Idiot Theatre [Vincent]

[Samuel Rixon]

“Vin! Y’wanna get drunk tonight?”
“Fuck yeah, man! Getcha scrawny ass over here!”
“... Do you HAVE booze?”
“Uh... hold on... ... ... ... YEAAAH, fuckin’ JD by the bottle!”
“... We need Mario. JD and MARIO.”
“Well, y’fuckin’ burned m’copy, so bring ya own, fuckface.”
“Asshole.”
“Whatever. An’ ‘f ya gunna get high, do ‘t before y’ get here ‘cause that shit smells like some straight up RIPE ass.”
“... Do you want me to bring Mario or not, dickhead?”
“I said yeah, dumbass. So ya comin’ or what?”
“Fuck yes.”
“A’ight. Seeya soon, shitbreath.”
Click.

Fuck yes. Sammy now had plans for Friday night. He copped a grin and got off of his bed. He’d been bored as fuck, until the idea had struck him. Vincent! He was always good for booze and video games. And now that he’d agreed, all Sam had to do was get his lazy ass in gear. Which he did surprisingly well, actually. He dumped his schoolwork out of his backpack (homework? Who needs it?) and proceeded to pack it with chips, a pair of pyjama pants, Mario games, and just in case being drunk ceased to be funny anymore, a little bag from his stash. Fuck it, he’d smoke outside. It would be incentive for Vin to stay the fuck away from him during the night.

Once that was done, Sam tossed a hoodie on, stuffed his feet into his beat up sneakers, and hit the road. ... Literally. While he didn’t run (Sam? Run? Never.), he still managed a decent pace. Pilot Ridge wasn’t that far away. He’d texted Ember that he was probably spending the night at Vin’s place. Unless Vin was feeling particularly mean, and let a very drunk, quite possibly stoned Sam wander back to Hammel all alone.

... Let’s hope Vin isn’t that mean.

ANYWAY. It didn’t take that long for Sam to hit Vin’s apartment. He chose the elevator over the stairs (big surprise, that) and stood in front of Vin’s door. Did he knock? No. Did he say something nice? No. Instead, he yelled through the door. “MANSON. STOP CHOKIN’ THE CHICKEN AND LET ME IN.” ... Loving?

[Vincent Verax]

After the phone conversation ended, Vincent grabbed the bottles of Jack out of the cabinets and set them on the table by the TV, then picked up the pairs of dirty pants that were scattered on the floor. He was always up for a night with Sammy, especially considering they both ended up laughing and grinning so much that their jaws were sore the next day. This is just what he needed to end a good week.

"Fuck, Charmander, 'f ya wanted t'blow me, all ya gotta do is ask!" Vincent shouted right back through the door before unlocking it and letting his friend in. As Sammy walked by him, Vinnie gave his ass a sharp slap and grinned manically, grabbing one of the bottles and tossing it to Sam. "Bottoms up, fuckface. 'Cause you an' me ain't gunna b' remembering this shit 'n th'morning." Smirking like a madman, he grabbed the other bottle and took a swig straight from it. Glasses? Who needed glasses? That just meant more dishes he would have to clean and he fucking hated dishes. He hated them more than he hated when his balls itched.

Kicking some more random shit out of his way, Vin grabbed the game system and started hooking it up to the TV. "Y'better not scorch no more 'f my shit, assmouth, 'cause else 'm gunna steal ya fuckin' stash an' flush it down th'toilet." Oh noes, threats to the safety of Sammy's weed! Now you know he means business. "Gimme that fuckin' game, Burninator!" He held one hand out while grabbing the bottle with the other and taking another drink.

[Samuel Rixon]

... There is a reason Sam likes Vincent’s braindead company. Vin doesn’t get on his ass about homework, or running. He didn’t conk out randomly in the middle of a pointless debate. No, instead, he got drunk, liked fire as much as Sam did, and... he was just a hell of a good time? At least until Sam heard the comment yelled back at him. “Dunno where your dick’s been, Manson. Don’t wanna get herpes.”

The ass slap made Sam regret coming over in the first place, but we aaaalll know that Jack makes everything better. He forgave Vin for the slap only after the bottle came his way. He caught it (by some sheer miracle), and pulled off the cap, taking a drink. It was never too early to start in on some heavy drinking. “That’s the way I like it.” Of course, one of the last times this had happened, it had ended in disaster, leaving Sam to be very, very cautious in drinking heavily around Vincent. He took another drink, looking forward to a night of being very, very buzzed. ... And Mario.

Oh shit. You do not threaten the stash. Do you know how long it took Sam to procure that stuff? He’s stingy with it now, of course. All his money is funnelled into the Keeping Vin’s Fat Mouth Shut Fund. He went up behind Vin, tossed his bag on the couch, and kicked him square in the ass. “Wasn’t my fuckin’ fault. Horus made me laugh and then... fire?” ... That was eloquent. Not. “And you fuckin’ flush my stash, I’ma kill you.” No, really. He might. Now, at Vin’s little request, Sam did what anyone would do in his position. He fished out the games from his bag and tossed them at Vinnie’s head. “I brought MarioKart, bitch. You’re goin’ DOWN.” ... Oh god. No. Here we go.

[Vincent Verax]

"Y'lucky I don' light y'pubes on fire." Believe me, he's thought about it. Although the image entertained him for a brief moment, it wasn't enough to distract him from the thought of his burned property. "Yeah, well, Floppers ain' here s'ya best not b' lightin' anythin' on fire, unless 's ya face." Granted, I would truly love to see the two of them wrestling while Vin tries to get in Sam's pants enough to set his crotch aflame, but I don't think they're drunk enough for that yet. I'll keep waiting.

Chucking a controller at Sammy, Vinnie put the game on and turned on the system. "Oh fuck man, y'got any idea jus' how good I'ma beat ya ass? Almos' as good as I fucked it!" Yes, so Sammy may have paid Vincent to keep that secret, but when it was just him, Vin, and Ema in the apartment, Vincent felt no need for secrecy. It wasn't like Ema was going to go off tattling to the school about what happened, mostly because 99% of people who saw her ran away screaming and the other 1% couldn't understand spider.

Dropping down on the couch next to Sammy, Vincent kicked his feet up on the coffee table and started going through the menus "Y'best remember 'm fuckin' Yoshi always!" On the character select screen, he fumbled to pick Yoshi, then grinned confidently when he succeeded in doing so, congratulating himself with more booze. "Y'can pick ya little shroom guy 'cause ya a fuckin' druggie an' whatever. Betcha wanna get high offa him, huh?" Because that made perfect sense?

[Samuel Rixon]

“I’ll light your ugly ass on fire, fucktard.” It was true, Horus wasn’t there. Though I have to wonder if that fact is worrying or not. Ember’s not there to tell them to knock off fighting, and Horus isn’t there to be comic relief. So... they might just end up killing each other. Joy. “Fuck you, Vince.” Oh Sammy, that’s just not smart, sweetie. He’s going to kill you, now. They’ll get drunk enough for wrestling. You just watch.

Sadly, Sam lacked the coordination to catch the controller, and watch rather sadly as it sailed through his hands and onto the floor. He had to scowl, though. Sorry, what? Who was beating who’s ass, now? ... Wait. Oh no. No no no. “Shut up, asshole.” Secrecy means secrecy. Sam doesn’t like being reminded of drunken fornication, thank you. “I’ma kick your fuckin’ ass and then you’re gonna shut the hell up.” Speaking of Ema, Sammy wants spider cuddle time. I don’t, but for some heinous reason, he likes her.

As Vin dropped beside him, Sam shoved him and picked up his controller from the floor. “Don’t fuckin’ care. Stupid green dragon... thing. What the fuck is Yoshi?” Let’s not get into this. Please? Sam’s coordination was only slightly better, though he managed to take a drink, elbow Vin in the ribs, and select Bowser. “Don’t want the fuckin’ shroom guy. Shrooms are nasty, man.” Yes, Sam knows this firsthand. “I’ma be Bowser ‘coz he’ll fuckin’ crush Yoshi off the track.” ... Somehow, Sam makes less sense.

[Vincent Verax]

"Don' b'jealous 'cause m'ass is awesome an' yours 's jus' kinda okayish." Vincent's moment of gloating was quickly ruined by his least favorite nickname ever and Sammy received a rather hard punch to the shoulder "Call m'that again an' I'ma hit ya so hard 'n the dick that s'gunna turn inside out!" Ouch. I'm not even a man and that made me wince, I can only imagine what it will do to Sam. Hey, wrestling is good for me too, it just means they'll be groping on each other in an attempt to prove dominance. The only thing that could make it better is if they were naked.

"Yoshi is gunna OWN YA FUCKIN' ASS! At least he ain't some weird fuckin'... genetic fuckup like Bowser." Scrolling through the available carts, Vin eventually picked a green one simple because it matched Yoshi and waited for Sammy, once again raising the bottle to his lips. If they were going to have a great time tonight, he was going to be rushing the Jack into his system so he got as drunk as he could as fast at he could. "Y'wish ya was as good as me."

Starting the race up, Vincent leaned forward and bit on his bottom lip "Get ready t'eat m' Yoshi-farts, ya fat motherfuckah!" Slamming his thumb down on the button, he took off from the starting line, grinning like the mad fool he is. "Awwww, looks like y'fuckin' Bowser suuuuucks, kinda like yooooou!" Yeah, if Sammy thought Vin was going to let this drop even for tonight, he's sorely mistaken, but considering I know how these two turn out when under the influence, he'll care much less after he gets enough alcohol in his system.

[Samuel Rixon]

“Okayish?” Bastard. “Didn’t stop you from fuckin’ tappin’ it.” ... Okay, apparently the fact that Vincent did indeed fuck him was just taboo around everyone else. Vin knows it happened. Sam knows it happened. All Sammy knew now was that it wasn’t happening ever, ever again. He tried to dodge the punch, but with the grace of a baby hippo, he took the hit and fell off the couch. Apparently, saving his Jack was more important than the controller, which he dropped. Again. “Grow up Manson. Leave my fuckin’ junk alone.” That goes for the rest of the night too, Vin. “Or I’ll bite your nuts off.” ... Are all boys this screwed in the head?

“Yoshi’s a fucked up dragony thing! ... And Bower’s bigger.” Sam pulled himself back up on the couch, wedging his bottle between the couch cushions. He picked the obnoxiously bright yellow cart, grinning to himself as he watched Bowser wave from the little car. There was nothing better than booze and MarioKart. Absolutely nothing. Except maybe spider cuddle time. “I’ma kick your ass, fag.” Oh great, more name calling. Maturity at its’ finest.

This isn’t going to end well. I’ll say it now, and probably reiterate it many times over the course of this insanity. Sam grew up with a gaggle of siblings. He isn’t above cheating. Not that he’s about to. What’s the point in cheating right from the start. “Bowser’s gonna fuckin’ eat Yoshi.” Never mind his farts. Of course, we all know how MarioKart works. And we all know that, indeed, Bowser sucks off the starting line. Forgetting about his Jack for now, Sam just leaned forward, because we all know your performance improves the closer you are to the television. “Shut it, fagface.” And, because he’s a jackass, Sam tried to hook his foot around the cord for Vin’s controller and yanked. Fuck if Vin was going to win this round.

And this was only lap one.

[Vincent Verax]

"An' though y'complain 'bout it, y'was certainly beggin' m' ta fuck ya then." Nothing that either of them said or did would change the fact that they slept together. That didn't stop Vinnie from milking it for all it it was worth. He'd be more than stupid if he didn't. But he didn't have time to reflect on that, as Sam had just yanked his controller free from the console. Swearing, he dived over the coffee table, crashing on his elbows, then frantically plugged it back in. "Ya fuckface! 'Cha d'that for?" He scowled, remaining half sprawled over the table as he tried to regain his position in the game.

Back in first place, he moved back to the couch and shot Sammy a sideways glare. "Bowser's gunna fuckin' regret messin' wit' Yoshi 'cause Yoshi don' play, man, Yoshi kicks fuckin' ASS." He too leaned forward ridiculously far, frantically pressing the buttons on his control to lay down banana peels. (He had always wanted to dry driving over a banana peel in a go-kart to see if he really would spin out like that, but thankfully he didn't have access to said go-kart.)

But then he was smirking deviously and he leaned just a little to the side and yes, you guessed it, gassed his friend. The couch muffled the sound a little, but it didn't stop a manic chuckle from escaping the goth boy. I guess this means it's time for chemical warfare. Sammy, dear, plug your nose.

[Samuel Rixon]

“I call bullshit, bitch.” That’s right. He was back to being defensive. Apparently, it was only cool when he was the one talking about it. “I toldja, I don’t want herpes.” It honestly wouldn’t surprise him if Vincent had procured some form of STD along the road. Not that it would matter much. Bastard healer. He deserved his controller being yanked from the console. “’Coz you suck, asswipe, that’s why.” ... That’s logical, isn’t it? Not that it helped. He was in first place for all of ten seconds before Yoshi went roaring past again. “Fucker.”

“Yoshi fuckin’ EATS ass, ya ‘tard.” ... How that is relative to this conversation, I have no idea. Next round, he’s picking someone new. Someone FAST. Like... the little Toad bastard. Or one of the girls. Then he could brag about the fact that Peach’s tits were huge. And now that he was thinking about Peach’s tits, and attempting to grab a drink while driving, he was totally not paying attention to the banana peels Vincent was tossing on the track. One, two, three. Yep. He hit all three. “MANSON. Fuckin’ bitch.” Hello, sixth place.

The boys have spent enough time together by now to know how the other works, I’m sure. In that, devious smirks from goth boys are never, ever a good sign. Sammy started glancing between the television (fourth place now, fucking shells) and Vincent. It was just as he procured the magic “let’s fuck the leader” blue shell, and shot it, that he realized what Vin was doing. Oh fuck. “Fuck, sick dude.” Of course, you know this means war. He leaned over and punched him, all the while trying not to breathe. Driving one handed (that works SO well), he pulled back long enough to stick his finger in his mouth and jam it in Vin’s ear. He’d get chemical revenge later. For now, this would suffice.

Oh, look. Hello again, sixth place.

[Vincent Verax]

Vincent's childish giggles followed everytime Sammy ran into one of his banana peels. There was nothing like beating your friend's ass at MarioKart and when it came to this game, Vincent had the skills to pay the bills. Well, actually he wished he could paid for playing MarioKart, because then he wouldn't have to blackmail Sammy (although he still would, because it was FUN) and he wouldn't have to do crazy shit for cash (but he still would because it's FUN) he just wouldn't be REQUIRED to do such things, as he was now. More or less. I confused myself.

"Y'jus' know y'love my Banana!" Vinnie declared with a vague gesture towards his crotch. As we all know, in Vin's demented little mind, everyone is in love with his manbits. Thankfully, Vin was spared from knowing that Sammy was thinking of Peach's tits, because he would have made a very rude comment about it. Not that Sam thinking of the breasts of a video game character was polite in any way, but the goth boy has a tendency to make things worse. Much worse. Much like the time he got Sammy to ride with him on a skateboard they'd hooked to a back of a truck. Not only did they crash, but Vincent thought it would be hilarious to grab Sammy and somersault down the hill they were on. Needless to say, the both of them ended up with quite a lot of scratches and bruises.

Vincent's smug grin upon ripping ass at his friend was quickly chased away by the annoying beeping noise that signalled the arrival of a Rape!Shell. "OH FUCK, Y'fuckin' cockbreathed motherfucker." As the shell showed up on his screen, Vincent frantically twisted the joystick in hopes of evading it, though he knew it was a lost cause. Boom. "NOOOOO, YOSHIIIIIIII!" He shouted as he watched him fly up in the air. "Oh y'fuck---" but he didn't get to finish, as it was then that there was something wet, cool, and entirely unpleasant wiggling its way into his ear. "FUCKIN' HELL, QUIT FINGERIN' M'EAR YA GAYFACE! EWWWW" He tried to wipe the saliva from his ear with his shoulder, only to fail miserably and notice he'd dropped to third place. "I'm gunna fuckin' kill ya SO dead y'won't be able t'BREATHE!"

Because making sense is so overrated.

[Samuel Rixon]

Vincent’s childish giggles didn’t help Sammy’s little ego as he watched Bowser spin out. We all know how MarioKart works. Namely, Bowser. Once he stops, have fun getting him going to ZOOM levels of speed again. Seriously. He was switching characters before the next race. As far as blackmail was concerned, well, Sam would really rather Vin got paid for playing MarioKart than getting money off of him. He was slowly going broke, and his parents were questioning where his money went. Short of saying ‘Oh THAT. Funny story. I got wasted and slept with my friend. He’s a guy. So now I’m paying him to keep his trap shut,’ he... really didn’t have a good excuse. He couldn’t use the weed angle, either, because they’d kill him. ... Maybe he’d start joining Vincent in his quest to maim himself for money. It would just take him longer to heal...

I’m stopping that train before it even leaves the station.

“Oh Jesus Christ Vin. Shut the fuck UP.” Sam loves it. In that, he’d love to slam his foot right into Vin’s crotch. Just enough to see him yelp. If nothing else, it would brighten Sam’s day. He knew better than to voice his opinion on Peach’s rockin’ rack, at least to Vincent. Horus might appreciate it, but knowing Vin, he’d have something smartass to say. Like ‘you wanna fuck a videogame bitch!’. ... Only with more Vincent. It’s an impossible thing to duplicate. Just like the time he’d convinced Sam to ride the skateboard. See, Vin might remember it with only scratches and bruises, the likes of which had healed fairly quickly. Sam... hadn’t been so lucky. His wrist had hurt like a bitch after that, but it was nothing a little hit of pot wouldn’t get rid of. Well, in his head, anyway. Ember had caught him and shooed him to the nurse. Turns out that wrists break. Who knew?

The string of curses that left Vin’s mouth just served to make Sam’s manic grin widen. “Love you too, asshole.” He got a perverse amount of pleasure from watching Yoshi fly up into the hair. ... He got an even bigger pleasure when Bowser sailed past Yoshi’s flailing in the cart, chasing after the new leaders. There was no way he was going to win, but it was nice to see that second place icon. At least long enough to half abandon the game and give Vincent a wet willy. How old are they again? Two? He didn’t bother to respond to Vin’s garbled yelling, only pulling back with a look of extreme satisfaction on his face. “... I’d like to see you try, Manson.” I fear them not even making it through one race, but hey, that’s just me. Also, issuing challenges of that nature is never a good idea.

[Vincent Verax]

Sammy should never attempt to do the things that Vin does. In fact, Vincent should come with a warning label that says "Do not attempt to recreate any of these stunts, they are all performed by an idiotic (un)professional! You will die!" It was a miracle in and of itself that Vincent had even managed to remain alive and not comatose before he even developed his power. Then again, Sammy knows he'd totally be lonely if he didn't have Vin to fight or cuddle with, even if they often claimed they would kill each other. I don't think either of them are capable of murder anyways.

Sammy should never invite Vincent to cause bodily harm, because he will always take that invitation up... just after he proved to the pyro that he was the one true master of MarioKart. "Fuckin'... cumguzzler!" He made a face at Sam before gripping his controller tightly and switching to ass-kicking mode, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrated super hard on the game. It was time to unleash every last one of his epic skills, and as Yoshi recovered from his blasting, Vin roared back onto the track, grumbling at the new leaders. "You're goin down so fuckin' hard, man. So fuckin' hard."

When he received his favorite red shell, Vinnie only smirked and sent it homing after Bowser, chuckling with idiotic glee. When he found the opening, Vin made his move to jump to the head of the pack, only snapping out of his SuperSRSMarioKart mode when he was once again rightly in first place and he swore if Sammy hit him with another of those stupid blue shells, he would make sure he would be incapable of reproducing. (Good thing, too, 'cause the thought of Mini-Sammy's running around is terrifying.) "Y'can't beat m'Charmander. Y'jus' can't do it." He flopped backwards across Sam's lap, acting as if he had the entire race in the bag.

[Samuel Rixon]

Sadly, if you’re drunk, and/or high, well... everything seems like a good idea. That includes Vincent’s insane stunts. Really, I think the kid has a career in either being a side show freak, or a stuntman. Sam is just useless. He only has his looks going for him. He’s cute. And shoots fire. ... Filler! But yes, Sam would be sad without a Vincent around. If Vincent wasn’t around, he’d lack an excuse to get into fistfights in class, or to get drunk on a Friday night. He’d have no one to kick his ass at MarioKart unless he was home... do you see where this is going? A Vincent is required for Sam’s daily function!

This is why Sam needs to go home and play his baby brother at MarioKart. Sam never was nice enough to teach him all the tricks he’d learned from their older brother, Kevin, or from Vincent. So he was an easy one to beat. Vincent, not so much. But Sam was determined to kick his ass. Even if that involved dirty tricks, like unplugging controllers. “You’re such a sore loser.” Sam stuck his tongue out at Vincent and figured he was safe enough in second place to knock back another swig of Jack. And he was. For about three more seconds before he was hit with the cursed red shell.

“Goddammit!” He growled as Bowser was sent into a tailspin. “Fuckin’ bastard.” Sammy watched rather sadly as he was passed. Once again, he’d have to start from scratch on the speed thing. In other words, he was going to LOSE. “Oh, it’s on, Manson. You’re going down.” He can talk big. ... He just can’t back it up. Still, he didn’t care if Vin lay in his lap. A few months ago, maybe, but he was back to a relatively comfortable place with his friend. He took special care in hitting the mystery boxes. Because he was in such a miserable placing (back in sixth), he was delighted to find not a blue shell in his weaponry box, but rather, a nice looking ROCKET. Oh yes. He grinned and activated it. The nice black rocket sent him flying to the leaders, and set him down just a little ways ahead of Yoshi. “OH. Take THAT, bitch!” And as if that’s not a big enough blow to Vincent’s ego, well... remember the talk of chemical warfare a few posts back? Oh yes. It’s revenge time. And with Vin across his lap? Perfect. Revenge complete. ... Sorry, Vin.

[Vincent Verax]

Vincent's extreme amounts of confidence often got him in trouble. This was one of those times. Though he thought he had the race in the bag and was purposely weaving about the track in an idiotic fashion as he worked his way towards the finish line and his victory, he didn't seem to realize that Sammy was not giving up. And when Bowser flew past him, rocket attached, and snatched first place and the race from Vinnie's hands... all hell broke loose.

"FUCKIN' HELL!" He shouted, bolting upright from Sammy's lap (not before getting a whiff of Sam's special brew and gagging) and throwing the controller across the room. "Y'cheatin' little motherfuckin' shit!" He was just a gold mine of profanity and though he wasn't exactly angry at Sammy, he was angry that he lost, but yelling at the game wouldn't accomplish anything. Yelling at Sammy, however, was always jolly good fun! How fun? Well, Vincent's grin belied his angry words, and he shoved Sammy off of the couch.

Vincent followed Sammy down to the floor and promptly sat upon him, pinning him. "Y'wasn't s'pposed t'win, Jackass!" He stated, crossing his arms over his chest in a way similar to a disappointed child. Sore Loser? That's an understatement. Vincent's massive ego declared that he be nothing but victorious in all that he attempted (which usually was the case, but today the fates had frowned upon him) and as much as he loved having his ego stroked, he hated having it take a blow even more. "'m gunna hafta kill ya now... Or make y'eat that controller." He grabbed Sammy's controller and brandished at him in a way as threatening as he could manage. "Or 'ma shove it up ya ass. SIDEWAYS!"

[Samuel Rixon]

It was precisely because Vincent’s ego was so massive that Sam enjoyed putting him in his place now and again. Sometimes, watching Vincent tell himself he was sexy, or watching him strut and announcing his ass was great, or his abs were glorious, well... it got a little tiresome. Though Sam couldn’t honestly best him in body comparisons, he could damn well give him a run for his money when it came to video games. It was even better that his revenge came while Vin was weaving around like a dork.

“AWWW YEAH!” He was going to celebrate with a massive swig of whiskey, but then Vincent moved and threw the controller. Now, he’d seen these fits of anger before. They usually only lasted as long as it took for Ember to yell at them and pull them off each other. But there was a problem now. Ember wasn’t here. “HEY. IT AIN’T CHEATIN’!” But that was as far as he got with his protests because then Vincent pushed him onto the floor.

He would have gotten up and defended himself, but then Vincent was on top of him, pinning him down. He squirmed under Vincent’s hold, struggling to get free. “’EY ‘EY ‘EY! GETOFFAME.” When Vin crossed his arms, Sammy tried to shove him. Not that it did any good. His eyes went a little wild when the controller was torn from his hand, even more so when he heard the threat. “Fuck NO.” He struggled harder, swatting at Vincent in a vain attempt to get rid of him. “Don’t! FUCKIN’ LEAVE MY ASS ALONE YOU FUCKING PAEDO.” ... Yes. Vincent is a paedo, apparently. Please, someone, save him.