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Soi Brothers â€" Part 5

Written and copyright Raistlinhawke, 2009

Todd bent down to remove the odd rock in the spice garden that guarded the key to his front door. Brushing off the fresh soil that the small golden key had acquired since he last placed it there, the meerkat opened the screen door and stuck the key into the lock, the door popping open automatically. After pushing the door ajar, Todd replaced the key and entered, removing his shoes and noticing his mother watching television in the den.

"Heya mom!" Todd said, announcing his presence, "I'm back!"

"Hey," replied his mother, not taking her attention from the television.

"Was there anything you needed me for tonight?" Todd offered, wondering if her rapt attention was indicative of something deeper, a sign he might be in trouble for...something.

"No, it's a boring night," came the response, equally disinterested.

Entering the den, Todd rested his elbow against the armchair his mother was lounging in and checked out what she was watching. Finding it to be another lame pseudo-documentary on American crime, he kissed his mother on the forehead and began the trek to his room.

"Sorry I didn't call before leaving," he boomed from the hallway, "I forgot to ask Alex for his cell."

Even from the doorway to his room, he could hear the grumbles that his mother usually expunged at the mention of the wotter. Slumping his shoulders, Todd wondered if he would ever bridge the gap between his mother and best friend; the former still stuck on some not-so-false preconceptions about the latter.

"I'll be in my room, then!" the meerkat yelled into the den, "got to catch up on some editing!"

Closing the door to his room, the meerkat followed the same well-worn routine: changing from pants to sweats (Sexy Mr. Rogers-style, he affectionately termed it), getting through a few songs â€" on expert of course â€" with his "Music Legends" game, and settling down in front of his desktop for a couple of hours of editing.

Booting up the computer, his editing software automatically loaded, displaying his most recent project in an active window. Scrolling through the time-bar, he began the clip at its beginning to refresh himself on his progress thus far. What played was roughly 2 minutes of a comedy sketch, a review of a terrible 1960s Blaxploitation film.

Rarely finding the material he edited funny, he relied (too heavily, he thought) on the guidelines provided by whatever internet comedy troupe that had bartered for his services. Within a year of starting up out of the blue, Todd had become a particularly sought-after editor for an almost uncountable number of independent internet videos, his professional looking cuts giving even basic content a sense of style.

"Alright, let's get this done tonight then," Todd told his computer, the approaching deadline fixed in his head.

"Guy talks about the movie," Todd said, scrolling through the provided camera footage and dropping the necessary clip into the final video's time-line, "Guy shows us the movie," he said, dropping the appropriate film footage alongside the comedian's commentary. "Rinse, repeat."

The process took another several hours atop his previous work on the video, clocking in at a simple, if monotonous, ten hour gig overall. After the third time reviewing the final cut, Todd tacked on the intro and outro video segments and saved the project, sending a copy to the comedy troupe. He hoped the promptness would translate to a more appreciative client (and a more active plugging on their site), but so far not many internet comedians had been prone to acts of generosity.

Todd leaned back into his recliner, curving and stretching his tired fingers as he arched his back. Seeing the red glow of his alarm clock in his peripheral vision, he checked the time.

"11pm on a Friday," he read aloud, the statement falling flat in the silence around him. His mother must have already fallen asleep. "The town's already been dead for an hour."

Leaning back into his chair, he attempted to figure out something to waste the remaining hours he would be awake on. His stack of games sat innocently in the corner, most so thoroughly played through he could re-design the entire experience in his sleep. He thought of calling Ax's house, maybe scheduling a late night food run, but he remembered Ax's dad had a lot of work scheduled for him and Ax. Last time he attempted to call this late after a work day he nearly lost the hearing in his right ear.

"Drake's mom is probably already sleep too, if she worked today," he mused, knowing the gecko wouldn't dare disturb his mother for a ride, and wasn't licensed to provide one himself.

In this spurt of inactivity, Todd's hands began to fidget. While the constant editing workload had given him an active income and a lot of praise, he had also developed a nervous habit of continuing to work, despite deadlines being weeks or even months away. Ever since his class-load at the junior college dropped into almost second-nature, he had found discomfort in not being able to be productive, in not having something to do. Ax was the first to brand him a workaholic, a title he was all too eager to constantly refer to the meerkat as.

As Todd's mind began to drift back from his thoughts, he was caught in his computer's blue glow as the screensaver automatically switched on. Turning to face the monitor and shaking the mouse to get back to the desktop, Todd's attention automatically shifted to the "Other Projects" tab on his editing program, a list of executable files waiting to be primped and preened for their respective masters.

"Might as well get a head start," the meerkat told himself, passing it off as a pep talk. The meerkat grabbed a chocolate bar from his desk drawer, deftly unwrapping the foil and popping a corner chunk into his mouth.

Sitting back in the desk chair, Todd saw his own face vaguely apparent in the sheen of his computer, the face looking back at him one of mustered enthusiasm.

"Not like I have anything better to do."

************************

Soi Brothers â€" Part 6

Written and copyright Raistlinhawke, 2009

A loud screech made Alex's ears vibrate as the cashier handed him his change. Off across the food court sat a couple of parents, apparently oblivious to their two grossly overweight children bouncing atop their plastic chairs, squealing indiscriminately. Alex gritted his teeth against the noise; fighting his instincts to maul the rotund little harpies as he made a grab for some cheese packets.

Balancing his tray on one paw, he rifled through the pocket of his jeans, looking for a pen. For some reason his laptop bag also lacked a single writing utensil, despite him distinctly remembering filling the front pouch with at least one ball-cap.

"YO!" came a more welcome yell in the distance. Alex quickly identified Ax waving a few rows down, the two drinks he was tasked to get already marking spots at a nearby table. Unable to find a pen in the depths of his pants, Alex grabbed the tray with both paws and navigated through the teeming masses to Ax.

"Good spot," the wotter mused, noticing the distance away from most of the people, "you got my change?"

The mantis fished out a couple bills and coins before eagerly slurping down a giant gulp of his drink, an orange-banana Julius from what Alex could surmise. Arranging his tray for maximum eating efficiency, he grabbed a gulp of his own smoothie, a simple Strawberry Julius, before noticing the stack of monotonous looking papers that sat across from him on the tabletop.

"Well, that," he thought aloud, Ax turning to him without stopping his straw-sucking, "...that just looks unpleasant."

Following the wotter's eyeline, Ax nodded at the daunting sized paper stack in agreement. "Repetitive, more like."

Alex shrugged, the exact descriptive term seeming irrelevant to him at the moment. Shaking off the impending tedium, he grabbed one of his massive pizza slices by its crust, taking a hungry bite.

"It wouldn't be so bad," he said, muzzle still half full, "if the information they wanted wasn't either redundant or complete bullshit."

"Yeah," Ax replied automatically, "...wait, no. What on an application is bullshit? It's all legal information and stuff."

Alex bobbed his head in contradiction, "eh, most of the time you get the basic spreadsheet application. But some companies think themselves progressive enough to put all these open ended prompts at the end, essay questions they can't honestly expect anyone to answer truthfully."

Realization sparked in Ax's wide eyes, "Oh, right! Like, ‘What, do you honestly feel, is your strongest weakness?'"

"Exactly," Alex answered, taking another bite of pizza, "I mean, even if I were to take these questions seriously, I doubt my chocoholicism would interfere with my ability to properly retail."

"Might if you consider working at May's Chocolates," Ax chuckled, tapping the top of the paper pile.

"Nah, they were nice enough to forgo the prompts," Alex said as he chewed, "Which means I can take night shifts and rob them blind without much remorse." He smiled at the mantid.

"Aside from them noticing the daily lack of 12 pounds of Raspberry Nougat," Ax offered, playing along, "I doubt the sudden barrage of treats would either of us good."

"True," Alex replied, continuing the riff, "which would mean we would have to find and coordinate several diabetic friends to maximize the theft's usefulness and torture capabilities."

"Ah," said Ax, adopting a faux contemplative air, "but to truly make this pathetic petty crime a sociopathic masterpiece, would have to force said diabetics to indulge in these chocolates outside a window of a gym frequented by obese people who can't control their urges."

Alex smiled, impressed with his friend's thoroughness, "Which means this plan must be set to go in the months directly proceeding New Year's, so we can get all the biggest ones fresh from their resolutions."

Ax laughed, "I think we have at least one candidate to keep tabs on for that then," the mantis pointed at the family Alex noticed earlier, the one whose children were still acting like wind-up noise makers.

Alex smiled evilly, enjoying the thought.

As the joke slowly faded, the wotter finishing his first slice, he sighed and took the first page off the application stack, looking at it with malice.

"Might as well get started," he grimaced, sighing again, "you got a pen, Ax?"

The mantis, already munching on Alex's abandoned pizza crust, drove a hand into the satchel at his side, retrieving a blue fountain pen with ease. Tossing it absentmindedly to his side, he returned to eating, gazing off into the distance.

"Your office supplies preparedness never ceases to amaze me," Alex said, as he bent over to retrieve the pen from the particularly sticky section of floor where it landed. Beginning to fill out his name on the first sheet - for an upscale clothing shop - he admonished, "I just can't believe I'm back here man. It feels like I'm a junior in High School again, looking for a part time job to shut up my step-dad."

Ax grunted, uncommitted, "Don't know what to tell you man, I was adopted into my future line of work."

Alex nodded to himself, silently berating the mantid for his luck, "I can't stand working at a mall of all places," he said, offering a wide gesture to the mess of consumerism that surrounded him, "I'd probably go homicidal much sooner than intended."

"I know it's not the best prospect," Ax offered, almost robotically, "but it's the best place to start in this town, unless you have a hankering for invest banking or construction."

Alex, noticing the tone in the mantis' voice, Alex said, "Don't you even start, ya prick." Smiling, he and poked Ax with his pen, "How many times have you given that speech, when the one listening didn't have the good sense to interrupt you?"

Turning toward the wotter in a scuttle, Ax smiled, "You're only the second to hear the employment pep talk," the mantis blinked, his wide eyes making the action look ten times more deliberate, "the first was Geri, and for your information, it was so inspirational it got me laid." The mantid puffed out his abdomen, causing another poke from Alex's pen.

"Well, don't expect that shit from me," the wotter admonished, "hell, from what Geri told me the day after that creepy sounding coatis, it was worth a hand job at most." Alex to his paper work, finishing the first application almost instinctively before moving onto the next.

"Oh god, dude, I have no idea why I'm even trying," the wotter's shoulders slumped, "I'm holding an application for Hit the Streets here!"

The mantis took the opportunity, tapping the shoe store application, "Hey, at least you have something to put in there ‘Do you have any special skills relevant to employment here?' box," Ax's mouthparts inadvertently clicked, giving away his attempt at humor, "A paw fetish would greatly benefit a career in shoe retail!"

Forgoing the usual pen poke for an outright jab, Alex growled in response, "I have no idea why I tell you these things, you asshole"

Chuckling in his usual click, Ax ignored the insult as he offered a fake mini-violin in condolence, before returning to his drink, "you going to finish that last slice?"