to say. Brendan was actually getting a bit sick of it. He was fine with people joking with him in a teasing way. Especially if they were friends. But he and Darius were not friends at all. He shouldn't have tolerated it.

"Actually, I do have something to say to you...." Brendan spoke more clearly even with a croaky voice and he gave Darius a quick wave, having a forceful smile on his voice. "Goodbye, Van Dyke. Goodbye, Crowe."

With those bitter-sounding words spoken; Brendan turned his back to the both of them and he walked away at a faster pace. He really couldn't wait to get home when he felt like he was more safe.

((Brendan Harte continued elsewhere))

"Haha-Hey! We got you to speak up didn't we?!" It was a victory for Michael and Darius, that much was sure. They did get him to say hi and bye, after all. Brendan could get as pissy as he wants about it, Michael's tactic worked. All it takes is a little leverage, and boom, job is done.

With Brendan gone, Michael could now focus at the task at hand. Wait, what was the task at hand in the first place? Jonathan still wouldn't be out for another half-hour more than likely. He had time to kill though, so he might as well see what Darius was up to. Well, y'know, outside of dicking with people.

" 'Ey Dee." Might as well start a conversation, relax a bit. He sat down beside Darius, sliding his hand into his pocket. "That was some funny shit man, fuck, you see the look on his face right?" Michael laughed as he pulled his comb out from his pocket. "Brendan looked like he was gonna shit his pants, heha!"  Michael continued to maintain his Val Kilmer mane as he watched Brendan speed-walk away. "Poor bastard..." Michael chuckled as he slid his comb back into his pocket, shaking his head.

He turned to Darius. "So uhhh, anythin' goin' on right now?"

Darius joined Mike's laughter.

"Maybe he already shat his pants and that's why he has to go. Heh."

Aw, come on. Brendan leaving? That sucked. Darius had an idea, a genius plan. But Brendan just left. What a jerk. Kinda annoyed he took yet another sip of his can.

And then the can was empty, so he placed it on the bench, so he could further reply to Mike.

"Not yet", he started, putting in a break to take his cigarette from his ear and light it with the lighter in his pocket.

"Co-"

Nah, Darius was not going to make a shitty, random The Doors reference.

"Just taking a break from the exhausting day."

He exhaled the smoke into the air and it disappeared like his plan to tell Brendan the tragic backstory of how people who did not greet changed his life into a worse one. People who do not greet have bringed shame upon the Van Dyke family. It was the downfall of a big dynasty. It was something that hurt Darius deep inside. Or something like that. He could have improvised some bullshit. But if he can't fuck with Brendan, he can fuck with Michael, probably. It wouldn't be as funny as trolling Brendan, because Mike is not as dumb as him, but if he's already in the mood to troll? Worth a try.

"Today, Ben gave me a wedgie."

Darius tried to not smirk. Do not laugh, do not smirk. Stare into the abyss. Look as if it was a serious matter. Mo-no-tone pro-nun-ci-a-tion.

"It hurt."

"Ben?" Ooooh shit, the plot just thickened. " Ben 'Electra Complex' Fields?" Darius was definitely bullshitting, but it'd be fun to humor him a bit, just to see what he has to say. "What the fuck is this? Some sort of cheap 90's nickelodeon sitcom?" Of all things, a wedgie? Who the fuck does that anymore?

Darius must've been huffing paint  or jenkem again or some shit. Michael  actually took a quick sniff to see if he smelled acrylic paint or recreational drugs floating around the two. All he could smell was nicotine and cancer, as of right now. Though nothing covers up any scent more than cigarette smoke, so he'd probably have to wait a bit just to see if it changes. He made a mental note of if he smelled bullshit or not, it was either Darius' story or the jenkem he theoretically inhaled. I mean, if he wanted it to be believable, he'd have probably picked anything other than a wedgie.

"You're telling me that Ben reeled your ass like that Spongebob hook episode shit?"  Michael took a quick laugh before putting on a cheap Mr. Krabs impersonation. "Yo ho yo ho, near the hooks we'll never go!" Okay, it was harder to humor Darius than he thought, but damn, he was asking for it worse than wearing a fur coat down a dark alley.

I mean really? It was almost an insult to Michael's intelligence. Darius' story implied Michael had an IQ in the double, nay, single digits. It's on the borderline of warranting a dick-punch.  Not like a massive ball breaker, just a quick shot strong enough to make him gasp or squeak or some shit. I mean, Ben Give me a faggot and I'll lynch the maggot Fields? The idea of him getting close enough to touch a guy's rear end is already preposterous, let alone actually grabbing their underwear.

"Could I give you some advice, Darius?" Michael reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his Rayban Wayfarers and placing them over his face. He'd only pull out the old Blue's Brother's sunglasses on special occasions, and he'd figure this would be one. "If you ever want to be a conman, just remember..." Michael stretched his legs out on the bench, crossing his ankles, as he rested his hands behind his head, in the what could be the most campy 1980's Tony Montana cartel boss fashion possible. "You. Can't. Con. A conman." His grin widened. He couldn't take this seriously, so he might as well not act it either.