Post by lostandtorn616 on Apr 8, 2007 9:34:04 GMT -5
Disclaimer: Do I look like a middle-aged man with a creative imagination? I think not. So please, for my sake, and what remains of my sanity, enjoy this story! Also, Pamela Anderson endured no harm during the making of this story; I don’t hate blondes, say for the stereotypical ones.
Note: I’ve named my journal (or diary if you wanna call it that. ^_^) Sae-chan. Why? Because that is what I’ve dubbed it in real life. *Crickets chirp* OH SHUT UP! You would’ve done the same had you folks been in my shoes, dying from sheer boredom, and in HISTORY CLASS, no less!
Things You Should Know
About Kisame’s personality: I reckon Kisame would be the sadistic type of shark-man. To be honest, I can’t imagine him having an “innocent playful” side to his persona, but I guess he would probably make an exception for a select few people; one such person is you Maria-chan (if you’re reading this at the moment, then it is purely intended for your pleasure, and if you are then I hope you don’t mind), and the reason being is because you’re the only female smart enough, or brave enough, to get him back with a few pranks of your own.
Remember dudes and dudettes: double the torment, double the fun!
How Itachi Will Be Portrayed: I have the feeling that I’ll screw up on Itachi sooner or later (if I don’t, it’ll be a blessing from above). So, if such a thing occurs, please remember that I’ve never actually DONE Itachi before; I will try to the best of my ability not to mess up his reaction and such, though usually stoic, or anything of the nature.
Like with Kisame and Maria-chan, Itachi will be – to put it as nicely as I possibly can – tormenting Crazy-chan because she, unlike most females in this story, can put up with his antics for an extended period of time.
... Yeah... It’ll make more sense when you guys actually read the prankster parts.
Last But Not Least, Gaara-sama: Okay, let’s get a few things down and pat with the almighty Sabaku no Gaara, shall we? First off, since I feel like a pedophile for liking a psychopathic, sadistic, mass-murdering, and downright hot pre-teen (and I’m currently obsessed with him), I’ve made Gaara-sama older. Due to my standards, in order for a girl suffering from a few things (like myself) to have a proper “relationship” with him, in my book, he would have to be the age I set him at: eighteen to twenty years old.
... As for anything else I intended to say formerly, I second-guessed myself. So, the paragraphs above are all you need to know... for now, anyway.
Everything else will be imputed in further chapters; if you watch the show, or read the manga, then you can surmise what the future events will hold, when it comes down to Gaara, Itachi, and Kisame and how they act, think, and so on and so forth.
Note: I am prone to unpredictable bouts of insanity. So deal! *Glomps reader*
“Talking”
Thinking to oneself
Emphasis
Shouting
-Whispering-
Writing
“Crazy-chan! Crazy-chan! Hold up for a minute, would ya?!”
Lisa, or Crazy-chan, as she preferred to be called, forcibly tore her brown-gray eyes away from a very explicit-looking scene involving two men in the recent manga volume she purchased just yesterday with her hard-earned money, despite her utter, sometimes unrelenting, irritation she had for the manager; only a select handful of people could give her such a ridiculous nickname and get away with it, walking away with all of their limbs attached to their bodies, and their sanity still intact, in the process.
Other than her friends, however, “they” always came within the restricted five feet radius of personal space she put up as a blockade ever since the first day, to prevent the rampaging mob of idiotic morons who plagued the school hallways from either stalking her at night, reciting a few cheesy pick-up lines in the form of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, or traumatizing her for life.
She absentmindedly shuddered as a tiny bad-assed voice in the back of her obsessive, Yaoi-related thoughts cackled in maniacal glee at the thought of “them”, parked outside in the school’s lot and tossing jeering insults at her and anyone else who was a part of her ‘clique’.
She didn’t find it very amusing whenever she was unfortunate enough as to be walking home, her nose buried in some sort of manga book or another, and “they” came racing down the street at break-neck speed; gray smoke would billow out of the windows after being rolled down, clogging her nose and clamp its way down into her lungs, leaving her standing there hacking and coughing, eyes watering, burning.
It only made the so-called incident worse in comparison when the one called Deidara honked the horn, leaned out the driver’s side of the window, (where someone who, as far as she was aware, went by the last name of Uchiha and often was the designated driver) and shouted for everyone within a five block radius to hear: “Look everybody, it’s the Queer Eye for a Bi girl, yeah!”
Her temporary dismay shifted to self-satisfaction, forcing back an evil giggle as she returned to her beloved cartoon-y manga, idly turning a page, completely forgetting that someone had been calling out to her, and now she was being pushed, bumped like a human pinball into the lockers, and degrading insults tossed so casually at her like a rotten old, overly-used, and worn out cliché.
The only positive side about that particular memory was that her traveling companion idly glanced at Lisa’s tormentor, blinked once, twice, three times, then sneered. “Look Crazy-chan, it’s the Crooked Eye for a Bilingual guy, yeah!” She cooed like a baby, mocking Deidara; to say he had been embarrassed would’ve been a severe understatement.
It was similar to the treatment she’d agonized her way through on the first day.
“Excuse me.”
A soft voice came through, barely audible admits the chit-chatter and early-bird morning excitement buzzing just outside the principal’s office, an unknown tone that seemed to fit well with a boyly girl, or it may have been a new male student, but with a high-pitched voice; the owner to that guttural sound sighed irritably and, having had enough of the tiresome charade (in the morning and it was only the first day of classes), promptly stomped up to the busty blonde giggling in front of her and shoved her away from whomever or whatever she was gawking at.
“Learn to say ‘pardon my intrusion’ sometime so that others won’t feel so insignificant to a Barbie look-a-like such as yourself, you filthy whore!”
“What’s your problem, you man-on-man-loving Dyke?!” She whirled around, baby blue gems flashing menacingly, as if she had just been presented with the worst, most foulest, species ever to plague the Earth; chances were, if the new girl had wagered a thousand dollars on that presumption alone, she would’ve won three times that amount.
“Other than you and having bothered to gaze at the load of human trash you call friends? A lot of things; now move!” she hissed, augmentation coursing and burning wildly through her veins as she gave the blonde yet another shove, more harder and intended to harm than the first; how women like the one putting her hands on her hips were created to help populate the human race, she would never understand that sentiment.
Just when she was about to walk up to the secretary – a green-haired, aqua-eyed woman, no older than twenty-three, sporting small spectacles, and a warm, motherly smile – and ask her for her textbooks, along with other school materials, Silvana beat her to it; snatching her black, over cover, bag off the secure position on her shoulder, grinning a crow-like sneer as she lifted it above her head.
“I’m not in the mood to play along with your antics. Give me my bag back, if you would be so kind.”
She idly raised her brown-gray sights, glinting malevolently, silently promising a year’s worth of harm if she didn’t start being a good girl in the next three seconds; of course she knew better than to cause trouble on her first day, but she felt the blonde creature-of-habit, coupled with the stereotyped behavioral patterns of idiocy and ignorance, needed a good kick in the rump to help provoke a kind word here and there.
“What’s wrong? Miss Priss I-Wanna-See-Two-Men-Fuck doesn’t want her icky, little schoolgirl baggie back?”
She just stared, only blinking a few times, but she wasn’t about to give a leaping jump for her bag, knowing well that the blonde dolt would hoist it up higher above her aim of reach, or begin a game of Keep Away From The Yaoi-Loving Maniac; she had a habit of disappointing people, a habit that wasn’t likely to fade anytime soon.
“Return it. Now.” she uttered in a diabolic sonority; a cloud of impending doom hovered above her head, now feeling very tempted to make good of her mute threats.
“Silvana, that’s quite enough.” A deep, dark, smooth and very masculine voice boomed lowly and, like Moses parting the waves of the sea to help free the Egyptian people from life-long enslavement, the students broke out into equal-sized halves, making way for five boys; two with black hair and charcoal eyes, a lone blonde with blue eyes, a brunette with strange lilac-white eyes, and a redhead with jade green eyes who stared eerily at her, as if trying to assure himself she posed no threat whatsoever.
“But... but, Itachi-san, she was the one who-” The one called ‘Itachi’ raised a hand, as though to silence her; which, in fact, he did for she clamped her mouth shut that was smothered in a cherry-red foundation.
“I said that it was quite enough, Silvana; don’t force me to repeat myself. You already remain well aware of the consequences that will follow should you be so foolish as to disregard a direct order, correct?”
Cold perspire started to break out on the blonde’s forehead, two lone beads trickled down to her chin, licking her jawline; apparently, she knew what the true arcane meaning behind his words meant, for she swallowed hard immediately afterwards.
He – Itachi – nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Now leave.”
Everyone within a five-mile radius, in or around the principal and vice-principal’s office, ran for the hills – or hallways, in their case.
“I apologize for Silvana’s agnostic behavior, Miss.”
“Don’t refer to me as ‘Miss’. Ever. If you want to refer to me as a human being and not a tool for your sadistic pleasure, then call me by my given name: Lisa.” she replied tartly, crossing her arms over her chest.
This time, he smirked, a tinge of what could be dubbed as sheer amusement flickered across his chiseled visage for a brief moment, then died and replicated by that vacant expression he had worn; the redhead’s cold, calculating look had never wavered, not for a second, like it was a fashion statement that he considered plausibly useful; the brunette stared her down as well, though he didn’t seem as malevolent, or disturbing, to look at.
Behind Itachi, a blue-skinned, (or was it gray-blue-skinned?) gargantuan man let out a deep chortle, displaying carnivorous, triangular teeth. “Heh, looks like we have a feisty one here, Itachi-san.” His companion’s tiny smirk widened, if only temporarily.
“Well then, Lisa, allow me to apologize again for Silvana troubling you.”
“I could’ve done without it, thank you.”
“Such a ungrateful little wretch you are.” This time it was the younger look-a-like of Itachi who spoke.
“Now, now, Sasuke. Is that any way to speak to a pretty little thing such as her? Where are your manners?”
Lisa blinked, completely stunned, and could only look on as the lone blonde in the group snatched her schoolbag off the ground after Silvana had dropped it while she stampeded out the door, presenting it eagerly like a house-broken Golden Retriever.
“Here’s your bag, Lisa-chan! Oh, and I’m Naruto Uzumaki! Believe it!” He grinned as she took her bag – though it seemed a bit forced.
“Moron. Don’t you think that she’s scared out of her wits just by looking at you?”
“Shut up, teme!”
“Itachi-san, shall we be on our way now? I have a few personal matters to attend to.”
Itachi nodded. “Very well. Sasuke has told me that you’ve found a new ‘Favorite’. Is what my little brother informed me of true, Kisame-san?”
“Yes, Itachi-san; she’s proven to be a constant source for my amusement.” The rest of their conversation went unheard as they left.
Again, Lisa blinked, this time in pure bewilderment; oblivious to the chatter occurring amongst her, girls and boys alike bombarding her with questions, questions that she didn’t have the answers for.
“How could THE Itachi Uchiha call YOU a pretty little thing?”
“What are you, his future wife or something?”
“You’re just the new girl for God’s sake! What have YOU got that none of us don’t?!”
“How could he do that!? We’ve dedicated a Fan Club to him!!”
She found herself unable to speak; a light blush slowly made itself across her face.
She sighed, turning another page, burying her face deeper into her Yaoi manga as the same blush that had manifested itself against her will threatened to spill from out underneath her pores; it’s just like every other day here, go figure. ... Man, that Itachi was one weird dude; a cute weird dude.
“Crazy-chan! Crazy-chan! Have you gone deaf or what; I called out to you three times, now totaling six!”
Now that deserved her divided attention... once she finally recognized whose voice it was.
She stopped to lean against a random locker, hopefully hers, one brown-gray pupil fixated intensely on the two anime men sharing a long, heart-racing, lip-lock and their hands wandering towards each others’ nether regions, the other lazily drifting sideways to stare blankly at her recently acquired... Acquaintance? Friend?
She wasn’t sure which category to sort the girl into yet, considering that she hadn’t known her for very long; six weeks tops, but she was a nice girl; in actuality, however, the way she acted to friend and foe alike depended solely on her unpredictable moodswings.
All she knew was that the girl had, surprisingly, found her obsession with anything relating to Yaoi, and writing stories which involved Yaoi, was “so drop-dead-fucking-adorable it would make Hitler piss himself with gaiety while sitting at the table reserved for other megalomaniacs, and giggling with girlish delight”.
Or so she had said.
Her friendly acquaintance pressed her right hand – coincidently, it was the very same hand used to dump what was left of the questionable cafeteria meal that she had adamantly refused to consume, consisting of mashed potatoes and turkey gravy, mixed with skimmed, non-fat milk and week-old orange juice over Sesori’s head at lunch yesterday for “looking at you the wrong way” – on the locker adjacent to the one Lisa was pressing her back into.
Her breathing was labored, shallow, her bony shoulders quaking with every shuddering breath she took, her free hand grasping a hold of a thick notebook, solely for the purpose of writing, her precious sketchbook barely held within the grasp of her pointer and middle fingers.
“Hey, Crazy-chan! Did you hear the latest news circulating among us girls in Toy Corner?” She snapped her head up, grinning that infamous half-mad smile of hers, revealing abrupt canines, and letting out a dry chuckle after a moment’s pause; her eyes glinted maliciously, releasing an automatic whoosh of much needed air, before inhaling and exhaling cruelly.
“No, Sharon.” Lisa replied, returning to her beloved Yaoi manga, both eyes now staring with the utmost concentration as if it were some illegal, highly addictive narcotics she had purchased for a measly five dollars.
“Hitomi told me that Hoshigaki Kisame pulled a fast one on little Mia-chan. Again.”
“Really?” She murmured, half in curiosity, half in irritation at Maria’s relentless stalker-freak. “And what, pray tell, did Maria-chan’s ‘smexy shark boy’ manage to accomplish this time?”
“Other than crossing an invisible line no sane man alive should dare tread across? ... I don’t know...”
“But...?” She pressed, noticing that Sharon had trailed off eerily.
“But, I daresay Kisame’s done it this time; in my three years attending this blasphemous, earthly hellhole of a prison the government dares to call a school, I ain’t never seen a girl whom that bloated aqua-gray-blue dude’s tormented so livid before.”
“Then Maria should be thrilled Kisame-san showers her with so much attention like he does; I thought she lived for recognition, good or bad.”
“Yeah, well, if you feel that way, maybe you should tell that to her in Science; not me.”
More in next chapter; a continuation of what I had for this since it was waaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy too long. Go figure. xD
*Melodramactic music starts to play* DUN DUN DUUUUUUNNNNNNN!!! *Runs around in circles as a chibi*
Note: I’ve named my journal (or diary if you wanna call it that. ^_^) Sae-chan. Why? Because that is what I’ve dubbed it in real life. *Crickets chirp* OH SHUT UP! You would’ve done the same had you folks been in my shoes, dying from sheer boredom, and in HISTORY CLASS, no less!
Things You Should Know
About Kisame’s personality: I reckon Kisame would be the sadistic type of shark-man. To be honest, I can’t imagine him having an “innocent playful” side to his persona, but I guess he would probably make an exception for a select few people; one such person is you Maria-chan (if you’re reading this at the moment, then it is purely intended for your pleasure, and if you are then I hope you don’t mind), and the reason being is because you’re the only female smart enough, or brave enough, to get him back with a few pranks of your own.
Remember dudes and dudettes: double the torment, double the fun!
How Itachi Will Be Portrayed: I have the feeling that I’ll screw up on Itachi sooner or later (if I don’t, it’ll be a blessing from above). So, if such a thing occurs, please remember that I’ve never actually DONE Itachi before; I will try to the best of my ability not to mess up his reaction and such, though usually stoic, or anything of the nature.
Like with Kisame and Maria-chan, Itachi will be – to put it as nicely as I possibly can – tormenting Crazy-chan because she, unlike most females in this story, can put up with his antics for an extended period of time.
... Yeah... It’ll make more sense when you guys actually read the prankster parts.
Last But Not Least, Gaara-sama: Okay, let’s get a few things down and pat with the almighty Sabaku no Gaara, shall we? First off, since I feel like a pedophile for liking a psychopathic, sadistic, mass-murdering, and downright hot pre-teen (and I’m currently obsessed with him), I’ve made Gaara-sama older. Due to my standards, in order for a girl suffering from a few things (like myself) to have a proper “relationship” with him, in my book, he would have to be the age I set him at: eighteen to twenty years old.
... As for anything else I intended to say formerly, I second-guessed myself. So, the paragraphs above are all you need to know... for now, anyway.
Everything else will be imputed in further chapters; if you watch the show, or read the manga, then you can surmise what the future events will hold, when it comes down to Gaara, Itachi, and Kisame and how they act, think, and so on and so forth.
Note: I am prone to unpredictable bouts of insanity. So deal! *Glomps reader*
“Talking”
Thinking to oneself
Emphasis
Shouting
-Whispering-
Writing
~START!~
“Crazy-chan! Crazy-chan! Hold up for a minute, would ya?!”
Lisa, or Crazy-chan, as she preferred to be called, forcibly tore her brown-gray eyes away from a very explicit-looking scene involving two men in the recent manga volume she purchased just yesterday with her hard-earned money, despite her utter, sometimes unrelenting, irritation she had for the manager; only a select handful of people could give her such a ridiculous nickname and get away with it, walking away with all of their limbs attached to their bodies, and their sanity still intact, in the process.
Other than her friends, however, “they” always came within the restricted five feet radius of personal space she put up as a blockade ever since the first day, to prevent the rampaging mob of idiotic morons who plagued the school hallways from either stalking her at night, reciting a few cheesy pick-up lines in the form of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, or traumatizing her for life.
She absentmindedly shuddered as a tiny bad-assed voice in the back of her obsessive, Yaoi-related thoughts cackled in maniacal glee at the thought of “them”, parked outside in the school’s lot and tossing jeering insults at her and anyone else who was a part of her ‘clique’.
She didn’t find it very amusing whenever she was unfortunate enough as to be walking home, her nose buried in some sort of manga book or another, and “they” came racing down the street at break-neck speed; gray smoke would billow out of the windows after being rolled down, clogging her nose and clamp its way down into her lungs, leaving her standing there hacking and coughing, eyes watering, burning.
It only made the so-called incident worse in comparison when the one called Deidara honked the horn, leaned out the driver’s side of the window, (where someone who, as far as she was aware, went by the last name of Uchiha and often was the designated driver) and shouted for everyone within a five block radius to hear: “Look everybody, it’s the Queer Eye for a Bi girl, yeah!”
Her temporary dismay shifted to self-satisfaction, forcing back an evil giggle as she returned to her beloved cartoon-y manga, idly turning a page, completely forgetting that someone had been calling out to her, and now she was being pushed, bumped like a human pinball into the lockers, and degrading insults tossed so casually at her like a rotten old, overly-used, and worn out cliché.
The only positive side about that particular memory was that her traveling companion idly glanced at Lisa’s tormentor, blinked once, twice, three times, then sneered. “Look Crazy-chan, it’s the Crooked Eye for a Bilingual guy, yeah!” She cooed like a baby, mocking Deidara; to say he had been embarrassed would’ve been a severe understatement.
It was similar to the treatment she’d agonized her way through on the first day.
~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~
“Excuse me.”
A soft voice came through, barely audible admits the chit-chatter and early-bird morning excitement buzzing just outside the principal’s office, an unknown tone that seemed to fit well with a boyly girl, or it may have been a new male student, but with a high-pitched voice; the owner to that guttural sound sighed irritably and, having had enough of the tiresome charade (in the morning and it was only the first day of classes), promptly stomped up to the busty blonde giggling in front of her and shoved her away from whomever or whatever she was gawking at.
“Learn to say ‘pardon my intrusion’ sometime so that others won’t feel so insignificant to a Barbie look-a-like such as yourself, you filthy whore!”
“What’s your problem, you man-on-man-loving Dyke?!” She whirled around, baby blue gems flashing menacingly, as if she had just been presented with the worst, most foulest, species ever to plague the Earth; chances were, if the new girl had wagered a thousand dollars on that presumption alone, she would’ve won three times that amount.
“Other than you and having bothered to gaze at the load of human trash you call friends? A lot of things; now move!” she hissed, augmentation coursing and burning wildly through her veins as she gave the blonde yet another shove, more harder and intended to harm than the first; how women like the one putting her hands on her hips were created to help populate the human race, she would never understand that sentiment.
Just when she was about to walk up to the secretary – a green-haired, aqua-eyed woman, no older than twenty-three, sporting small spectacles, and a warm, motherly smile – and ask her for her textbooks, along with other school materials, Silvana beat her to it; snatching her black, over cover, bag off the secure position on her shoulder, grinning a crow-like sneer as she lifted it above her head.
“I’m not in the mood to play along with your antics. Give me my bag back, if you would be so kind.”
She idly raised her brown-gray sights, glinting malevolently, silently promising a year’s worth of harm if she didn’t start being a good girl in the next three seconds; of course she knew better than to cause trouble on her first day, but she felt the blonde creature-of-habit, coupled with the stereotyped behavioral patterns of idiocy and ignorance, needed a good kick in the rump to help provoke a kind word here and there.
“What’s wrong? Miss Priss I-Wanna-See-Two-Men-Fuck doesn’t want her icky, little schoolgirl baggie back?”
She just stared, only blinking a few times, but she wasn’t about to give a leaping jump for her bag, knowing well that the blonde dolt would hoist it up higher above her aim of reach, or begin a game of Keep Away From The Yaoi-Loving Maniac; she had a habit of disappointing people, a habit that wasn’t likely to fade anytime soon.
“Return it. Now.” she uttered in a diabolic sonority; a cloud of impending doom hovered above her head, now feeling very tempted to make good of her mute threats.
“Silvana, that’s quite enough.” A deep, dark, smooth and very masculine voice boomed lowly and, like Moses parting the waves of the sea to help free the Egyptian people from life-long enslavement, the students broke out into equal-sized halves, making way for five boys; two with black hair and charcoal eyes, a lone blonde with blue eyes, a brunette with strange lilac-white eyes, and a redhead with jade green eyes who stared eerily at her, as if trying to assure himself she posed no threat whatsoever.
“But... but, Itachi-san, she was the one who-” The one called ‘Itachi’ raised a hand, as though to silence her; which, in fact, he did for she clamped her mouth shut that was smothered in a cherry-red foundation.
“I said that it was quite enough, Silvana; don’t force me to repeat myself. You already remain well aware of the consequences that will follow should you be so foolish as to disregard a direct order, correct?”
Cold perspire started to break out on the blonde’s forehead, two lone beads trickled down to her chin, licking her jawline; apparently, she knew what the true arcane meaning behind his words meant, for she swallowed hard immediately afterwards.
He – Itachi – nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Now leave.”
Everyone within a five-mile radius, in or around the principal and vice-principal’s office, ran for the hills – or hallways, in their case.
“I apologize for Silvana’s agnostic behavior, Miss.”
“Don’t refer to me as ‘Miss’. Ever. If you want to refer to me as a human being and not a tool for your sadistic pleasure, then call me by my given name: Lisa.” she replied tartly, crossing her arms over her chest.
This time, he smirked, a tinge of what could be dubbed as sheer amusement flickered across his chiseled visage for a brief moment, then died and replicated by that vacant expression he had worn; the redhead’s cold, calculating look had never wavered, not for a second, like it was a fashion statement that he considered plausibly useful; the brunette stared her down as well, though he didn’t seem as malevolent, or disturbing, to look at.
Behind Itachi, a blue-skinned, (or was it gray-blue-skinned?) gargantuan man let out a deep chortle, displaying carnivorous, triangular teeth. “Heh, looks like we have a feisty one here, Itachi-san.” His companion’s tiny smirk widened, if only temporarily.
“Well then, Lisa, allow me to apologize again for Silvana troubling you.”
“I could’ve done without it, thank you.”
“Such a ungrateful little wretch you are.” This time it was the younger look-a-like of Itachi who spoke.
“Now, now, Sasuke. Is that any way to speak to a pretty little thing such as her? Where are your manners?”
Lisa blinked, completely stunned, and could only look on as the lone blonde in the group snatched her schoolbag off the ground after Silvana had dropped it while she stampeded out the door, presenting it eagerly like a house-broken Golden Retriever.
“Here’s your bag, Lisa-chan! Oh, and I’m Naruto Uzumaki! Believe it!” He grinned as she took her bag – though it seemed a bit forced.
“Moron. Don’t you think that she’s scared out of her wits just by looking at you?”
“Shut up, teme!”
“Itachi-san, shall we be on our way now? I have a few personal matters to attend to.”
Itachi nodded. “Very well. Sasuke has told me that you’ve found a new ‘Favorite’. Is what my little brother informed me of true, Kisame-san?”
“Yes, Itachi-san; she’s proven to be a constant source for my amusement.” The rest of their conversation went unheard as they left.
Again, Lisa blinked, this time in pure bewilderment; oblivious to the chatter occurring amongst her, girls and boys alike bombarding her with questions, questions that she didn’t have the answers for.
“How could THE Itachi Uchiha call YOU a pretty little thing?”
“What are you, his future wife or something?”
“You’re just the new girl for God’s sake! What have YOU got that none of us don’t?!”
“How could he do that!? We’ve dedicated a Fan Club to him!!”
She found herself unable to speak; a light blush slowly made itself across her face.
~~~~~~End Flashback~~~~~~
She sighed, turning another page, burying her face deeper into her Yaoi manga as the same blush that had manifested itself against her will threatened to spill from out underneath her pores; it’s just like every other day here, go figure. ... Man, that Itachi was one weird dude; a cute weird dude.
“Crazy-chan! Crazy-chan! Have you gone deaf or what; I called out to you three times, now totaling six!”
Now that deserved her divided attention... once she finally recognized whose voice it was.
She stopped to lean against a random locker, hopefully hers, one brown-gray pupil fixated intensely on the two anime men sharing a long, heart-racing, lip-lock and their hands wandering towards each others’ nether regions, the other lazily drifting sideways to stare blankly at her recently acquired... Acquaintance? Friend?
She wasn’t sure which category to sort the girl into yet, considering that she hadn’t known her for very long; six weeks tops, but she was a nice girl; in actuality, however, the way she acted to friend and foe alike depended solely on her unpredictable moodswings.
All she knew was that the girl had, surprisingly, found her obsession with anything relating to Yaoi, and writing stories which involved Yaoi, was “so drop-dead-fucking-adorable it would make Hitler piss himself with gaiety while sitting at the table reserved for other megalomaniacs, and giggling with girlish delight”.
Or so she had said.
Her friendly acquaintance pressed her right hand – coincidently, it was the very same hand used to dump what was left of the questionable cafeteria meal that she had adamantly refused to consume, consisting of mashed potatoes and turkey gravy, mixed with skimmed, non-fat milk and week-old orange juice over Sesori’s head at lunch yesterday for “looking at you the wrong way” – on the locker adjacent to the one Lisa was pressing her back into.
Her breathing was labored, shallow, her bony shoulders quaking with every shuddering breath she took, her free hand grasping a hold of a thick notebook, solely for the purpose of writing, her precious sketchbook barely held within the grasp of her pointer and middle fingers.
“Hey, Crazy-chan! Did you hear the latest news circulating among us girls in Toy Corner?” She snapped her head up, grinning that infamous half-mad smile of hers, revealing abrupt canines, and letting out a dry chuckle after a moment’s pause; her eyes glinted maliciously, releasing an automatic whoosh of much needed air, before inhaling and exhaling cruelly.
“No, Sharon.” Lisa replied, returning to her beloved Yaoi manga, both eyes now staring with the utmost concentration as if it were some illegal, highly addictive narcotics she had purchased for a measly five dollars.
“Hitomi told me that Hoshigaki Kisame pulled a fast one on little Mia-chan. Again.”
“Really?” She murmured, half in curiosity, half in irritation at Maria’s relentless stalker-freak. “And what, pray tell, did Maria-chan’s ‘smexy shark boy’ manage to accomplish this time?”
“Other than crossing an invisible line no sane man alive should dare tread across? ... I don’t know...”
“But...?” She pressed, noticing that Sharon had trailed off eerily.
“But, I daresay Kisame’s done it this time; in my three years attending this blasphemous, earthly hellhole of a prison the government dares to call a school, I ain’t never seen a girl whom that bloated aqua-gray-blue dude’s tormented so livid before.”
“Then Maria should be thrilled Kisame-san showers her with so much attention like he does; I thought she lived for recognition, good or bad.”
“Yeah, well, if you feel that way, maybe you should tell that to her in Science; not me.”
--------------- Chapter End --------------
More in next chapter; a continuation of what I had for this since it was waaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy too long. Go figure. xD
*Melodramactic music starts to play* DUN DUN DUUUUUUNNNNNNN!!! *Runs around in circles as a chibi*