Subject: Re: The fondle

From: Nambasquiat@staygold. com

To: Hiphopbabylion@bbusan. com

Date: 25 April 2015 2:22 pm

 

 

Seunghoon wrote:

A hand right there on my humps! Like he had the right to, or something! I was in the bus, running late  for school and leaning on the vertical bar ‘cause I was sleepy and then I felt it! Man, gave me the nightmare of my life! And then I said, “Dude, I know I’m pretty but I’m straight as an arrow, and even if I could be queer for a day, you are so not my type; I’d rather French-kiss a donkey than you!”And he squeezed it! So I hauled off and belted him right in the bar then at the windows. Gave him a bloody nose, too. There was blood everywhere, and a classmate who I’m not really close to, saw the whole scene and got to tell Mr. Jones what I did. My picture was put up in the school’s newspaper with the story, how girls are not the only one who can be harassed and you should learn to fight back yadda yadda yadda. I felt like the school’s quarterback with all the attention, Hahahahahahahaha!

 

 

Oh, man, I wish I had been there to see that. How very cool that you gave that creep a bloody nose, although I suppose if the blood splattered on your beloved sneakers, that would take a bit of the fun out of the situation. Try club soda—that’s what Mom uses for everything. And go, you, for not taking any sort of ual harassment! We studied harassment earlier this year. Turns out all sorts of things you wouldn’t think were harassment really are, even stuffs like a girl kissing you without you really wanting them to. I mean, I could sue some for ual harassment if I wanted to! I mean, there was this girl from Biology; she did keep pushing here humongous front balls thingy on me. If that’s not harassment, I just don’t know what it is. But yours definitely was, is the man drunk and thought you were a girl or something?

 

 

I don’t know man, but let’s forget about that. Sorry to hear you aren’t getting much sleep with Raeryun. The HelloBabies that we had were v1.20, which I guess was the really early model, because I didn’t have any trouble with Simba (yes, he named his baby after the lion). He slept through both nights. And also, it only took a little bit of time before he’d stop crying, not the half hour or more that Raeryun is doing. Did you ask your teacher if he set something up wrong?

 

 

Oh, I’m so not going to do that; he’ll just make him cry nonstop. I got three hours’ sleep last night—three hours! How am I supposed to go to school and be intelligent and everything when I’ve only had three hours of sleep? I have two tests on Friday! I can’t study for them if I’m so groggy from lack of sleep that I can’t even remember what it is I’m studying for.

 

 

Speaking of that, what did Seungyoon say when you brought Raeryun by? Was he a good daddy?

 

 

Ha! Oh, boy was that ever an experience! I went over to Seungyoon’s house last night to help him pick out stuff to wear in Paris—well, not really, because he has good taste and all, but it sounds very BF-y to say you’re going over to your BF’s to help him pick out clothes, so that’s what I said I was going to do, but once I got there all we did was watch Better Call Saul on his new widescreen TV.

                Right in the middle of it, Raeryun went off. Now, here’s the thing—I told you that Seungyoon’s parents have separated, right? It’s kind of sad because I liked his dad a lot the one time I met him. He loks a bit like John Lemmon, and he has a wicked funny sense of humor (which kind of embarrassed Seungyoon, but you know how it is with parents—what you think is awful your entire friends think is funny). Anyway, Seungyoon’s mom has been kind of weepy and sad and stuff since Christmas. Seungyoon let me in last night, so his mom didn’t see me and Raeryun; she just yelled hello from the other room.

                So Raeryun starts crying right as were watching Better Call Saul upstairs in the den. All of a sudden his mom bursts into the room, her eyes all big and bulgy like Ricky’s on I Love Lucy.

                “I heard a baby,” she said in a rush. Her eyes goy even Ricky-er when she saw Seungyoon holding Raeryun, patting him on the back (I was shoeing Seungyoon how you have to rub his back to soothe him). “Good God! Taehyun, you had a baby? I had no idea how— who—that is, who is the— is that baby . . . erm—”

                So there ya go, we ended up explaining the HelloBaby thingy and have his mom teach us baby stuffs and I went home remembering I was supposed to meet Hayi to exorcise the underwear ghost in my dresser.

                Apparently, you can judge a Wiccan to come to your house and deghost your underwear drawer, do not, no matter how skeptical you are, ask if it really works, ‘cause whoever it is doing the magic stuff is bound to get annoyed.

                “Magic is not a precise science,” Hayi said in a miffed tone. “Magic is the act of altering consciousness by your will. As people, very little in our lives is in our control, which is why our will to shape and change our life force, and those forces us around us, is our only tool. If you do not believe, the magic will not work.”

                “Sorry,” I said quickly, not wanting her to get ticked off she left without taking care of my ghost. “I’m almost absolutely positive that I believe.”

                She shot me a look that was just like the one Lydia was giving me (part eye-roll, part disgusted curled-lip sneer), and went to each of the windows to sprinkle salt.

                “Um . . . why salt?” I asked as she moved over to the door. “I thought it was supposed to be bad luck to spill salt? Are you trying to annoy the ghost so it leaves?”

                “If that’s all it took to get it to leave, you’ve certainly have done it long ago,” Lydia said snottily. This explains why I have petitioned Mom three times now to formally disavow Lydia, and make her stay in our relatives in the next county.

                “Salt provides protection against evil spirits entering your room,” Hayi said.

                “That’s nice and all, but the ghost is already here,” I pointed out.

                She didn’t say anything to that just took out a big blue stone bowl and started putting stuff into it. I peered over her shoulder to see what she was doing.

                “This is garlic, dried thistle, clove, sage, and peppermint,” she said. “I will light it, and it will drive out the spirit. Lydia?”

                Lydia came forward with a lighter and lit a small stick. Hayi wedged the stick into the dried herbs, stirring it around until they started to smoke. Then she walked all over the room, stopping at the dresser to wave the smoke into each of the opened drawers. “We come here in peace and understanding. By the name of the Eternal lord and Eternal lady, we bid thee to part. By the name of the Eternal lady and Eternal lord, we consecrate this space. By the spirit within us, let nothing but joy linger here.”

                “Amen,” I said, feeling like I should say something, except I didn’t know any Wiccan stuff to say. “Is this it? When will I know of the ghost is gone?”

                She set the bowl down in the open top drawer, right between my Ironman boxers and the tights I wear when I go jogging to stop my from flopping around. The herbs were smoking something awful, filling up the room with herb smoke, so I went to open up a window.

                “No, you must keep the windows closed or it won’t work,” Hayi said quickly. “We must wait until the herbs have finished burning; then we will take the outside and bury the ashes.”

                I waved my hand in the air, trying to flag the smoke out of my face. Lydia started coughing deep, her icky-sounding asthma cough. My eyes stung as I started to cough, too. The smoke was really nasty. No wonder it would drive a ghost out. “Bury—cough, cough—the ashes? Why—hack, wheeze—bury them?”

                “Can’t stay; need my inhaler,” Lydia gasped as she ran for the door.

                Even Hayi started wheezing a bit. “We bury the ashes to return them to the Earth Mother. I will admit, this is a bit strong—” She bolted for the door.

                I followed right on her heels, sopping just long enough to grab Raeryun before escaping. After Hayi caught her breath, she told me that when I went back into the room, I should feel a difference.

                “Yeah, but what’s going to happen to all my undies and other stuff in the dresser? They’ll all smell like smoke. I hate smoky clothes! I’ll have to wash everything, and I’ve got two tests tomorrow. And I’m supposed to fly to Paris tomorrow night. I don’t have time to be washing smoky clothes.”

                Lydia dragged Hayi off to her room. Isn’t that just like her?

                “The smoke should clear soon,” Hayi said over her shoulder.

                “Great,” I told Raeryun, who was being quiet (did I tell you he has deep black eyes just like Seungyoon? Isn’t that too fabu?). “It should clear soon. Do you see what happens when you have a girl in the house? This is why you’re an only child.”

                I went down to the library to do some homework until Seungyoon picked me up, which meant I had to sit in the same room as Donghyun when he was writing up a paper on garderobes or peons or whatever it is a medieval scholar does. And you know how he grunts when he writes. He also mutters Latin under his breath, and I defy anyone to study while someone grunts and speaks parseltongue-ish in the same room. Martyr that I am, I went in and braved the Stare of the Unibrowed (still no luck with leaving pairs of tweezers lying conveniently around).

                “You can lower your unibrow; I’m not here to bother you. Seungyoon’s picking me up in a couple of hours, but until then I have to do my homework in here because my underwear is being smoked.”

                “For any particular reason, or were you just I the underwear-smoking sort of mood?” Donghyun asked.

                “It’s because your older brother has weird friends. Oh, poop, Jack, not now!”

                “Out,” Donghyun ordered, pointing to the door. “I’m working on an important bit of research into an anthropological problem during the early Middle Ages. I cannot draw logical conclusions into the origin of sutlers with that thing squalling. (I’m telling you, my brother has some 72-year-old savant egghead living inside of him, I’ve tried asking Mom what she fed with during pregnancy and she just laughed at me telling I should be proud of my brother having interest in such complicated things).”

                I sighed and put my key into Raeryun’s back. “I’m an outcast in my own home,” I said as I left the library.

                “One more reason not to engaged in ual until you’re thirty,” Donghyun yelled after me.

                It took me for