toasted!zine – episode seven : comiXtreme Idol

"Wait a second, wait a second!" Brandon yelled, "This wasn't part of the deal. You told me that if I won the game of 'Ankles', you'd get me a date with Meagan without me having to ask her."

"Exactly," Darren grinned, lounging upon his mattress, "I said that you wouldn't have to ask her out. I didn't say anything about you not writing a poem for her."

"But I can't write poems," Brandon muttered, "Why do I have to write a poem?"

"Because if you don't have a chance by winning her with the looks, you have to go with the emotional crap," Darren explained, "Chicks dig that stuff. And besides. You're uglier than chocolate pudding."

"Chocolate pudding?"

"Sorry. I'm a little hungry," Darren explained, "Got food on the brain."

"Great. Well, how about you get 'asking Meagan out for Brandon' on the brain for me while you grab yourself a Snack Pack from the fridge."

"Wish I could, buddy, but you aren't done that poem."

"I haven't even started your stupid poem," Brandon muttered, "I mean... what's the point? I don't do poems. Why would I want to make her think that I can do poems?"

"It's all about deception, my friend," Darren said, pushing himself up so that he could head towards the fridge, "It doesn't matter if you can actually do something. The only thing that matters is her thinking you can do something."

"Sounds like someone under performs with the ladies," Brandon muttered, grinning.

"Hey, I'm trying to help you," Darren defended, "Don't be cracking on me when I'm helping."

"Right," Brandon said, "I'll get right on that when I don't have to force you to actually help with the column we're supposed to work on this week. Or any week for that matter."

"Just get writing."

Brandon's pen neared the paper set before him. However, before he started to scratch out something 'somewhat meaningful', he paused.

"Hey, Darren... how many poems have you had to write?" Brandon asked sarcastically.

"One," Darren said, grinning as he opened a Snack Pack, "And it wasn't because I was too ugly to ask a girl out. See, I just wanted to play Backboard Bingo."

"Funny. Some people actually think there isn't something you'd do to get a girl in bed..."

"Those poor, deluded people. They'll never see how beautiful life can be."

"So. Did it work?"

"Sure," Darren said quickly, before sticking his finger in the pudding, "How's that poem coming buddy?"

"You didn't get any did you?"

"I don't believe you heard me," Darren said, sticking his pudding covered finger in his mouth, "I said, 'how's your poem coming buddy?'"

"It's not coming," Brandon told him, "Because obviously, if you can't write poems, it doesn't work!"

"Hey! Brando! Darren...o!" Scott Williams greeted as he entered the room, "What's going on here? Slumber party? You and Darren going to have a pillow fight and make out with each other?"

"Hey Scott," Darren grinned, extending a finger full of pudding, "Want some?"

"That is the most homosexual thing I have ever heard you say," Scott said, grinning.

"You know you want it..."

"So. Brando. What're you up to there? You look like you're concentrating pretty damn hard..."

"Darren's trying to make me write a poem for... uh... for..."

"Meagan, right?" Scott said.

"How did you know?"

"Oh, the whole office knows," Scott smiled, "You haven't exactly been subtle about you little crush, you know..."

Brandon's face grew slightly redder.

"Aaaaaanywho, I just popped in to ask what you were going to do for the 'comiXtreme Idol'," Scott said, "I can't think of a talent to use, so I've been asking around, looking for inspiration."

"Actually, we don't really know what we're doing either, Scott," Darren explained, "However, I've been going back and forth on this one idea... see... I go on stage... drop my pants, take a bow, and quickly shuffle off the stage. Your thoughts?"

"Amazingly disgusting," Scott said, quickly dismissing Darren, "Brandon. You got any idea what you're doing?"

"Actually," Brandon muttered, "Not really. I've been trying to think of something all week, and..."

"Well, if you're going to write that poem to Meagan, you might as well just recite it," Scott suggested, "She'll think it's a grand and romantic gesture."

"You think so?"

"You're damn rights I do," Scott said, "And if you don't mind, I could probably help you with that little poem of yours. Get you're lovelorn @$$ off of the pot, so to speak. Sound good?"

"Well, uh... sure," Brandon said, "I guess. If you want to that is..."

"Oh please," Darren sneered, "Like he knows any more about poetry than I do.

"Hey Scott. Try to come up with something more loving than this:

"You're like a box of multipack tampons.
There for me on my light days,
And my heavy days."

Scott and Brandon recoiled a bit. Neither spoke a word.

"See? He can't do any better," Darren said, "Forget him. I'm the one that'll bag you the girl."

"Yeah... uh... I'll talk to you later Scott," Brandon said.

"Sure thing," Scott said, "See you later Brando! Darren."

Darren's face scrunched up as Scott left.

"I don't trust that guy," he told Brandon, "He's up to something."

"He's trying to help me," Brandon said, "Unlike you. Tampons? It's no wonder the girl didn't sleep with you."

"Quiet you," Darren muttered, "So... we're still going to stick with our plan for comiXtreme Idol, right?"

"Well, yeah. I've only got three weeks left to get 600 hits on a column before I get fired, and I want to find where our web comic artist has been stashed so that we can suck in the people with pretty pictures."

"So, it's not just to stop the creepy random notes that get taped to our door?"

"Well, that's part of it. What was the last one again?"

"Little monkey boy is lost
Cry wee monkey cry
I need more marcaroni," Darren recited.

"Yeah... something like that," Brandon said absently, staring at the paper.

Darren took another finger full of pudding, ate it, and then squinted his eyes.

In the distance, he could see Scott talking with Meagan.

"Excuse me for a second," he muttered, walking out the door quickly, with bits of chocolate flying everywhere.

"Sure thing."

Darren ran up to the talking pair and began to yell at Scott, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Scott wiped a bit of chocolate pudding off of his face and calmly stated, "Can't I talk to one of the office's interns about work?"

"Scott, don't play dumb with me," Darren said, "I know you're up to something, and I don't like it."

"Well, I don't need to be a part of this conversation," Meagan muttered, quickly trying to make an exit.

"Oh no you don't," Darren warned, "You need to stay. You need to hear Scott tell you that it wasn't me delivering those... those 'Secret Admirer' notes. Because it wasn't me."

"Oh, and like you'd admit to it," Scott bristled, "Whether you were delivering the notes for yourself, or for your little buddy back there, you'd never say so in front of Meagan."

"Why are you lying, Scott?" Darren asked, "Got a crush on Meagan yourself? Are you just covering up your tracks?"

"If I had a secret crush on Meagan, I wouldn't be using petty, small lies to show her how much I like her," Scott retorted, "And I wouldn't offered to do what I did for Brandon either!"

"Who is sounding a little gay now, Scott?" Darren asked.

"See... this is just it. When people come close to actually pinning something on you, you make some snide comment like that or change the subject," Scott yelled, "I'm the one helping Brandon, not you. Or your tampons."

"Tampons?"

"Here, have the rest of this pudding and go," Darren said to her, holding out the half empty cup.

"Oh, so now Meagan gets to go when Darren starts to loose the war of words," Scott grinned.

"You know what, Scott? No matter how you twist this, I'm not letting you get away with... with... whatever you're trying to pull.

"I will get you Scott. I will."

To Be Continued