CHAPTER 18: Hotdog Sweater-Vests & Pity Bludgeonings

"Alright Amber, while Steve has the terrorist fellow distracted, you and I can sneak out the back!"  Wally whimpered, as macho as he could muster.

"Er..."  Amber erred.

"What?  Too risky?"

"Well, it’s just that... well..."

"Too dangerous?"

"It's just that me 'n Fred are kinda dating..."

"What!?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?  He wasn't ALWAYS like this y'know..."

"What, he wasn't always strapping dynamite to his chest and making demands?"

"Well, when we were younger he used hot dogs."

"I... what?"

"Budget."

"What did he... no... wait, I... look, this isn't really relevant right now..."

Ronald came briefly out from behind his cover "I suppose this is why you didn't want to start with the demands, Amber?"

"Well, yeah" Amber mumbled.

"Kinda alienates you from people, when you threaten to blow them up and such."

" I've noticed that."  She mumbled some more.

"There are better ways to make friends"

"Like sleeping with lots of people?" She asked, perking up.

"Er... well, that's a step up from blowing lots of people... up... anyway..."

"Yeah, I read that in a teen magazine, that I should like, be thinner, and like, sleep with lots of people ‘n stuff…  At first I thought it was total like, bull ‘n stuff?  But now… now I’m actually considering starting a new life... a promiscuous life...  a life of sin...  it was the way your friend Dave..."

"Wally."

"What?"

"His name's Wally, he just said Dave because he's an idiot."

"...oh.  Well, it was the way your friend... Wally... said 'Girlfriend'.  It just really made me want to sleep with him."

"Wally passed out.  This caused his eyeballs to roll back into his head, and stare angrily at his inner suave, as if to say 'squisshy squishy squort', which is as close as something without a mouth could ever get, to saying I told you I had the moves baby, just stand back, and let me get my groove on"

"Dave!?" Amber squealed, noticing Wally's sudden loss of consciousness.

"Wally." Ronald reminded, softly.

"Oh right.  God, is he ok!?"

"He's probably just had a little too much stress lately.  Look, were you serious about dating el-dynamite-o over there?"

"Well, yeah.  I mean, it's not that serious, but I was serious when I said it..."

"It’s just that I was considering beating him unconscious so as to avoid becoming a rather blown apart bum."

"What about the rest of you?"

"No, I mean, I'm homeless."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"…Well...  I guess it'd be alright then." Amber sighed.

"Sorry?"

"I mean, I guess it'd be alright if you beat up Fred, y'know, considering."

"Considering?"

"Well, yeah."

"Wait a second…” Ronald shook his finger angrily “I don't want your pity bludgeonings... Just because I'm homeless doesn't mean you have to feel sorry for me, or obligated to let me beat up your boyfriend."

"No, it’s not that... it’s not..."

"Yeah, whatever.  Never mind, I'm not even going to hit him now."

"No, go ahead, I don't even like him."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No, I mean, the sex is great, don't get me wrong, he does things to me that take weeks to wear off, but..."

"But there's no emotional attachment."

"Well, it’s hard to get committed to a guy who's so ready to blow himself up all the time."

"Does this fairly often, does he?"

"All the time.  We rarely make it through a movie these days."

"That bad eh?"

"Yeah, I was probably going to break it off with him anyway."