Misbehave

I DO NOT OWN: The Cheesecake Factory, Hot Topic, The Rocky Horror Picture Show (damn it) or any anime convention. I wasn't lying about my description of the one in question--a proposal and marriage really did happen at one.

I hand her the job application and turn to go. “I’m—looking over this,” she calls to me without taking her eyes off the application. I stay put. “I’m having interviews next week. I’ll call you then.”

“Okay, great. Thank you,” I respond, shaking her hand. “See you then,” she smiles. It’s a sarcastic smile—she hates her job. I can sense it. I leave the store after pulling the hood of my dark blue sweatshirt up. The bus ride home goes faster than usual. I thank the driver when he drives to my stop and walk home, my hands jammed in the pocket—pouch is a better word—of the sweatshirt. “Hey, how’d it go?” Kiba asks. Something is different about him—oh, Akamaru isn’t around him. I see the dog sitting on top of the couch, staring out the big window into the street. “Fine.” I move past Kiba.

“Man, I was so tired last night!” he prattles. “I stayed up for seventeen hours!”
“It’s normal to stay awake for sixteen, Kiba. The human body is designed for that.”
“I know, but seventeen! I finished five essays, applied for ten jobs and read fifty pages of my psychology textbook! Last night I kept thinking about how I need to do schoolwork today to have the grades I want, and I DREAMED about coffee.” I nod as we enter the kitchen. “You don’t even like coffee.”
“I know. I might need it though. How many days till the quarter ends?”
“Too many.” Chouji is crunching away on potato chips. “What are you talking about, Chouji? You have the internship of your dreams! You’re a cook at the Cheesecake Factory!” He nods proudly. “Yeah, but you know I want to be a pastry chef.”
“You’d spend so much time sampling your own wares,” I shake my head. “No one else would be able to eat them. You’ll gain so much weight!” He shrugs. “I’m already fat. I wouldn’t eat all my own creations. I’ll let people eat them.”
“He says that now.”
We all laugh. “Sasuke, you’re right though…my doctor says I have to lose weight starting yesterday.” He frowns and promptly guzzles a glass of soda. “Chocolate milk tastes better,” Temari breezes into the kitchen with the baby. “I’m lactose intolerant.”
“Bullshit,” she puts her free hand on her free hip and readjusts her grasp on the baby with the other hand and hip.
“She’s got a point.”
Chouji ignores us and waddles away. He’s proud of his gait and likes being fat. He hates being told what to do.

My phone buzzes and vibrates, tearing my attention away from my introspection and onto the phone’s little screen. I don’t recognize the number, so I click the button on the phone that allows the phone to stop vibrating. It vibrates again insistently—whoever called me has decided to leave a message.
“Hi, Sasuke, this is Satori.” I wonder who that is and how she knows me.
“—so call me back to confirm your interview this Monday at two. The phone number here is—”
I save the message and quickly dial the number.

“Thank you for calling Hot Topic. This is Satori. How may I direct your call?” She runs her words together as one, her boredom evident. “Hi, Satori, this is Sasuke—”
“Oh, hi.” She doesn’t sound so bored anymore. “I’m calling to confirm my interview time.”
“Great. See you Monday at two.”
“See you.” Click. Knock-knock. I stride out of the kitchen and open the door to admit Shika and Neji.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”

We sit down on the couch. “How’s the job search?” I scowl and shake my head. “One interview. You lucky bastard, you have a job.”
“Stop whining and keep trying.”
I raise an eyebrow. Neji shrugs. “You get boring sometimes.”
“Hn.”
“Hey—Sasuke—do you have any plans for the weekend?”
“No,” I respond slowly, wondering about the break in his speech.
“Neji and I were going to this thing with a friend, but that guy’s in rehab. Do you want to go in his place?”
“What kind of a thing?”
“Well, it’s kind of like going to Rocky Horror, only it starts at nine in the morning instead of midnight. The registration and checking in, anyway—and it goes for an entire weekend, Friday to Sunday. It’s anime.”
“I don’t even like anime.”
“I know, but it’d be a waste of a badge, a pre-registry fee and a hotel bed.”
“That means nothing to me whatsoever.”

“The badges are plastic ID tags that clip onto your costume. People register so things can be planned accordingly, and they pre-register because it’s cheaper and less of a wait to get to the events. There’s things to do all twenty-four hours of each day, and people who are there late go sleep in hotel rooms. People come in from other states, so they stay in the hotel, too. Sasuke, imagine…” Great. Now he’s about to bribe me because this is something I wouldn’t ordinarily do.
“Wait. At these conventions, what is there to do?”
“There’s the kickass opening and closing ceremonies--”
“Kickass because you probably sleep through them.”

“No, they’re cool. There’s movies, photo rooms, concerts, food, dating games—people have actually proposed at opening ceremonies and gotten married at these things the next day—there’s seminars that teach about costume accessories, particularly wig-making and corset-making, learning about Japanese culture and…the dealers’ rooms.”
“Drug deals?”
“If only,” Neji puts his arm around Shika as I burst out laughing at the mental images of people dressed up as characters, and on drugs. “No, they peddle anime-related stuff—Japanese comic books, clothing and bags that have slogans referring to anime sex, sweets, posters of J-pop singers and their CDs, um…” He looks at Shikamaru and they think of what else are in these rooms.
“Wait. Anime characters can have sex?”
“Dear god,” Neji shakes his head.

“Are you on crack?” Kiba asks suspiciously. He’s searching for Akamaru’s collar, which he always puts in the living room before bathing his dog. “No, Sasuke’s just stupid.”
“Fucker.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I don’t need those mental images,” Kiba groans, quickly snapping the collar around the dog’s neck.
“Go away, Kiba.” Shika, Neji and I speak at the same time. He does.
“What’s J-pop?”
“Japanese pop music. Sasuke, even if it seems boring to you, at least…go to one of the dances. You’ll meet people. You need to get out more, anyway.”

“It’s three days and two nights without a crying baby, her bitch of a mom, a barkaholic, deaf dog and so many people in such a small space.” I stare at Neji. “That’s it. I’m going.” The two of them do a hand gesture that’s a cross between a high-five and a handshake. “Okay, let’s talk about costumes.”
“You really want me to do this, huh?”
“Three days and two nights without a crying baby.”
“Okay, how about…”


“Happy anniversary.”
I roll over and open my eyes. “Happy anniversary to you, too.”