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14 August 2008 - 14:38

3.44

My fingers buuuurrrnn!

Ouch.

We were outside pulling crab grass from the front lawn. Usually not a tedious sport, but considering the front lawn consists of nothing but crab grass... yeah, my fingers hurt. In fact, I got four blisters in the span of half an hour into the work, and two of them've popped. One of those two had the skin covering completely scraped off. Dirt n' sweat n' crab grass seeds (and maybe a few spider legs) made their way into the open wound and gave me hell there for a while. It still feels tender, and we haven't put anything on it because Piojo says there's no point in doing so if we've still gotta take a shower and the bandages will probably wash off. Pissin' fuck.

Speaking of pissin' fucks, there's the issue of Nacho we've been meaning to update about. Nacho, of course, being that coworker of ours we sometimes mention. The hypochondriac, melodramatic, hey-come-feel-sorry-for-my-drunk-man-whore-ass guy. He's probably the first person from work I've actually come to consider a friend. He knows my family and I (sorta) know his. I've met his dad, anyway. Nice old guy, real proud type (but not of his son). Anyway, BB went n' opened her big yap--

BB: Excuse me?

NINJA: Well, ya did.

BB: Ninja, we already went through this! We're not gonna go into this argument with you again!

NINJA: No one's arguin'! I'm jus' statin' facts. You went n' opened yer fat mouth n' told--

BB: You don't need to use that kind of language.

NINJA: What kinda language? Ain't it the truth?

BB: No! It didn't happen like that, and you know it!

NINJA: Didn' it? Get real, Beebsters, y'knew 'xactly what y're doin' at the time. None of this "I jus' blurted it out withou' thinkin'" gig, a'ight? Y'knew some of us wouldn' agree wit' it, knew that some of us would wanna keep our privacy, so, yeah, that constitutes as openin' yer big, fat, dumb-ass pie-hole n' runnin' yer mouth 'bout shit that weren't none of his goddamn business!

BB: But it wasn't just me, and you know that as well as the others! Besides, Mister Frontrunner, I didn't see you doing anything to stop me!

NINJA: *eyes narrowing* That pause of breath b'fore you said it? That hesitation righ' there? Where we almost lied? That was me tryin', bitch. Don't talk shit y' dont' know.

YANG: Easy, easy there, bro'. It doesn't matter who said what, or when, or who tried to stop it and who wasn't even there. We can't do anything to change the fact. And now Juan's delusional about being a system too.

NINJA (muttering): Motherfucker...

BB: What is it you've got against Nacho anyway?

POLLA (scoffs): Isn't obvious, B? María.

NINJA: Shut yer ass up, bitch, b'fore I smack you down.

POLLA: Hm, still touchy on it, I see.

YANG: Leave him alone, babe. We can't really blame him. I don't blame him. Can't trust anyone who trusts that fat whore.

BB: But Juan and Alex are not the same person. It's not like they're a system. They're, y'know, singletons. Outside Singletons, and we need to treat them as such. As individuals.

NINJA: That ain't my point. I ain't tellin' none a y'all t' not trust him or shit like that. It ain't it. All's I be sayin' is not this shit. Not us. Not 'bout us. Not givin' him out my fuckin' name, BB! I mean, shit! Why not give him yours instead, y' love his ass so much? Why expose me, n' Jack, n' then Piojo?! Whaddo you want him to do, kill us?!

YANG: Who? Nacho or Piojo?

NINJA: *grunt* Nacho couldn' stand five minutes 'gainst me, let alone the Protector. It was a stupid move, BB, is all I'm sayin'. The shoe fits, well then...

GRIZZLY: Sorry to break up the club meeting, people, but it's past three o'clock. We need to shower. Now. Don't forget we go in to work half an hour early today. We still need to feed your mutts too, B.

BB: *sigh* I'm just so tired of arguing already! You want an apology, then fine. "I'm sorry, Ninja, for telling Juan of our existance." Happy now? Just... drop it already. I can't go back and make it go away, or try and weasel out of it. We can't lie about ourself. That would be wrong.

NINJA: Fine. But you deal with whatever hypochondriac fictional system he comes up with in his dreams 'cause he "ate too many onions b'fore bed," got it? I don't want none of it, I don't wanna be involved. I'm tellin' ya right now: to me, he just another fuckin' coworker. I don't need no Outsider "friends," system or not.

POLLA: Tsk, tsk. You're one sad little man.

PIOJO: He is not. He is frontrunning, and that means taking care of all for the sake of all. He will not cater to your individual needs, nor should he.

BB: Sure, whatever.

GRIZZLY: Just go shower!

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