72Everything That Makes Me Sick
Chapter Five: Meeting the Sandy-Candy Man
While your stupid ass was away, Mr. Swag brought his boys with him and stood outside my dingy little house, waiting for me to come out. They chanted "kill the home-wrecker, kill the home-wrecker" for about an hour before I came out and told them to shut the fuck up, in the name of their Swag-God, and had to face thirty fists and a dick in my face.
I didn't put it in my mouth, mind you. I'd take a bullet to the anus before I let fifty wannabe mulatto mobsters shove a dick in my mouth. Maybe in my ear or something. But not my mouth.
Just saying.
And honestly, I think it's effing ridiculous that that asshole Kiba considers me a home-wrecker; that insult should only be used by women, for women, since they're the only one's who'd ever care about the condition of a stupid house in a situation like…whatever it was that happened in the library two days ago.
That's right, two days ago. I skipped school yesterday. Not because Kiba and his second-best swag crew beat me up; I just needed a time to myself. I needed time to think about how you fucking abandoned me and left me to fend for myself while I was practically gang-banged (not that I needed your help anyway), and about what I'm gonna do about the plan.
You remember the plan, right? Recruit Candy-hair, force him to help me take out all the rotten bastards, audaciously under the pseudonym of teachers, and show everyone once and for all that no one messes with me, or any innocent citizen forced into the education system.
My plan went to shit because Kiba, the swagtastic shit stain blew it up in my face with his gangbangery, but it will be different today. Why? Because I'm not starting school at 7:50 like those bastards require us to (I barely go to my first period classes anyway); I'm starting at 11:25—lunch time. I'm not sure if Candy-hair'll be there, but I'm gonna snuff him out until I find him, and when I do, he's going to have no choice but to confess Orochimaru's, and any other teacher's sins against him and join me in my quest to fuck shit up.
The three bowls of noodles I ate just a few minutes are sloshing in my stomach as I jog to school. Why jogging, you ask? Because someone once told me if you jump around right after you eat, you'll get sick and want to vomit. I'm not about to stick a finger down my throat, but if I irritate my inner bowels a bit, I'll look sick when I get to school, which will brilliantly explain why I'm late, and why I missed a day yesterday.
Can anyone tell me why schools made up this whole "Doctor's Note" bullshit? Why the hell do I need a doctor's note to validate missing a day of school? You don't need to go to an effing doctor if you're sick. The cure for all sickness is sleep and T.V. No one needs a fucking doctor's note to get permission to sleep and watch T.V. Getting sick is your body's way of telling you that you need an extra day of a weekend, because school contains too much bullshit for you to quite make it back yet. No one needs a doctor's note for that. But since the school system says you so, I've made up my own doctor's note: if they say I'm gonna be punished for missing yet another day of school, I'm gonna vomit in their face. Simple, sane solution. There I go with those damned alliterations again.
School is up ahead, and I know I've missed the initial lunch bell because there are people crowded outside, walking around the yard, or getting as far as they off the school property before the hired school officials can tell them to get the hell back on school premises.
I don't want to look through this crowd of people yet; because I know a lot of students actually have to get lunch from the lunchroom before they can come out here. The ones already outside are the anorexic pussies who eat cigarettes for every meal, or the lucky ones who have home-made lunches. I don't take Candy-hair for being an anorexic poundphobic bitch, and he looks too pathetic to have people at home who actually make lunches for him.
So I'm headed to the lunchroom. I keep an eye out for Mr. Wish-I-Had-Swagger-So-I-Say-Swag-at-the-End-of-Each-Sentence-to-Validate-My-Swagless-Existence because I really don't feel like holding a towel to my bloody nose for an hour. People stare at me as I walk down the hallway, and not with a "oh, it's that guy" kind of look, but an "oh, it's that guy" kind of look, with the negative inflection when it comes to who I am and what I represent as that guy.
This doesn't bother me. I figure they all know about the fight yesterday, or people heard about my offer to the busty bitch of principle. I figure Kiba's getting the same shit, since he was involved in the fight, but I don't give a half a rat's ass, 'cause that fatherfucker deserves it.
Anyway. The lunchroom.
It's effing packed the way it always is when it's only been a few minutes after the bell has rung, but I push pass the line that starts at the entrance, and ignore the glares and "dumb fuck" that come my way. I even give some back, but I don't really have time for that right now. Right now, I have to find Candy-hair. I thought it'd be easier considering he has candy-hair, but it takes me like seven minutes before I find his red bush of a scalp standing up from a table near the back of the lunchroom with a look on in face like someone pissed on his cornflakes and he had no choice but to eat it anyway because he was too late for school to make another batch or something.
I waste no time going over to him, getting in his face and stopping him from going wherever he needs to go. He looks at me with wide eyes, and I swear his eyes are like two thirds of his fucking face, but I don't have time to think about stupid details like that.
"You," I say, putting a finger on his tiny chest. The bastard winces, like I'm stabbing him with a damn knife. "We have a meeting." I finished, and I admit it's lame, but I'm not worried about being lame in front of Candy-hair here, not when he looks at me like he's ready to faint or something.
"U-uhmm…ahhh…"
Aaand, he's got a case of the Hinata-Static-Stutter. Fantastic.
"Sorry to interrupt your orgasm," I say, pushing him some more with my finger. "But sit your ass back down. We need to talk."
Candy-hair looks at me, and oh my effing stars and garters his eyes get even bigger, and his weird pupils shake in his eyes, like their having their own kind of epileptic shock.
"Are you…" I stop myself before I say "okay", because I remember that I don't give a damn. I never give damns about people. It's always been physically, and mentally impossible for me, and I'm not going to start now.
"The hell is wrong with you?" That's more like it.
Candy-hair blinks at me, and takes a step back, away from my finger, before bowing his head. "I'm…you were…not here…yesterday…" he mumbles, and I literally have to cup my ear like an old person to hear him better.
"No, I wasn't. I got caught up trying to save the sanctity of my anus in a gangbang." Then I grab his shoulder and pull him towards me, and bend a bit so we're directly face to face. "I know you haven't been so lucky." I whisper to him gravely. "I know that rat-faced Orochimaru has fucked you sideways—don't deny it," I warn when I see him open his mouth to protest. "I'm not going to tell anyone. Not before I expose that studentfucker and all the other studentfuckers in this damn school for the student fuckers they are."
Candy-hair is breathing quickly, now, and if you thought his eyes would stop growing, you're wrong. Those shits just grew another ten degrees in circumference right before my own (normal-sized) eyes.
"I…" he starts to say, and he looks from side to side.
I know there are people watching us right now, but I can't care. Not when this man (which I hesitate to call a man, honestly) is so vital to my master plan. Not that it matters if he disagrees with me; he's going to help me whether he likes it or not.
"I…" he says again, and I swear to Allah, he's digging into my nerves more than that Busty-Bitch's static-stutter. "C-can we talk about this outside?"
I blink and step back for a second. "Uhm." I'll curse myself later, for speaking his language.
"It's just that…" he looks to the side again, nervously. "I think…this is…the kind of conversation…someone should have…privately…" he looks up at me then, giving me a upward cocksucker look that girls give you when they're holding your dick and asking permission to blow.
I swallow with difficulty and look to the side. Then I process what Candy-hair has just said. When I replay his words in my head, I realize he's lost that static-stutter speech, and moved onto this sort of annoying slow speech, like he's looking for the words to say as he's saying them.
"We can be private here, just as much as we can outside." I say, finally, raising an eyebrow. "There are free tables everywhere." I point at a random one to my left, just in case the little bastard needs proof.
He looks at me all cocksucker like again, and moves his lips like he's fixing lipstick. "But…I was…hoping…that I could…spend some time…outside…" he says, in that infuriating slowness.
"Well. I. Think. Here. Is. Fine." I reply, trying to imitate him but failing miserably.
As if his audacity knows know bounds, he moves a little closer to me, that cocksucker look on full blast, and dips his head a bit so all I can see are those huge fucking eyes. "But I was…really…looking forward…to it…" he says.
My eyes are twitching. Don't tell me how stupid I look. I know how stupid I look. But this guy…
I take a step back, away from him, and point an accusing finger. "You…" I start seriously. "You weren't raped by Orochimaru at all!" I shout. "You probably fucking wanted it you sick fuck!"
I can't effing believe this. My inside man, the person who was going to help me with this project, is a fucking slut. He's got cock-sucker eyes, and cock-sucker lips, and damn those cock-sucker eyes, looking at me with those damned cock-sucker eyes, I wish he didn't have those damned cock-sucker eyes—
"That's…that's not…" and now the little bastard is narrowing his eyes, like I offended him or something again, and darting his eyes from side to side as more and more people look in interest.
It's not like I'm being discreet after all.
"It's just…I've been…really wanting to…go outside…and I just—"
"Why the fuck are you talking like that?" I shout, exasperated. "Spit it out!"
Candy-hair blinks rapidly now, like he's stuck in a corner. But he looks more offended then apologetic, the bastard. "What?...I'm…I…just…I…don't…I…can't—"
"Oh, my God." I seethe, and I never knew my voice could mix such exasperation and anger together like that. "Alright, alright, we can fucking go outside. God damn, good fucking gracio—" I stop then, because if I continue, I'm going to put a bullet through my brain. And I need this brain.
Candy-hair has the audacity to raise an eyebrow at me, the little bastard. As if I'm being weird. He bows a little, and for a second I think his hair falls into whatever gruel they're serving in the lunchroom today, before he utters an ungrateful "thanks" not separated by infuriating pauses this time.
"Alright, then." I say finally, and turn and start walking towards the Cafeteria exit, not looking to see if the little bastard is following behind me. But I'd bet money (that I don't have) that the feminine pitter-patter of feet I hear are his stupid little girly legs, walking fast to catch up.
When we're outside, Candy-hair surprises me by somehow taking the lead and leading us to a creepy-ass tree with leaves that extend far past the trunk in the back of the school. There are people all over the yard, but no one sits under the tree. I'm not surprised, since everyone in this damn school has been trying to rock the NarutoTan™ for months, and if they miss out on any type of sun and sit in shade, they'd miss their mark. Not that they'll ever get it; you have to be born with perfection.
Don't make fun of me, but since there's no chair, I practically have no choice but to sit cross-legged in front of this motherfather. And when I open my mouth to speak, the little jackass starts eating, like there aren't important matters at hand. He sits there eating, like I don't even exist.
I give the guy a full four minutes before I've had enough. I take his tray and easily tip it to the side and watch as all the contents slip off and fall to the ground next to him. He doesn't even try to stop it. He watches all his precious food fall onto the ground with normal sized eyes (which is progress for him, I bet) and does nothing it.
"Now," I say, not waiting for him to look up. "I have a few things I need to say."
He looks at me with prissy narrowed eyes, that I can't take seriously because he's so damned small. The inside of his mouth moves, so I know he's chewing his gums indignantly from the inside. The nerve of him.
"I'll start with my plan," I continue. "You and I both know that this place people like to call a school is a shit hole in a shit storm of teachers that abuse and rape their students. I know you're a victim to this, so I need your help to take these fuckers down."
Candy-hair blinks at me slowly. Like he's contemplating whether to run away, or ask me if I'm sane. "And…how do you suppose you'll…do…that…?" He asks carefully.
"Easy." I say. "Buuut, I can't tell you the plan until I know you're on board."
He suddenly looks uncomfortable, and looks away for a moment. "What can I do…" he asked slowly. "I don't…think…I...—"
"Let me stop you right there," before you make me smack you with that slow motion talking shit, "Just answer me this: did you are did you not get raped by Orochimaru? Just admit that, join my cause, and then we'll go through the plan." I say it slowly, because this guy hasn't proven that he's the sharpest tool in the shed.
Candy-hair looks uncomfortable again, and he sets his (empty courtesy of me) tray aside. "I don't…" he seems to be looking for the words. "I…wasn't…raped." He says, and looks at me like he's trying to make me understand something. "No one gets…raped…here. In this…school…" he pulls his legs towards him and starts taking off one of his shoes. Before I can ask what the fuck he's doing, he shakes the shoe he's taken off and I watch as sand particles come out.
…
…
"Why the fuck do you have sand in your shoe?"
He looks embarrassed for a moment before he shrugs and puts it back on. "This morning…I went to the beach…and my feet…got wet…and the sand…went into my shoes…"
I blink. Then I scowl.
I've made a mistake. Candy-hair is definitely not the man for this job. Candy-hair man, is a Sandy-man, and Zeus knows Sandmen can't do anything worth shit.
"What the fuck are you saying about kids not getting raped here?" I ask, getting back on topic. "Of course they are. Almost every teacher in this damned school has bend some poor sap over to give them better grades, and I'm not gonna just stand by and—"
"But its not…rape." Sandy says, and he's looking at me like it makes him uncomfortable to say these things. "They…ask….for it." He continues. "No one…is…forced." He looks away and brushes candy-ass red hair behind his ear.
I blink at him. "Are you…defending the teachers?" I ask incredulously. "So fucking what if the kids ask for it! No teacher should be going around accepting fuck requests from fourteen year old kids! And for what reason? Higher marks? It doesn't make any fucking sense!"
Sandman has backed into a tree now, as if I'm scaring him. But I'm only telling him the truth.
"No kid should have the fucking option to fuck their teacher—I don't care if you're failing everything. I'd rather take a bullet to the face, before I fuck a teacher—especially Orochimaru," I add to sting. "Because my grades are worthless when compared to my fucking dignity!" I shout, and I know people are looking at us now, pretending not to be listening in.
Candy-hair looks like he's about ready to bolt, and his face is red, and his mouth is pursed in a hard line. "You…don't…get it." He says slowly, looking into my eyes with a narrowed look like that I still can't take seriously. "It's…not…like that…" he continues. "Grades…are…They're…important—"
"Important enough to fuck a butt-ugly, pussy lipped, pedophilic, ass munching, sixty-year old rapist like Orochimaru?" I exclaim incredulously. "Enough to be bend over backwards on a Zeus damned table in a storage room while some old-timer fucks you with his ancient cock?" I literally can't contain my anger, and I feel like I'm going to implode on myself. "Why are people so fucking desperate? Why were you so fucking desperate?" I wave my hands exasperatingly and look into the redhead's eyes determined to find the answer there.
Candy-hair looks devastated, like I called his mother a whore and said I was his real father or something. "You don't…" he starts, and his chest is rising up and down fast, like there's a detonator on his heart or something. "You just don't…"
"I don't what, what? Fucking spit it out—!"
"You don't get it!" The little man shouts, and he makes a move to stand up. "You…you can't…j-judge people for…doing whatever…they can—!" his face is so red and angry, and I figure he's talking so slowly now because that anger is overtaking him. But I'll be damned if I let this little guy walk out here feeling all justified 'cause he's mad.
"Of course I can judge them!" I shout back. "I'm not a hypocrite! I've never let my teacher screw me, and my grades are shit, lemmie tell you—"
"You…probably…don't have…people…who care…about your grades." He says, still breathing deeply. He's digging into his bag now, which is some girly messenger looking thing even if it's all grays and blacks.
"Of course I have people who care." I say, not shouting, but still keeping my voice elevated. "My asshole of a stepdad knows I can't get a job with my grades, so I'll be mooching off of him the rest of my life! That scares the shit out of him. But you know what? I don't give a damn."
Candy-hair shakes his head, seemingly exasperated with me (as if he has the right). "That's not…the same." He stops fumbling through his bag. He just has his hand in there, awkwardly, as if waiting for the moment to pull something out. I wonder if it's mace.
I wouldn't put it passed him.
"Listen to me," I say, trying to make final point. "I know part of the fault belongs to the students." I acquiesce easily; that's the whole reason why I chose Candy-hair for the job in the first place; he looked like he didn't want to be butt fucked by that snake-bastard, so I thought he'd be on my side about this.
"But the biggest fault belongs to the teachers." I continue. "Why? Because those bastards look forward to fucking desperate little asses like yours. Most of these fuckers make classes impossible to pass just so they can get a few students in their pants. And, if they don't like the way a student looks, they fail them 'cause they don't wanna fuck him. Now what kind of fucking system is that?" I ask him, trying to make him understand.
He puts his head down and looks sad, the pathetic little twit, like I hurt his feelings or something.
"I'm sure you've never had any problem getting the grades you want by pulling down your pants, since you look the way you do,"
Candy-hair looks at me, raising both eyebrows.
The bastard thinks I'm calling him beautiful. "Slutty." I correct him.
The redhead frowns again, and looks down again.
"There's nothing right with this school." I continue. "And it all starts with the teachers. We need to expose them. Not even the principle knows about the whole fucking business. I'm sure she hears rumors but she probably ignores them, the whore. We need to get the good teachers in on the dirty little secrets that suffocate this school, and once they know, we move on to the press, and once we've got the press, we've a hold on the media, and once we have that—you can say goodbye to those fucking teachers for good."
Gaara—that's his real name, if you forgot—stays silent for several moments. "What happens…to the school…when you…accomplish this…?" he asks quietly.
"What are you talking about?"
"The teachers…who have….sex with students…They are more than half…of the teacher staff…" he said. "They'll…have to shut down Konoha High…if they have to…get rid of them…all…"
"Then we'll get new ones." I don't know why this kid is fussing over it so much.
"It's not…that easy…" he almost whispers, before shaking his head and making a point not to look into my eyes. "What about the kids…who depend…on teacher's…malpractice…to get good grades." He finishes shamefully, and put his head down again. "What if…they replace all the teachers….with good teachers…and I fail…again…"
My god, I think the little bastard is going to cry.
And I feel…really…uncomfortable with that.
"If you follow my plan, you won't have to worry about your grades any longer." I say, but not before clearing my throat. "You'll be this town's high school charity case, and no one will ever cross you again after they find out all the things you've been through."
Gaara frowns, and does that infuriating thing with his lips again, like he's fixing lipstick. What the hell kind of nervous tick is that? "What am I…supposed to do, exactly?"
I pause. Do I really want to tell him my master plan?
I figure I have nothing to lose. Even if he tells, I can always find someone else—someone who isn't pro-rapist teacher—and have them go with the plan instead.
"We're going to make a video." I say. "A video featuring you and your squeeze Orochimaru and others." I watch as his eyes widen, and keep on widening as I continue. "Then we're going to threaten to post said videos on a certain social networking site, and when they don't comply to our requests, then we're going to post it on popular adult video sites, and by the third day the video has been posted, there will be an assembly addressing the video and its content—"
"You want to videotape me having sex with him?" Candy-hair asks incredulously, and he's shaking. "I can't do that." He says. "Everyone will find out and—"
"First of all, no one is going to give a damn. Secondly, it'll be censored." I reassure him. "It'll only show Orochimaru's face. People will speculate on who the student is, yeah, but we can blur your hair-color a bit. When you come out as one of his victims, there will be hundreds of kids coming out at the same time—"
"But…my father…"
"Fuck your father." I say angrily. "Not literally." I add, quickly, just in case his mind went there. "Besides, the rape part will be played up to the point where no student will be blamed no matter how many times teachers, who will eventually be exposed one by one, claim it was consensual, after we post their videos online."
"How are we going to…expose the other teachers?"
I frown at him. "Get with the program," I say, snapping my fingers in his face. "I'm going to record you having sex with all of them, and we are going to post these videos on the internet."
His eyes widen again, and he suddenly looks angry. "I can't do that." He says angrily.
I sigh. " Well I was gonna have you have sex with snake face only and just help me record all the other teachers in the act with other students, but after your display of whorishness in the lunchroom today, I figure you have enough sexual tendencies to be able to do it this way. It'll be easier for me, and it involves less sneaking around." I say truthfully.
Gaara looks confused. "My…whorishness…?" he asks looking genuinely bemused and offended.
But I don't buy it.
"Yeah. Whorishness. Now are you with me or not?" I ask, getting really sick of this conversation and everything about it. It wasn't supposed to take this long to recruit Candy-hair. We were supposed to have planned the time and place where the video would be recorded by now—
"No."
I blink. "What?"
Gaara shakes his head, and starts to stand up from his spot under the tree. "No. I don't…want to do this…I would…get hurt…"
I blink. Again. "What?"
The little bastard frowns a small frown. "You want to ruin my life…so you can…get back at the teachers…" he said carefully. "You need…a better…plan." He looked away, as if uncomfortable with what he said. "I can't…help you…" he finishes quietly.
I blink. Third time. "What?"
He sighs and opens his mouth to speak, before he closes it and shakes his head. "Forget it…" he says quietly. There's a small quirk of his lips, and he gives me the most hideously awkward kind of half-smile I've ever seen, that leaves as soon as it comes (which I've become an expert at) before he turns and walks away.
He has a girly walk.
But fuck that for right now.
My plan…
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
End of Chapter
Authors' Note
If anyone found anything offensive in this chapter I'm really sorry; all in good humor, but if it's something you can't leave alone, I will edit it out.
I'm so glad we got to see a bit of Gaara in the chapter, although his character seems to be a bit weird and undeveloped. I will develop him more in the future chappies.
And poor Naruto, what will he do about his plan, now? I suppose we'll see in the next chapter.
I've been trying to update other things as well—wish me luck, and please forgive me for taking so long. College is poop.
Later.