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

The Sleepover From Hell - Part Deux

We wait by the school's counselor's office — which I've been told has been empty for years, but since nobody ever goes to see him, it has yet to be noticed — and slip into the vent as soon as we can. 

Well, Brayden and I slip in. Hayden is so big that he can't get in. He can only get his torso in while having his legs dangle out. Prime for toe-nibbling by an errant demon. But that's what he gets for, again, being a head-balling bitch, and he knows it. I can see the fear in his eyes. 

"this place is a hole," says Brayden, kicking the bag of underwear I use for a pillow. And yes, before you ask, the bag is made of leather. "doesn't even have a bath."

"I-I-I think it's pretty cozy, brother," says Hayden, or rather, blubbers. He is shaking like a big, meaty leaf. "Smells nice, too." 

"Thanks, it's my sweat," I say. 

Brayden, being the smallest, and thus, the one with more space, tosses himself on top of the pillow face down, moving his legs back and forth like, well, a schoolboy. Nothing odd there, besides using my ballstraps as a cushion. "smells like versace. nice." 

I sit down between him and Hayden. Sure is getting hot here. "You okay, Hayden? Looking kinda pale." 

"I-I-I'm good, brother," he stammers, now shaking so hard that the entire vent was shaking with us. "I'm just, you know, not good with tight places, and this is a pretty tight hole. I'm a big boy. I like big holes, you know. Wiggle room."

"Bro, you even think before you speak?" I say. 

"he don't have no sense of self-awareness," says Brayden, trying to fluff my cotton undies. "ask him about how he chooses the best sausage for a jambalaya. i dare you."

Hayden pipes in almost immediately. No trace of fear or hesitation remains in his voice now. "Oh, not this again! I told you that I take andouilles very seriously. The sausage has to be long, but thin, so it can fit in your mouth. Slightly salty, with a rounded tip, and very chunky. What's wrong with that?" 

He has to be doing this on purpose. 

"Nevermind," I interrupt before this platonic sleepover becomes a boy-love den. "So, Brayden."

"sup," he chimes. 

"You're the expert in sleepovers. What do we do now?" 

"not take a bath, apparently," he sneers. 

"C'mon, brother," says Hayden, "don't be knocking Ayden's tight hole." 

And that is the quote on the night, folks. 

A sound cuts through the conversation like a hot knife against even hotter butter, both of which are things you don't really want to have at hand. It raises more questions than answers. Very difficult to use as well. 

The sound is one I'm very familiar with, since I've been hearing it since I made this vent a home. "Don't worry. That's just the raccoon family that lives just beyond." 

"Raccoons?!" says Hayden. Or rather, he squeals. "Are they dangerous?! Don't they have, like, rabies and shit?"

"raccoons are the sanitation workers of the animal world, dick," chimes Brayden. "i assure you that they're cleaner than you." 

"Doesn't that mean they handle trash all day?" 

"and we thank them for their service," says Brayden, turning around to the deep end of the vent. "thank you for your hard work, trash pandas!"

And that's the end of it. I hope. 

"If you say so, brother," says Hayden. "So, no bath. What else?"

Brayden takes a second to think, which turns into a minute, which turns into a few more additional seconds. I swear, one of these days, if he keeps thinking that hard, he's gonna lit his head on fire. "oh, oh, snacks! we need snacks! can't have a sleepover without snacks. got anything around here?"