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

The Murder/Funeral/Wedding Trifecta ~ Part 1

Three days.

It took somebody to notice us on top of that Ferris wheel three, fucking, days. Three days of uninterrupted sun beaming down on us. Three days of having to eat Hayden's jacket to survive. Three days of fending off waves of radioactive flyquitos, violent radioactive abominations created from the unholy confirmation between a mosquito and a fly after the mosquito drank the blood of the city's homeless drunk and stumbled upon the wrong trash can.

Dear reader, we had to lick the sweat off each other to conserve water. And believe me, it's not as sexy as it sounds. By day two, I was more salt than people. Hayden, of course, tried to use his sweat as a vinaigrette for the jacket, but that just attracted more flyquitos. The couple in the cart in front of us didn't last a day before resorting to light cannibalism, nibbling each other's fingers every few hours. Sadly, the girl had anxiety munchies, so she resorted to using her boyfriend's fingernails as faux chewing gum. When that didn't work, she chewed on his gums.

By the end of day three, we were exhausted, heatstroke, dehydrated, and dizzy. Lucky for us, a drone manned by a legal firm representing the Disney corporation happened to fly by us to assess the extent of their copyright infringement. Apparently, Disney now owns the concept of fairs and carnivals. Star Wars, and now this. Is there anything they don't own?

After pledging our loyalty to the kind of Mouses by sacrificing our false idol, we were helped down. And just in time, for the couple in front of us were already eating part of their calves and were in the process of splitting one eye like an olive. They still ate it when they were helped down. I think they just developed a taste. Humans, after all, taste like sweet pork.

I feel like shit, both inside and outside. But, of course, what I believe to be a pretty severe dehydration/sunburn wombo-combo turns into something very, very different after some nifty bad boys genes and some plot armor are applied to it. Thus...

"yo, that tan bussin," says Brayden, flicking a coin while leaning on a random locker like a K-drama mafioso. Wait, I misspoke. It isn't a coin, but a Pokemon pog. "and your skin is so terse and shiny. where you get it?"

"We were stuck in a Ferris wheel for three days," says Hayden, who now had a sweet-tempered chocolate shine.

"cool, cool," says the twerp. "jungkook, can you put 'getting stranded on a ferris wheel' on my calendar? gotta get my beach bod ready."

The pair of beefers are in a corner opposite to us, fiddling with something or other on a small device mounted to the ceiling. On close inspection, it seems like a camera. On a less-than-close inspection, it's an iPhone duct-taped to the ceiling on an angle. At least they got a better resolution than whatever the hell banks and convenience stores use.

"Got it, boss!" says Jungkook, while Harry swaps the microSD of the iPhone with another.

"Didn't you find it weird that we missed three days of school?" I ask Brayden.

"bitch, i ain't your babysitter. i already have two wawas to take care of."

"He feeds us Flaming Hot Cheetos mac & cheese!" adds Harry. "It's fucking poggers."

"and besides, you whores never ask me what's up with my life when i miss classes. never ask me about my hopes, or aspirations, or my secret underground fight club for mythical creatures."

"We don't have your phone number, brother," says Hayden. "You told me, and I quote: y'all too basic for my digits."

"damn right you are," says Brayden with a smirk. God, I hope that pog reaches terminal velocity and breaks his skull in two. He turns towards Harry and Jungkook. "you two, got a pic?"