more Bruno in the next bit, I promise
Feb. 23rd, 2007 01:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fenellaI was so excited by the Oiler's 4-0 shutout last night that I thought I'd better write this before they lose to Detroit tonight. Hee. I had fun with this part.
No Tomorrow
Chp 2 – Rookie Year “Introducing Vladi Boy”
“I can’t do this,” moaned Boots.
“Sure you can, son,” panted Arthur. “Only one more flight of stairs – 417 was it?”
“No, not that,” answered Boots, hauling his suitcase up another few steps. “I mean, I’ve shared a room with Bruno for seven years. What if I’m some sort of freak with weird habits and Bruno never told me, because he was too used to them?”
“Your name is Melvin,” called Edward from the top of the third landing. “You’re Canadian, and you attended an all-boys boarding school. It’s safe to say that you’re most certainly a freak.”
“You’re just bitter,” answered Boots. “Because you got stuck carrying the bookshelf and the potted fern.”
“Ah, the potted fern,” sighed Edward while readjusting his grip on the bookshelf. “The single most important accessory for every young, healthy male to have in his college dormitory. Not at all the mark of a serial killer, or say, a freak who spent his youth locked up in some weird institution of homoerotic-”
“Oh my god, shut up!” said Boots, wondering if he could somehow push Edward down the stairs without harming his fern. “It was from Elmer.”
Edward coughed meaningfully.
“I think it was a very thoughtful gift, dear,” said a talking lamp that might have been Margaret O’Neal. “And you don’t have a thing to worry about; you’re such a nice boy.”
Boots rolled his eyes, yanking the door to the fourth floor open and holding it open for his parents. “Yeah, and everyone knows that the nice guy finishes last.”
“College,” began Edward in his most sarcastic voice, “Is a time to reinvent yourself.” He paused to consider. “You could become a grade A jerk if you wanted, and hey, it wouldn’t take too much effort.”
“Huh,” said Boots, tilting his head. “You know what Eddie, that’s actually good advice. I think I’ll start right now.”
Boots pulled his suitcase through the door, letting it slam shut in front of Edward.
“Melvin!” whined Edward, through the small glass rectangle. “Help! Melvin, I’ll drop your fern, Melvin!”
“Oh,” said Boots loudly. “Are we threatening each other now? Because I might just give the Fish a friendly call. I’d be sure to mention that you were the one who set the kitchens on fire last year.”
There was a pause from the other side of the door and then Edward laughed. “You have the Fish on speed-dial?”
*
“Here we are,” said Mr. O’Neal.
The family was gathered in front of the door to room 417. There were two fish-shaped pieces of construction paper, each with a name.
“Oh no.” said, Boots unsticking the “Melvin” fish. “It’s started. Everyone will know that I’m Melvin.”
“That is your name, dear,” said Margaret.
“It’s true Mom,” said Edward helpfully. “No one likes a Melvin.”
“Maybe your roommate isn’t here yet,” said Arthur, who had never really liked Margaret's uncle Melvin. “You did get here a week early for swimming. Maybe no one will see it.”
“Do you hear something?” asked Margaret, frowning.
Boots dug out a pen from the box that Arthur had been carrying and wrote “BOOTS” on the reverse side of the Melvin fish. He switched the sticky tape and restuck the fish to the door.
“There’s something fishy about that fish, son,” said Arthur, clearly amused.
The rest of the family ignored him.
“Vladmir,” Edward said, reading the other fish. “Vlad-a-meer. Vlaaady. I’m sorry, Melvin, but your roommate is a seventy year-old Russian who’s been into the missus’s vodka.”
“Who’s been into the vodka?” asked Boots, opening the door to reveal that his roommate had, in fact, already moved in.
*
A well built boy sat on one of the beds, hunched over a guitar and singing to himself. “I’m bringing sexy baaaack, those other boys don’t know how to aaaact.”
Boots blinked. “Vladmir?”
Vladmir started, smiling in surprise, a perfect, even smile against his dark tan. “Vladi,” he said in a thick accent. “You are Melvin?”
“Boots, actually,” said Boots. “Vladi, are you… are you Vladmir Nadzhakoff?”
Vladi continued to smile, and Edward moved the sunglasses from the top of his head to shield his eyes from the glare. “Yes, we meet before?” asked Vladi.
“No, no,” said Boots. “I watched you at the worlds, on teevee I mean; your 800 fly, that was incredible!”
Vladi shrugged modestly. “Was okay. Was awarded silver only. You swimmer too?”
Boots nodded, “Yeah I am, but not like you.” And then he turned to his parents, “Mom, Dad, this is Vladmir Nadzhakoff, the Bulgarian swimmer. Everyone’s saying that he’s the next big thing.”
Margaret turned to Vladi and smiled warmly. “You’re parents must be so proud of you.”
“Oh no,” said Vladi honestly and just a little sadly, but still smiling. “They wanted me to be footballer.”
Vladi caught sight of the large Canadian Flag at the top of the box that Arthur had been carrying, Bruno’s parting gift.
“You are Canadian, Boots?” he asked.
“Mm,” said Boots, bracing himself. “Yeah, I am.”
“Vladi is Bulgarian,” said Vladi proudly.
Boots had to laugh. “Yeah, I know.”
Just then, five similar looking jocks that might have been poster boys for Abercrombie & Fitch burst in through the door of room 417, joking and laughing. Each was carrying two large cases of beer.
“Oh my,” said Margaret faintly.
“Hey Vladi,” said one of the boys. “We’re having a party over at the lodge tonight.”
“Lodge?” asked Arthur.
Another one of the poster boys looked Arthur up and down, a little surprised that someone would need to ask such a question, and then nodded. “Frat house, man.”
“Is this Melvin?” asked a third.
“Boots,” said Vladi. “Boots comes from Canada, he’s new recruit too.”
The five boys all stared at Boots for a moment, sizing him up. Finally one with a shirt proclaiming that ‘If the world were an oven, I’d still be the hottest guy around’ said “Canada? So, are you jet lagged and stuff?”
“Actually, we drove,” said Boots.
“Drove?” asked the same guy. “How did you cross the ocean?”
“Oh my,” said Margaret.
“Dude,” said another frat boy, smacking the one with the oven shirt in the head, “It’s not polite ask.”
At the same time another said, “You guys are such asses. The ocean’s obviously frozen up there.”
A look of understanding dawned on the first’s face and he rubbed his stubbled chin. “That’s awesome, like skidooing and shit. You Canadians are pretty tricky.”
“Well,” said Edward modestly, “We try.”
“So,” said one of the boys who hadn’t spoken yet, having clearly given this a lot of thought. “If you’re Canadian, you like beer, right?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” said Boots, too stunned to form a coherent sentence.
“Cool,” said the frat boys, not quite in unison.
“You should come tonight, if you have time,” said one, as they turned to leave. “Ten o’clock,” added another.
“Wow,” said Edward, breaking the stunned silence that had followed the boys departure. “I thought parents made up guys like those to scare their children into good behaviour. Like the the Easter Bunny.”
Boots gave Edward an odd look.
“Funny guys,” said Vladi, shaking his head, a large lopsided grin on his features. “America is funny place.”
One of the jocks poked his head back inside the room. “Oh yeah, Boots, I just wanted to remind you that’s American ten o’clock, not Canadian.”
“Th… thanks,” stammered Boots.
The guy gave him thumbs up before taking off down the hall.
“Oh my,” said Margaret.
*
No Tomorrow
Chp 2 – Rookie Year “Introducing Vladi Boy”
“I can’t do this,” moaned Boots.
“Sure you can, son,” panted Arthur. “Only one more flight of stairs – 417 was it?”
“No, not that,” answered Boots, hauling his suitcase up another few steps. “I mean, I’ve shared a room with Bruno for seven years. What if I’m some sort of freak with weird habits and Bruno never told me, because he was too used to them?”
“Your name is Melvin,” called Edward from the top of the third landing. “You’re Canadian, and you attended an all-boys boarding school. It’s safe to say that you’re most certainly a freak.”
“You’re just bitter,” answered Boots. “Because you got stuck carrying the bookshelf and the potted fern.”
“Ah, the potted fern,” sighed Edward while readjusting his grip on the bookshelf. “The single most important accessory for every young, healthy male to have in his college dormitory. Not at all the mark of a serial killer, or say, a freak who spent his youth locked up in some weird institution of homoerotic-”
“Oh my god, shut up!” said Boots, wondering if he could somehow push Edward down the stairs without harming his fern. “It was from Elmer.”
Edward coughed meaningfully.
“I think it was a very thoughtful gift, dear,” said a talking lamp that might have been Margaret O’Neal. “And you don’t have a thing to worry about; you’re such a nice boy.”
Boots rolled his eyes, yanking the door to the fourth floor open and holding it open for his parents. “Yeah, and everyone knows that the nice guy finishes last.”
“College,” began Edward in his most sarcastic voice, “Is a time to reinvent yourself.” He paused to consider. “You could become a grade A jerk if you wanted, and hey, it wouldn’t take too much effort.”
“Huh,” said Boots, tilting his head. “You know what Eddie, that’s actually good advice. I think I’ll start right now.”
Boots pulled his suitcase through the door, letting it slam shut in front of Edward.
“Melvin!” whined Edward, through the small glass rectangle. “Help! Melvin, I’ll drop your fern, Melvin!”
“Oh,” said Boots loudly. “Are we threatening each other now? Because I might just give the Fish a friendly call. I’d be sure to mention that you were the one who set the kitchens on fire last year.”
There was a pause from the other side of the door and then Edward laughed. “You have the Fish on speed-dial?”
*
“Here we are,” said Mr. O’Neal.
The family was gathered in front of the door to room 417. There were two fish-shaped pieces of construction paper, each with a name.
“Oh no.” said, Boots unsticking the “Melvin” fish. “It’s started. Everyone will know that I’m Melvin.”
“That is your name, dear,” said Margaret.
“It’s true Mom,” said Edward helpfully. “No one likes a Melvin.”
“Maybe your roommate isn’t here yet,” said Arthur, who had never really liked Margaret's uncle Melvin. “You did get here a week early for swimming. Maybe no one will see it.”
“Do you hear something?” asked Margaret, frowning.
Boots dug out a pen from the box that Arthur had been carrying and wrote “BOOTS” on the reverse side of the Melvin fish. He switched the sticky tape and restuck the fish to the door.
“There’s something fishy about that fish, son,” said Arthur, clearly amused.
The rest of the family ignored him.
“Vladmir,” Edward said, reading the other fish. “Vlad-a-meer. Vlaaady. I’m sorry, Melvin, but your roommate is a seventy year-old Russian who’s been into the missus’s vodka.”
“Who’s been into the vodka?” asked Boots, opening the door to reveal that his roommate had, in fact, already moved in.
*
A well built boy sat on one of the beds, hunched over a guitar and singing to himself. “I’m bringing sexy baaaack, those other boys don’t know how to aaaact.”
Boots blinked. “Vladmir?”
Vladmir started, smiling in surprise, a perfect, even smile against his dark tan. “Vladi,” he said in a thick accent. “You are Melvin?”
“Boots, actually,” said Boots. “Vladi, are you… are you Vladmir Nadzhakoff?”
Vladi continued to smile, and Edward moved the sunglasses from the top of his head to shield his eyes from the glare. “Yes, we meet before?” asked Vladi.
“No, no,” said Boots. “I watched you at the worlds, on teevee I mean; your 800 fly, that was incredible!”
Vladi shrugged modestly. “Was okay. Was awarded silver only. You swimmer too?”
Boots nodded, “Yeah I am, but not like you.” And then he turned to his parents, “Mom, Dad, this is Vladmir Nadzhakoff, the Bulgarian swimmer. Everyone’s saying that he’s the next big thing.”
Margaret turned to Vladi and smiled warmly. “You’re parents must be so proud of you.”
“Oh no,” said Vladi honestly and just a little sadly, but still smiling. “They wanted me to be footballer.”
Vladi caught sight of the large Canadian Flag at the top of the box that Arthur had been carrying, Bruno’s parting gift.
“You are Canadian, Boots?” he asked.
“Mm,” said Boots, bracing himself. “Yeah, I am.”
“Vladi is Bulgarian,” said Vladi proudly.
Boots had to laugh. “Yeah, I know.”
Just then, five similar looking jocks that might have been poster boys for Abercrombie & Fitch burst in through the door of room 417, joking and laughing. Each was carrying two large cases of beer.
“Oh my,” said Margaret faintly.
“Hey Vladi,” said one of the boys. “We’re having a party over at the lodge tonight.”
“Lodge?” asked Arthur.
Another one of the poster boys looked Arthur up and down, a little surprised that someone would need to ask such a question, and then nodded. “Frat house, man.”
“Is this Melvin?” asked a third.
“Boots,” said Vladi. “Boots comes from Canada, he’s new recruit too.”
The five boys all stared at Boots for a moment, sizing him up. Finally one with a shirt proclaiming that ‘If the world were an oven, I’d still be the hottest guy around’ said “Canada? So, are you jet lagged and stuff?”
“Actually, we drove,” said Boots.
“Drove?” asked the same guy. “How did you cross the ocean?”
“Oh my,” said Margaret.
“Dude,” said another frat boy, smacking the one with the oven shirt in the head, “It’s not polite ask.”
At the same time another said, “You guys are such asses. The ocean’s obviously frozen up there.”
A look of understanding dawned on the first’s face and he rubbed his stubbled chin. “That’s awesome, like skidooing and shit. You Canadians are pretty tricky.”
“Well,” said Edward modestly, “We try.”
“So,” said one of the boys who hadn’t spoken yet, having clearly given this a lot of thought. “If you’re Canadian, you like beer, right?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” said Boots, too stunned to form a coherent sentence.
“Cool,” said the frat boys, not quite in unison.
“You should come tonight, if you have time,” said one, as they turned to leave. “Ten o’clock,” added another.
“Wow,” said Edward, breaking the stunned silence that had followed the boys departure. “I thought parents made up guys like those to scare their children into good behaviour. Like the the Easter Bunny.”
Boots gave Edward an odd look.
“Funny guys,” said Vladi, shaking his head, a large lopsided grin on his features. “America is funny place.”
One of the jocks poked his head back inside the room. “Oh yeah, Boots, I just wanted to remind you that’s American ten o’clock, not Canadian.”
“Th… thanks,” stammered Boots.
The guy gave him thumbs up before taking off down the hall.
“Oh my,” said Margaret.
*
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no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 07:56 pm (UTC)P.S. These jocks are not to be believed.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 04:37 am (UTC)