-^-

…

…

…

See, after the whole I-shoved-Taemin-in-dog--and-Minho-basically-commited-suicided ordeal, Tae decides that, “hey, I like those fake left-winged people seeing as they don’t call me Tae, manipulate me, and shove me in dog poop!”

He’s been there for about six hours. This is bad news because left-wingers can only keep up their acts for about six hours.

Then all hell breaks loose. Mainly, their little façade breaks loose, and you see how freaky the can be. They’ll actually tie you up and force into hideous outfits.

I, a victim, would know. Sigh.

So now, I need to play superhero and get the kid out before hell breaks loose. But then I realize, “hey, wait. This’ll be a great lesson for him!”

But then, two days later, I remember he’s still in there.

Yeah. Madame Taemin might fire me for having her son held hostage with the divas and fakes.

For insurance, I drag Minho with me.

-^-

“What are you doing here?” Ming, a makeup artist sneers. “We don’t allow your kind here!”

Then she sees what I’m wearing—sweatpants, and a graphic tee—and bursts in laughter.

Then I see what she’s wearing—a rainbow feather dress—and do the same.

She glares at me. “What are you laughing? You look horrible!”

“You’re the one who looks like anorexic peacock.” With that, Minho and I walk on and then we bump into a traumatized Taemin.

And his outfit.

"DAMN, TAEMIN!" Minho cackles. "Do you even realize how completely stupid you look right now?"

Taemin elbows him the stomach. I kind of take a step back. He glares at me.

I flash him a fake smile. “Er, you, um, look…er, ever dignifying."

"Shut up," Taemin hisses. . "I do not need your patronization."

Minho clutches the sides of his stomach as he slowly asphyxiates.

"YEAH. WHAT YOU NEED IS SOME FASHION SENSE—"

"And that's very rich coming from he who wears that crap," the rich boy growls back.

Minho immediately stopped laughing and glares at him. "HEY! I'll have you know that this jacket is—"

"A piece of crap," I giddily cut off. I shrug when Minho looks at me, betrayed. This is for that fifty bucks you owe, man "I mean sure, Taemin doesn't know how to dress, but um, Minho, you're hardly any better."

He turns to me with a huff. "Well… YOU HAVE BLUE HAIR. NOW THAT IS DIGNIFYING, RIGHT? HA, I THINK NOT."

Taemin nods. "Yeah, seriously."

Oh, no he did not just go there.

Minho gives the, yes I went there look.

BASTARD.

I slowly count to ten to calm myself. "YOU KNOW I’M A VICTIM OF FALSE LABELLING—Whatever, the point is that Taemin has reached a new level of lame with his new little outfit, okay? Seriously, I mean, black leather skinny jeans and that sweater? AND THAT HAIR?" I snort. "Couldn’t you at least not have your hair look that? I think having it all boyish and curly would've looked nice."

"Yeah, really, you bastard," says Minho. "You look like a girl.…"

As we laugh our asses of, Tae turns and starts to walk away.

When he was a good distance past us, Minho grins.

"Do you think we made him cry?"

"Totally. But, ick, I feel like a left-winger here. Let‘s go get him and get out of here."

As the two of us follow him, we’re stopped by person.

“What did you say about my latest creation?” A high pitched voice cries.

We turn around to see, Key, the iest, fakest, meanest, scariest of all left-wingers.

Minho pales. "Hell no, not him—"

"YOU BETTER GET YOUR LITTLE BUTTOCKS OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW OR ELSE I'LL BREAK THOSE LITTLE BUTTOCKS OF YOURS." The sound of grinding teeth could be heard.

We run, grab Tae, and make a beeline back into the right-wing of the house.

Tae smiles. “Don’t think that’s the end of it,” is all he says.

“Says the she-male,” Minho mutters.

Then Tae grinds his teeth and is about to punch Minho in the face until—

“What’s today’s date?”

Bipolar, much?

“It’s the fourth,” I supply.

“OH !” He cries. “Tomorrow’s my mom’s birthday!”

Then I look at him and then I realize, I’m suppose to care because we’re all suppose to be some retarded family who cares whose birthday it is and stuff.

So we have a mini-truce to shop for gifts as we shop for gifts, get the cooks to bake a crap-load of fat-free cakes and stuff and get some right-wingers to get some left-wingers to decorate.

-^-

So Madame Taemin wanted a dog for her birthday but Taemin says she’s not responsible enough for one so instead we started looking at hedgehogs because THEY’RE ADORABLE but I went on online and people were like “hedgehogs will eat your eyelids while you sleep and if you squeeze them their intestines will fall out” so instead we decided to get a kitten.

So we mapped out the shelters (because Madame Taemin adores all things defenceless and poor) and pet shops.

“We should get a boy cat and name him ‘Bob Barker’. That’s a great cat name,” says Minho.

“Let’s just find a cat already named Bob Barker. And when we go to the pet shops we’ll just be like “Bob Barker? BOB BARKER!” And if Bob Barker doesn’t show up we’ll walk out,” I say.

“Are you guys alright in the head?” Taemin mutters.

“We should do that at the pound, too. “Excuse me, ma’am. We’re looking for a cat named Bob Barker”” Minho says.

“And they’ll be like “Oh, you lost your cat named Bob Barker?” and we’ll be all “No. We’re looking to adopt a cat named Bob Barker.”” I say.

And I agree with Tae. We are kind of crazy.

But this what being overworked and young does to a person.

“Oh, hey,” I say. “Taemin, you’re going to have to pay for this with your own money.”

“WHAT?” He cries.

“YES!” Minho agrees, “Madame Taemin will love that. With him being spoiled and stuff!”

“But I don’t have any money!” Tae cries.

We ignore him.

-^-

“Are you kidding me?” Minho cries. “THIS IS THE NINTH PLACE WE’VE GONE THAT HASN’T HAD ANY CATS NAMED BOB BARKER.”

“We’re not picky. It could be a variation of Bob. Bobbie. Robert. Bobben. Even Roberto would be fine. We can teach him English.” I tell the pet-lady.

Minho nods his head in agreement. “Exactly. We’re being flexible.”

The pet-lady looks scared. So does Tae.

“Right? MEET. US. HALFWAY. Except that we’re not actually flexible on the “Barker” part. His last name has to be ‘Barker’. No variations.” I tell her.

“Yeah, that’s a deal-breaker.” Minho says.

Then we looked at lots of cats but on each one I was like “Well, he’s no Bob Barker” and finally we got to the last place and when we walked past the glass this kitten jumped out like “OH MY GOD I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU GUYS ALL DAY” and I was all “Bob Barker!”

I call for Minho. “THIS IS BOB BARKER” and Tae looked at me grumpily because he really wanted a fancier cat and the clerk was all “He’s the last one left because he’s polydactyl.”

Minho gasps. “He’s half pterodactyl?”

She explained that polydactyl means that he has a genetic mutation that gave him four extra toes.

“That’s great!” I cry. “Madame would love this cat! It screams: I’m a social outcast, love me!”

Tae glares at me. “You guys want the mutant cat. Of course you do.”

“This cat has four bonus toes THAT WE DON’T EVEN HAVE TO PAY FOR. THIS CAT IS PRACTICALLY PAYING US TO TAKE HIM.” Minho cries.

“He has four extra claws. That’s like the worst mutation ever. The only way this cat could be worse is if it had two holes,” Tae counters.

Minho then held Bob Barker up. “THIS CAT GREW OPPOSABLE THUMBS. HE COULD DRIVE US HOME RIGHT NOW, MAN. DRIVE US HOME”

And then Tae just sighs and started filling out the paperwork.

“By the way,” I whisper to pet-lady. “I saw that help wanted sign. He’ll work for you in order to pay off for this cat.”

“Oh, great!” The lady cries, smiling.

I smile too. Not only have I picked out the best gift for Madame Taemin, but the himself will be paying off the debt of Bob Baker himself which of course shows he’s growing up.

YES!

And, uh, it’s fine that he doesn’t REALIZE he’s going to pay this off. It’s totally cool. If Madame Taemin thinks some progress, she may just call this whole thing off.

Which is awesome!

“Lin,” Minho says slowly. “Can you stop smiling and possibly having an internal monologue about some sort success you’ve come across? It’s creeping me out.”

Tae nods. "Yeah, seriously.”

Bob Baker just gives me the ‘you-freak-of-nature’ look.

TCH. YOU’RE THE MUTANT, MISTER. AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE—

“LIN! SERIOUSLY. STOP THAT!” Minho cries. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU TODAY?

“Sorry.” I mumble. "I think Young is slipping something in my drinks again..."

And Tae just looks at me like he's never had someone slip stuff in your drinks to experiment the effects it has on your mood and mannerism (it's not drugs, trust me).

That, or he's just constipated. Hard to tell with rich kids.

—end of DAY III—

A/N:

CATS FTW.

Okay. So I’ve gotten 20 subscribers and many wonderful comments I’m…amazed. I really love you guys. I’m not even kidding, you’ve made me giddy with happiness. Thank you, thank you, a million thanks!

I really hope you found this chapter as funny and interesting as the last! ^_^

I'm glad I get to slip in some Tae-MonkeyEars-BlueHair-bonding before the real excitment starts. X)