Its Saturday at the pool, and Grunker stretches his tanned body while he pours gel paste in his hair, checking the mirror to see that his bleached bangs are spiked just the way he and the chicks digs them. By his side is a Sex on the beach (which they jokingly refer to as a sex at the pool, while they laugh like trolls) with a rim of sugar and an azure umbrella.
On the pool itself, floats a pink inflatable mattress where the copper-bodied Wyrmlord lounges with his aviators on, lazily looking into the sky while the straw from his banana daiquiri balances on his lips. From one of his brown ears pops a white iPod headphone, where a muffled Kanye sings of love and life.
"Yo Bro" Says Wyrmlord, while he slowly sips from the sugary drink, "I'm totally hung-over from last night's party"
Wyrmlord sighs and is silent for a few seconds, then he dazedly turns his head; "I know bro, me too. Dude, you think that Puerto Rican chick wanna wax my spicerod?"
"Like totally, bro. Totally. That chick was so into you, she could check you for colon cancer, bro."
"Cool bro. Man that party was blast. That Blobert throws the best shindigs!" Wyrmlord turns down the volume on Kanye, while he scratches his testicles with the other hand.
"Yeah bro, it was like totally awesome and stuff and he knows so many chicks, you know?"
"Yeah, bro, totally rad, yo. You gonna see any of your hos tonite, bro?" Wyrmlord asks while he downs the last of his Daiquiri.
Grunker finishes up his hair and puts away his hand-mirror before he answers with what passes for his serious voice. "No bro, i'm on da lookout for some totally new something, you know? Like some hottie with great big honeymelons you can suckle on for years and years, bro."
"I know it bro!" Says Wyrmlord enthusiastically, "If was over there I'd high five you bro!"
They both laugh loudly and idiotically at this, and Wyrmlord slowly paddles to the shore of the pool using a copy of "Das Kapital" that just happened to be lying about.
With his athletic, toned body he vault securely from the inflatable bathing mattress into the shade of the palm trees where Grunker still sits in the beach chair. He slots in his iPod in the beach blaster and turns up the volume on Nicki Minaj, to which his and Grunker's head start bobbing rhythmically too.
"Where we goin' tonite, bro?" Wyrmlord asks while he positions himself in the white plastic beach chair next to his bro.
"We see what Bloberts got cooking, bro, or else we go to that new club downtown. We get some bottle service and it be like, all good, dude."
"I hear you, bro." Wyrmie leans back and closes his eyes under his sunglasses. He is about to doze off into the great plane of emptiness, when his bro rips him out of it.
"You know bro?" There is a sudden seriousness in Grunker's voice that, somewhere in the furthest reaches of Wyrmies mind, scares him. "I feel kinda bad bro, you know?" He stares melodramatically at Wyrmie, then gazes out over the Mediterranean blue pool with a tortured, dreamy blue eyes.
"No, I don’t know bro. Tell me, bro." Wyrmlord is suddenly scared for their future. "What's wrong?", his mind races just below his level of consciousness. Is someone gonna take my bro from me. Of course these are all unverbalized thoughts in Wyrmie, who just senses something is wrong, but don't know what he fears the most.
"I feel kinda bad, for that guy, you know bro? That Awor guy? Bro, you know?"
"I know bro. I know. He be a good kid, dude. I kinda like him too, but he don’t wanna party, we saw that last night."
Grunker sighs and starts to pluck his eyebrows with some designer pincers. "Yeah I know, bro. Was I wrong to drag him to the party?"
"Nah man, totally not wrong bro. Like my dad said; you can lead a stallion to the mare, but you can't make 'im jump her bones! Besides, he was kinda of a fag you know, bro?"
"Your dad was a fag? How did he get you then? You were pooped out of a mans bumchute?" Grunker looks genuine puzzled and not a little grossed out as he pictures a miniature version of Wyrmie being shat out of giant fags asshole. The vision fazes him so much that even stops plucking his perfectly linear, golden eyebrows.
Wyrmie laughs heartily. "No, you blond bimbo! I meant Awor is kind of a fag! He had a faggy way of talking and he didn't even try to get his carrot peeled. Just stood there in the corner drinking a lame, old beer. That a fag, bro! Fag if I ever saw a fag!"
"Yeah, that is pretty fag. Maybe he is one of dem introwhatchamacallits?"
"Intromafag?"
"No one of those that is the opposite of what we totally are?" Grunker says.
Wyrmie looks at him dully while he makes himself another drink and stretches out his beige bathing trunks. "A fag?"
"No, bro." Grunker has another serious look in his eyes, and somewhere deep in his ice-blue eyes is a gleam of, if not intelligence, then some sort of coherence of thought.
"He is one maybe of them totally introverses, bro!" Deep inside himself, Grunker has a eureka! moment. He feels intensely intellectual at his mastery of language and memory.
Wyrmlord pours kahlua into his glass and mixes it with cream and a nice helping of vodka and ice-cubes. "So?"
"So, we gonna cure him of that! It's gonna be like a quest or a mission, bro! Like something we have to do, bro! Like a sort of knightbro or a jedibro, or something!" Grunker is quite animated and has gotten up from the plastic furniture.
Wyrmie sips his drink, decides for more vodka and pours another generous helping into his glass. A gentle summerbreeze caresses both their toned, perfect bodies, but they don't really notice.
"Look bro" Wyrmie says and shoves his aviators up in his curly black hair, exposing his vibrant brown eyes. "Ain't that too much of a hassle, bro? I mean, it's probably hard and all sorts of stuff. And maybe he don’t wanna get out of his introverse, maybe he's just wanna be an introduction all his life. I say, he wants to be a fag? Then live and let fag!"
Grunker becomes even more animated and Wyrmie notices the pulsation of the veins on his developed muscles and firm, stretchy neck.
"But bro, he don't know! He don't know he wants to be a bro! He just thinks he has to be a fag all his life! Bro, we can help him become a bro, bro! We just gotta do it, bro!"
Wyrmlord sighs while he plays with his icecubes with his long tongue. "And how do we do that, dude? We already took him to the biggest, hottest bash we could!"
Grunker once again slips into a comatose expression that signifies he is wearing his thinking cap. He disappears into that black pit for about a minute, while Wyrmie mixes up another drink and texts the Puerto Rican bitch from last night.
She doesn't text him back.
"I GOT IT!!!!" Grunker screams suddenly as the life returns to his eyes. "I GOT IT BRO!!!
I GOT LOTS OF COOL IDEA…."
Wyrmlord cuts in midsentence:
"BRO! That’s Gangnam Style on the blaster!!!!" he says, as the familiar tunes sets in and the South Korean chubster starts his ranting. Quickly Wyrmie cranks up the knob so that the wonderful sounds fill their ears.
"SWWEEEETTTTTTTT, BRO!" Grunker screams ecstatically and his body starts to boogie all on its own. Wyrmie jumps up out of the beach chair and starts dancing like crazy. They both scream loudly along to the song (despite not knowing what the words mean), particularly at the chorus, and the word "Gangnam style" echoes across the pool and continues past the palm trees on an adventure all of their own. Their bodies bounce up and down, and Wyrmie starts playing the baddest air-guitar in this part of the city, while Grunker shakes his booty and his blond hair.
As the song ends, they are happy and content while still psyched and pumped at the same time.
They both start up new drinks and wipes sweat off their toned bodies.
"That was awesome, bro!" Grunker says while wiping some perspiration of his brow.
"I know, bro. Totally sweet, bro." Wyrmie takes a big gulp of his new Russian.
They are silent for a moment while their chests heaves in excitement. Grunker gets a text from one of his hos, but he doesn't check it.
"Wait!" he suddenly says in a great sort of surprise. "Wasn't we talking about something? Like totally something important, bro?"
Wyrmie looks blankly at him through his sunglasses, which has once again found their place on the bridge of his nose. "What, bro? I don't know, man."
"Oh yeah" Grunker almost screams, "it was that Awor-fag! We were gonna cure him of faggotry, right?"
"I suppose so, bro".
Grunker is once again animated in a glimmering smile. "Yeah bro, I have totally tons of like super ideas of how to turn him into like a bro!"
Wyrmie nods.
"First of we could go to the fag and like talk to him about it, like convince him to try to be a bro and not be such a fag."
Wyrmie nods.
"Second we could like go and like spy on him."
Wyrmie nods, then he seems to think for a moment. "Why, bro?" He finally says.
"I don’t know, bro, i'm just saying what comes into my head. But I have another idea, bro: We call Blobert! Maybe he knows what to do! Or maybe he knows someone who can change fags into bros?"
Wyrmie nods. "Why don’t we call that Christian guy, that humanity has pissing-bro. I hear he change fags."
"Guys a total homo", Grunker says disdainfully.
"Maybe we call ScottishMartialArts and get her to give some tips on what we can do to not get the guy to be such a fag? Grunker once again has an empty look on his face.
"What do you say bro?"
On the pool itself, floats a pink inflatable mattress where the copper-bodied Wyrmlord lounges with his aviators on, lazily looking into the sky while the straw from his banana daiquiri balances on his lips. From one of his brown ears pops a white iPod headphone, where a muffled Kanye sings of love and life.
"Yo Bro" Says Wyrmlord, while he slowly sips from the sugary drink, "I'm totally hung-over from last night's party"
Wyrmlord sighs and is silent for a few seconds, then he dazedly turns his head; "I know bro, me too. Dude, you think that Puerto Rican chick wanna wax my spicerod?"
"Like totally, bro. Totally. That chick was so into you, she could check you for colon cancer, bro."
"Cool bro. Man that party was blast. That Blobert throws the best shindigs!" Wyrmlord turns down the volume on Kanye, while he scratches his testicles with the other hand.
"Yeah bro, it was like totally awesome and stuff and he knows so many chicks, you know?"
"Yeah, bro, totally rad, yo. You gonna see any of your hos tonite, bro?" Wyrmlord asks while he downs the last of his Daiquiri.
Grunker finishes up his hair and puts away his hand-mirror before he answers with what passes for his serious voice. "No bro, i'm on da lookout for some totally new something, you know? Like some hottie with great big honeymelons you can suckle on for years and years, bro."
"I know it bro!" Says Wyrmlord enthusiastically, "If was over there I'd high five you bro!"
They both laugh loudly and idiotically at this, and Wyrmlord slowly paddles to the shore of the pool using a copy of "Das Kapital" that just happened to be lying about.
With his athletic, toned body he vault securely from the inflatable bathing mattress into the shade of the palm trees where Grunker still sits in the beach chair. He slots in his iPod in the beach blaster and turns up the volume on Nicki Minaj, to which his and Grunker's head start bobbing rhythmically too.
"Where we goin' tonite, bro?" Wyrmlord asks while he positions himself in the white plastic beach chair next to his bro.
"We see what Bloberts got cooking, bro, or else we go to that new club downtown. We get some bottle service and it be like, all good, dude."
"I hear you, bro." Wyrmie leans back and closes his eyes under his sunglasses. He is about to doze off into the great plane of emptiness, when his bro rips him out of it.
"You know bro?" There is a sudden seriousness in Grunker's voice that, somewhere in the furthest reaches of Wyrmies mind, scares him. "I feel kinda bad bro, you know?" He stares melodramatically at Wyrmie, then gazes out over the Mediterranean blue pool with a tortured, dreamy blue eyes.
"No, I don’t know bro. Tell me, bro." Wyrmlord is suddenly scared for their future. "What's wrong?", his mind races just below his level of consciousness. Is someone gonna take my bro from me. Of course these are all unverbalized thoughts in Wyrmie, who just senses something is wrong, but don't know what he fears the most.
"I feel kinda bad, for that guy, you know bro? That Awor guy? Bro, you know?"
"I know bro. I know. He be a good kid, dude. I kinda like him too, but he don’t wanna party, we saw that last night."
Grunker sighs and starts to pluck his eyebrows with some designer pincers. "Yeah I know, bro. Was I wrong to drag him to the party?"
"Nah man, totally not wrong bro. Like my dad said; you can lead a stallion to the mare, but you can't make 'im jump her bones! Besides, he was kinda of a fag you know, bro?"
"Your dad was a fag? How did he get you then? You were pooped out of a mans bumchute?" Grunker looks genuine puzzled and not a little grossed out as he pictures a miniature version of Wyrmie being shat out of giant fags asshole. The vision fazes him so much that even stops plucking his perfectly linear, golden eyebrows.
Wyrmie laughs heartily. "No, you blond bimbo! I meant Awor is kind of a fag! He had a faggy way of talking and he didn't even try to get his carrot peeled. Just stood there in the corner drinking a lame, old beer. That a fag, bro! Fag if I ever saw a fag!"
"Yeah, that is pretty fag. Maybe he is one of dem introwhatchamacallits?"
"Intromafag?"
"No one of those that is the opposite of what we totally are?" Grunker says.
Wyrmie looks at him dully while he makes himself another drink and stretches out his beige bathing trunks. "A fag?"
"No, bro." Grunker has another serious look in his eyes, and somewhere deep in his ice-blue eyes is a gleam of, if not intelligence, then some sort of coherence of thought.
"He is one maybe of them totally introverses, bro!" Deep inside himself, Grunker has a eureka! moment. He feels intensely intellectual at his mastery of language and memory.
Wyrmlord pours kahlua into his glass and mixes it with cream and a nice helping of vodka and ice-cubes. "So?"
"So, we gonna cure him of that! It's gonna be like a quest or a mission, bro! Like something we have to do, bro! Like a sort of knightbro or a jedibro, or something!" Grunker is quite animated and has gotten up from the plastic furniture.
Wyrmie sips his drink, decides for more vodka and pours another generous helping into his glass. A gentle summerbreeze caresses both their toned, perfect bodies, but they don't really notice.
"Look bro" Wyrmie says and shoves his aviators up in his curly black hair, exposing his vibrant brown eyes. "Ain't that too much of a hassle, bro? I mean, it's probably hard and all sorts of stuff. And maybe he don’t wanna get out of his introverse, maybe he's just wanna be an introduction all his life. I say, he wants to be a fag? Then live and let fag!"
Grunker becomes even more animated and Wyrmie notices the pulsation of the veins on his developed muscles and firm, stretchy neck.
"But bro, he don't know! He don't know he wants to be a bro! He just thinks he has to be a fag all his life! Bro, we can help him become a bro, bro! We just gotta do it, bro!"
Wyrmlord sighs while he plays with his icecubes with his long tongue. "And how do we do that, dude? We already took him to the biggest, hottest bash we could!"
Grunker once again slips into a comatose expression that signifies he is wearing his thinking cap. He disappears into that black pit for about a minute, while Wyrmie mixes up another drink and texts the Puerto Rican bitch from last night.
She doesn't text him back.
"I GOT IT!!!!" Grunker screams suddenly as the life returns to his eyes. "I GOT IT BRO!!!
I GOT LOTS OF COOL IDEA…."
Wyrmlord cuts in midsentence:
"BRO! That’s Gangnam Style on the blaster!!!!" he says, as the familiar tunes sets in and the South Korean chubster starts his ranting. Quickly Wyrmie cranks up the knob so that the wonderful sounds fill their ears.
"SWWEEEETTTTTTTT, BRO!" Grunker screams ecstatically and his body starts to boogie all on its own. Wyrmie jumps up out of the beach chair and starts dancing like crazy. They both scream loudly along to the song (despite not knowing what the words mean), particularly at the chorus, and the word "Gangnam style" echoes across the pool and continues past the palm trees on an adventure all of their own. Their bodies bounce up and down, and Wyrmie starts playing the baddest air-guitar in this part of the city, while Grunker shakes his booty and his blond hair.
As the song ends, they are happy and content while still psyched and pumped at the same time.
They both start up new drinks and wipes sweat off their toned bodies.
"That was awesome, bro!" Grunker says while wiping some perspiration of his brow.
"I know, bro. Totally sweet, bro." Wyrmie takes a big gulp of his new Russian.
They are silent for a moment while their chests heaves in excitement. Grunker gets a text from one of his hos, but he doesn't check it.
"Wait!" he suddenly says in a great sort of surprise. "Wasn't we talking about something? Like totally something important, bro?"
Wyrmie looks blankly at him through his sunglasses, which has once again found their place on the bridge of his nose. "What, bro? I don't know, man."
"Oh yeah" Grunker almost screams, "it was that Awor-fag! We were gonna cure him of faggotry, right?"
"I suppose so, bro".
Grunker is once again animated in a glimmering smile. "Yeah bro, I have totally tons of like super ideas of how to turn him into like a bro!"
Wyrmie nods.
"First of we could go to the fag and like talk to him about it, like convince him to try to be a bro and not be such a fag."
Wyrmie nods.
"Second we could like go and like spy on him."
Wyrmie nods, then he seems to think for a moment. "Why, bro?" He finally says.
"I don’t know, bro, i'm just saying what comes into my head. But I have another idea, bro: We call Blobert! Maybe he knows what to do! Or maybe he knows someone who can change fags into bros?"
Wyrmie nods. "Why don’t we call that Christian guy, that humanity has pissing-bro. I hear he change fags."
"Guys a total homo", Grunker says disdainfully.
"Maybe we call ScottishMartialArts and get her to give some tips on what we can do to not get the guy to be such a fag? Grunker once again has an empty look on his face.
"What do you say bro?"
