Seeewwwww...A certain friend of mine who has no ing clue what K-Pop is did something that I think ya'll should see.

Oh, yeah, and he freely admits he's going to hell for one of the lines he added down below. If you wanna get mad, don't bother getting mad at me - I'm not the one who wrote it. If you would really like to take it up with my dear Hoevis Bread, contact the administrators at Bulbagarden and ask for British Joe or Bossman. Tell them GG sent you. You'll get through to him if you wait a few years long enough.

Shaniqua, frankly, was feeling a bit distracted himself. It was nice and all, toasting the night with Yoonjuice, exploding fruit and a delicious glass of Veuve Clicquot, as well as a whole bottle of the stuff chilling in an ice bucket right next to the couch along with even more champagne on the table in front of them. It was pouring down outside, and even though it was pretty toasty inside, Yoonjuice still insisted on snuggling up to him. Sure. Shaniqua was feeling rather peaceful. Read: bored. Although the package an anti-fan had sent him in the mail which Shaniqua had discovered earlier that day was anything but boring…

A snicki-snuh. Somebody had sent him an actual, living, breathing snicki-snuh in a cardboard box. Shaniqua had no idea how the package had even got past his manager, but he’d probably duped it safe since there appeared to be no explosives, and thought it was some incredibly realistic, snicki-snuh-like Bearbrick. Shaniqua hadn’t minded all that much, having blankly watched it slowly coil around itself in the box upon unwrapping, whereas Jidong would’ve been screaming bloody murder, absolutely off his head whilst demanding damage control. There had been no note, but Shaniqua could only assume the worst and that it was poisonous. And so, he continued to remain currently deep in thought on how to dispose of the creature without raising any alarm, whilst Yoonjuice only continued to bury into his chest like it was a gold mine. Shaniqua hadn’t exactly planned on spending his evening thinking about the danger currently boxed in his kitchen, but then again, he didn’t exactly feel like going to bed with Yoonjuice, neither for sleeping nor for . (He had an issue going on that he could only describe as “swamp ball.”) But Yoonjuice was clearly more than eager, now pawing at the buttons on his shirt, when Shaniqua would much rather have been hanging out with his Bearbricks collection at that very moment. Or Jidong. Bearbricks or Jidong. Both were good. And both could be accompanied by another blunt, which was almost as delectable as wine and ice cream combined. Or maybe a Cuban cigar. Or even just a plain Marlboro. Shaniqua would honestly take any of the three, since Yoonjuice was so absolute on the fact that Shaniqua did not smoke in her presence. Or, as she believed, ever.

Left.   

Well, whatever made her happy. Which she definitely wouldn’t be if Shaniqua suddenly demanded she leave because he needed some quality time with his collectables and smokables.

“Oppa (Gangnam Style)…I need you…” Yoonjuice purred, jolting Shaniqua back to reality. His virtual-reality goggles fell of as he glanced down at her pearly manicured fingers, gently coaxing the first button on Shaniqua’s shirt out of its HUGE GAPING hole.

“Wouldn’t…Wouldn’t you rather take this to the bedroom?” Shaniqua murmured huskily, an idea rapidly forming within his mind. An idea that would get him out of this jail cell known as his girlfriend’s apparent ual frustration.

“Yes!” Yoonjuice moaned in a rush of excitement as Shaniqua pulled her down onto his lap, and she eagerly wrapped her lithe legs around his waist. Shaniqua smirked as he stood up from the couch and carried her to his room. His plan was already going so accordingly, and she didn’t even know it. Flushing his girlfriend down the toilet had to be the best idea he’d ever had. Ever.

~
 

Before he made his way down to the kitchen, Jishlong stopped by the bathroom first to retrieve the packet of homo melatonin pills the group planned to use for long-distance flights, say, to America, since they cured insomnia literally on the spot. The drugs in hand, Jishlong flew back out onto the landing, peering over the railing to spy on the front room down below. Thankfully, Shanaynay and NYOOOOOOM were gone, and so they wouldn’t have a problem with Jishlong stealing their champagne since they wouldn’t know. Hurtling down the stairs at breakdick speed, Jishlong grabbed the closest can of urine-scented Fosters ™ and attempted to head to the kitchen to find two fresh coffee mugs. However, he found the door was blocked off by two Bearbrick dragons and a sign Jishlong instantaneously recognised as Shanaynay’s boyish scrawl of ‘LONG LIVE BIN LADEN’. Weird. Oh, well. Jishlong flipped back around to hesitantly eye the two used mugs on the table. Beggars definitely couldn’t be choosers, especially if he wanted this to work and be re-united with his beloved stoner daydreams once again that night. Beggars could, however, not be creeps and kill their girlfriends, but this concept seemed to be lost on him.

After giving the mug rims (hehe) a quick wipe-down with a nearby bra, Jishlong ripped open the packet and popped a single pill into his palm. Without a moment’s hesitation, he dropped the pill into one of the mugs, where it immediately fizzed and dissolved until completely invisible, non-existent. He just had to remember to give the right one to Milkjug; was a tricky drug Although, to be perfectly honest, as long as the drug was taken by one of them, it didn’t matter who it was. His girlfriend would either take it and grow a , or he would take it and have a raging . Either outcome was great.  

Milkjug grinned in anticipation at the beautiful sight of her gorgeous boyfriend finally re-appearing in the doorway, proffering two bubbling mugs of stale Fosters. She immediately snatched a mug and greedily sipped from it, automatically believing that the bobbing motion of was turning on Jishlong at an unbelievable rate. When, in actuality, she opened her eyes to find he hadn’t even bothered to sit back down, far too busy guzzling down his own glass of Fosters like a raging alcoholic. Which he obviously wasn’t. Because alcoholics don’t have champagne all over their house. Nope.

“Jishlong…” She begun, quickly faltering as she found herself lying down onto her back, fatigue not dissimilar to that of post-coital suddenly overtaking her body. Was there a Basilisk nearby?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Jishlong sang, echoing Milkjug’s earlier words, as he walked round the bed towards her.

“I…Just really sleepy…” Milkjug yawned. Jishlong grinned victoriously. The drug really was instantaneous.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jishlong soothed, grinning even wider now that her eyes were fully closed. It really couldn’t get better than this. “We can get together another time.”

“Mm…thanks, HONK!” Milkjug murmured, just about dozing off and squeezing his nose. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Jishlong murmured back, her Pokemon cards with intense stoner concentration. He meant it, he really did, but right now, all he needed Milkjug to do was to go to sleep. Eventually, her breathing did become heavy and even, her chest rising and falling in time before being overcome with pig snorts and various grunts. Jishlong smiled with satisfaction. It was the perfect end for the perfect night.

And the perfect beginning for Jishlong’s perfect, private pot party.

Although he wouldn’t mind inviting Shanaynay along.

Because there wasn’t any other pot without him.

Jishlong ran a hand through Milkjug’s impressive Pokemon Card collection one last time before pulling the covers over her bare shoulders, sighing with relief. Now that he was done trying to continue to impress his girlfriend whilst on a completely different planet altogether, he could finally chill out and pick up the party from where he’d last left off. Jishlong bent down onto the floor, sweeping his hand on the carpet underneath his bed until he found the roach, and slipped it into his pocket to ensure he wouldn’t lose it again; insects were very timid creatures, and this particular roach was his special favourite. He blew out the candles on the bedside, leaving the room in darkness as he shut the door behind him and headed downstairs.

“Baby, goodnight…”

Then he remembered he didn’t have a baby, and laughed at his own silliness.

Oh and he had a wank or something.

/dead