Date Posted:16:45:03 11/12/07 Mon Author:Frank Aiden Ryan Subject: Stephie's Misery part 5
It's been ages since I posted a bit of this story. But I like Stephie, so I decided to have another go now that I've got some more time on my hands. I'm really really curious to hear some opinions on it. So leave some feedback, aye?
You'll have to scroll back through the archives for the previous bits. Just hit the little '6' at the archives and that'll take you to parts 3 & 4 at least.
Stephie's Misery
Stephie had no idea that mankind had invented a vacuum cleaner that could suck dust SO loudly it made little innocent Stephies deaf. Least of all, Stephie thought, that there had been such a monster hidden inside his broom closet all this time.
But there was, and a certain former best friend called Dana took it upon herself to make as much incessant racket with the infernal device as was possible within the realm of set physics. Stephie had never heard of a vacuum cleaner breaking the sound barrier, yet this thing seemed to make a damn good effort. Stephie could barely hear himself think.
What's more, where Stephie's apartment wasn't exactly clean, at least the dust and he had a truce. Stephie and the Grand Army of Dustparticles had signed a pact when he moved in that Stephie would make no effort to commit dustparticlegenoside and in return, the dust had promised to settle only on items Stephie was sure he would not need.
Like that vacuum cleaner.
However, Dana's cleanly invasionplans had broken the fragile balance between Stephie and the dust and now it seemed to be everywhere. The sun shone through Stephie's window at an angle and he could see complete dustclouds float by as they tried to escape the giant maw of the vacuum cleaner. Kind of like War of the Worlds, Stephie thought, only with dust and without Tom Cruise.
“Gimme a hand?”, holared Dana’s voice over the vacuum cleaner’s noise.
“No, I’d rather lie here and stare and your boobs.”, Stephie replied. He wanted to cry, but was afraid dust would get in his tearducts.
“Wanker. And I hate you anyways. Your mum thought this was a good idea, but I swear to ya, she had no fucking clue this would be such a damn chore. You never DID clean your apartment since you moved in, DIDya?”
“No. I couldn’t be arsed.”
“You can’t be arsed for annythin’, and there’s yer problem, Steph.”, Dana growled.
“Doin’ fine, so far.”
“For a dust collector.”
“I happen to like dust.”
“I can tell. It seems to like you, too. Ye’ll never get laid in this pigstine.”
“Gawd, not that Damien again.”, Stephie signed and buried his face beneath some laundry.
“Aah, see? You DO think about him.”, Dana smirked.
“I don’t, you just won’t shut up about him. Hey, I’ve been looking for this shirt....”, Stephie said absently. “You know, I’m beginning to develop a severe antipathy for this Damien and I haven’t even dated him yet.”
“Keyword here is ‘yet.’”, Dana giggled.
Stephie rolled his eyes, but only his refound shirt noticed. It smelled of old sweat and the stains on it near the collar implied Stephie ejaculated all over it one evening. He took a mental note not to let Dana see it. The morning had been quite embarrassing enough. And Stephie was only wearing boxers still and some parts of his shoulder still felt sticky from not being dried properly when Dana interrupted his wakeupshower.
Stephie rolled on his back and had to laugh. His best friend was cleaning his apartment, his mum was probably going to buy him groceries and Stephie had more chances of winning the Lottery than running into Damien again. Oh, Dana would drag him through the mall again, no doubt – but at least Stephie would probably get another coke.
His stomach rumbled in protest. It was very upset that it hadn’t eaten yet, while something as volatile as coke was entertaining Stephie’s thoughts. His stomach felt somewhat neglected.
Stephie grumbled at his high metabolism, and went in search for a stray Almond Joy.
It took Dana until well past three to get rid of ALL of Stephie’s laundry, commit vacuumcleangenocide on the ENTIRE dust colony and doing a week’s worth of dishes. She dressed Stephie in clothes she found on his dresser’s top shelf and which he hadn’t worn since he was sixteen, and the embarrassing fact that they still fitted him was overshadowed by the enourmous out-of-style glow that eminated from them. He wore a pair of jeans that were so pale blue they could be mistaken for white in bad light, and a shirt with faux spray paint patterns that used to be red but had turned a shade of magenta instead. Stephie had to laugh:
“You’re going to take me to find the love of my life, and I have to be dressed like THIS?”
“Hey, at least you don’t stink.”, Dana laughed as she doused him with CK One for good measure. Stephie had to sneeze and was suddenly overcome with the dread that the bottle might run out before next Christmas.
“Now, your hair.”, Dana mused, as if Stephie had been a chunck of clay and Dana a rather short sculptress from Scotland with her head on fire that somehow bore uncanny resemblence to a bumblebee.
“We want to present you vulnerable, yet agressive. Mysterious, yet edgy.”, she said as she swooshed a number of different combs through Stephie’s hair. None of them pleased her.
“Let’s just play safe and go with Emo.”
“Gah, not emo. You might just as well kill me.”
“Shaddap. I know these Damien types and they’re all hard on the outside/soft centre. They see an emo boy and just want to either cuddle them or rape them or both. In your case, we’re aming for both. Latter first, of course. There, take a look in the mirror.”
“What with?”, Stephie snarked. His hair was now in front of his eyes.
“Tosser. There.”, Dana grumbled while with the utmost care removing some blonde hairs out of Stephie’s eyes. His vision returned to one eye.
“Bloody Hell, I look like Ellen Degeneres.”, Stephie winced.
“If you were a girl, perhaps, yes, in a sort of lesbian way. As luck would have it, you’re a gay boy and we’re emphasising your androgyny.”
“Whoopee. Can’t I just go back to being a fashionknowhowless raddish that stares at your boobs?”
“Too late for that, we still have to out you to your mum.”, Dana grinned sadistically.
“Crap in a bottle, my mum.”, Stephie growled.
“Right, finishing touch. Make up.”
“Make up? I don’t do make up.”
“I’ll do it for you. It’s hip again. Here, put this nailpolish on, then scratch half of it off again.”
“Yeah yeah, I know the drill.” Stephie had always liked nailpolish on boys, but never thought of wearing the stuff himself. Mostly because he bit his nails incessantly and he didn’t like the idea of getting it in his mouth at all.
“Wait, not eyeliner please. You’re going to turn me into a caricature.”, Stephie said and he meant it.
“Relax! I’m not doing Jared Leto on you. You’ll hardly see it, only if you look right into your eyes.”
“Which luckily noone will, thanks to my ‘Ellen’ do.”, Stephie snarked.
“Exactly......there. Done. Not too shabby, either! Ya look hot.”
“I feel like a Blaine”
“A who?”
“Barbie’s Homosexual Friend. All dressed up. Blaine. Google him.”, Stephie smiled.
“You know I’m beginning to think you’re actually really queer, that you know these things.”
“And here I thought you were the trendwatcher. Raddish.”, Stephie grinned.
“Oh shaddap. I’ll buy you a coke if you promise to keep it inside this time.”
“Maybe. Those croissants yesterday worked wonders. Buy me one?”
“Two, if you come to the Mall voluntarily and I don’t have to physically drag you.”
“Done. I thought my outfit was drag enough, by the way.”, Stephie snarked.
“Bastard. I do my best on you and this is how ya show gratitude. Real classy, that.”, Dana laughed.
Though Stephie didn’t admit to it, he was actually quite pleased with himself. His house was dustless, his dishes were done, his laundry was drying, he was looking forward to a decent lunch and all because of some boy named Damien, who Stephie was certain he would never, ever, EVER see again. Stephie smiled to himself. Too bad I have to look like a twat today, though.
