The Bad Boys' Soft Boys' Lonely Hearts Club - The Full Package

The Warfare Deception

At some point during the party, they decided to go to taco bells. Mexican food, like crimes against humanity. Are something you can't just have one of. Those taquito platters made them hungry for more. 

It made them trash the place, because school seniors are just shy of being shit-flinging baboons at a zoo, and it ain't because school is not a demeaning jail where people gawk and say how smart they are for learning simple tool use. Honestly, I think humanity itself was a mistake, and we should all reject that and return to monkey. 

But, as always, I'm digressing, which for one I do prefer, since it at least distracts me from the off-white stain on the club couch. 

"So, sour cream or cum?" I ask, poking the stain with a pencil. 

Brayden, ever so curious, starts sniffing and scratching. "dunno, but there is only one way to find out." 

If you guess that he licks it, you would be mistaken. He makes Jungkook lick it. 

"Hey, it's Nivea Cream!" he says. How does he know what it tastes like is beyond me. I guess his shiny skin has to come from somewhere. 

"dibs!" yells Brayden, jumping on the couch and grabbing a single nacho from the floor, using it to scoop up the cream and what the hell is he doing? 

"Hey, brother?" says Hayden, now holding a tiny bucket and a pair of tongs. The kitchen variety, not the bedroom ones. Very necessary to make a distinction, since he is holding thongs in his tongs. Also, why a pair if it is one thong? Seems like a semantic nightmare. "What are you doing?" 

"eating some good ass cream," he says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "aren't youse some kinda food wizard person?" 

"It's not that type of cream. It is a face cream," corrects Hayden. "I've seen you use cream in your face before."

"duh, sour cream," he says while glomping a dollop of Nivea. "you know what good lactobacillus bacteria do to your pores? makes my face feel like a freely made baby butt, and also delicious, 'cuz I'm a snacc." 

That explains why the three of them smell like sour cream. See, that's what we call a callback. Semantics rules, y'all. 

"No, you eat sour cream, and put cream lotion in your face," says Hayden, grabbing a goop and putting it on his face. And then, silence. A silence that echoed through space and time to inspire one Simon and Garfunkle song. "Brayden."

"that's what momma called me."

"This is not face cream, and no sour cream either. I'll fill you with some of my homemade cream so you can understand the true satisfaction of a good whipping."

"Okay, that's enough cream talk for a day," I say, tossing used condoms and party poppers away. Wait, no, they're not condoms, they're balloons. Balloons full of whatever off-white substance they smeared all over everything. Oddly enough, not on my underwear pile. "If you have time to speak, you have time to clean." 

Empty bottles of beer, a half-chugged José Cuervo, the remnants of someone trying to snort pixie sticks, all tell the most awful tale: that these people are are both cringe and going to hell. Good to know the future of this country is one kegstand away from madness. Maybe Spanish television is right. All teenagers want to do is drugs, sex, and skinny jeans. 

"man, this blows," says Brayden who, in spite of knowing it definitely wasn't cream, he's still eating it while Jungkook and Harry are cleaning around him. "why do we gotta clean after this thing? i'm the messy boy, i'm the one who gets cleaned after!"

All eyes go directly to Okayden, huddled in a corner, eating the garbage we are putting in a pile. He must feel it, for he composes himself and gives us a small soliloquy. That's artsy fartsy for external monologue.