Flamingo'd: Filthy Frankx Reader

Chapter Nine Can't Stretch That

You dragged the bookcase down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. You were so glad you made this decision to go out and get the material needed to organize all of your purchased pornographic material. Not to mention how convenient it was, since it just so happened someone was trying to throw out a bookcase and left it in an alleyway about a block from the apartment. Man, this was so far a really good day.

But you soon realized this wasn't going to be so easy. You had been dragging this bookcase for about thirty minutes, and you were still ten yards away from the apartment. You knew there was no way you could get this up stairs, or be able to fit it into the tiny elevator. You were going to need some help.

Despite the fact you wanted to avoid people today, you decided that this event overcame your anti-social-ness today, gathered some pebbles and coins, and started throwing them at the window Red Dick had been thrown out of, hoping it was their apartment. You were impressed with yourself how accurately you were hitting the window, I mean- damn! Look at that arm! And so, you continue doing this until the window is literally thrown open and what looks like a flaming ball of duct tape flies out. Don't ask me how you knew it's duct tape, I'm not you.

Pink guy sticks his head out, making a high pitched growling noise. He spots you and tilts his head, making a grunt of questioning. You at first reply with small beeps and clicking, but you stop yourself to create words.

"- can one of you come down to help me?"

Pink guy just stares at you with what could be considered a "are you shitting me" face.

"I'll pay."

He lets out a joyful squeal and gives you a hand signal that could be a thumbs up, or an attempted shadow puppet. He slips back in as you wait for him to slip out- or at least someone else. After a couple of minutes later the apartment door opens and-

Fuck.

FUCK.

IT'S FUCKING FRANK!!

WHO DID YOU EXPECT?!

YOU THOUGHT I'LL BE ORIGINAL?

THENK I US GUD GRAMR?

FUCK NO!

I'M FUCKING LAZY

I'M GOING TO USE.

STUPID.

SHITTY.

CLICHES.

FOR MOVING THE PLOT.

WHY DO I WRITE THIS?! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I PUT THE WORD "REALIZE" INTO THIS THING? WHY DO YOU READ THIS?! TO FUCK FRANK? REALLY? OR MAYBE OH YOU JUST WANTED TO SEE IF THIS ACTUALLY EXISTED! GUESS WHAT?! IT DOES! THERE IS SO MUCH MORE YOU COULD BE DOING WITH YOUR LIFE! YOU CAN GO OUT AND DONATE YOUR VOICE! NO, REALLY! YOU CAN GIVE YOUR VOICE OUT AS AN OPTION FOR PEOPLE WHO ARE MUTE TO USE THEM! GO OUT AND DO THAT SOMETIME, HELP SOME LIVES! I'm sorry, that was just me venting.

On with the story.

Frank walks out.

His eyes wide as ever, he's wearing cargo shorts, and is barefoot. He stares at you for a second, and then at the bookcase. You meanwhile have your fist clenched so tightly that your knuckles turn milk white., not to mention you're also trying to keep that tiny screaming noise in the back of your throat inaudible. Your mind is racing, should you run? Made you could induce vomiting or fainting. Yeah, that could work. But you realize that that's fucking stupid. It's much more rational to get this over with, and then stay in your apartment alone for the rest of the day organizing all you wonderful material.

Your train of thought comes to a screeching halt when Franks clasps his hand together, "Alright, finally chromosomes of watching outdated German exercise videos come in handy."

What happens next is burnt into your mind for at least a couple of therapy sessions. Frank gets into a handstand, and uses his legs to lift up one side of the bookcase. Once you get out of your five seconds of processing what the hell you are looking at, you lift up the other side of the bookcase, and begin to carry it towards the apartment and up the stairs. The both of you are silent for the first minute or two, but as you're carrying it up the stairs, frank finally starts up a conversation.

"Hey f/n, you said you worked at a mini-mart yesterday, right?"

"Yeah, I di-d1glet."

"Is it the one that's right down the street?"

"Neek, I'm at teh one by teh movie theater, it has a frog on the sign."

"Oddly specific, mkay, so do you like, get discounts from stuff by working there?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Well, if the shiny ass of a beaner gets back on time, i might have a favor to ask you."

"Dyke."

You both finally get to your room, and set the bookcase by your bed. Frank returns to his feet, and begins rubbing his wrists. "Man, forgot about how much that aches, my wrists haven't hurt this much since that one time I pissed off a group of female wrestlers, you know how they are, so they..."

As Frank told his story, you went into the kitchen to grab a handful of change, keeping your promise to Pink Guy. Hey, it was either this or having him get angry and have him and Safari Man throw day old spaghetti at you when ever they saw you for a month.

"... and I guess you could say, they couldn't keep there hands off me!" he began to holler at his own joke, you were worried you'd get kicked out by the other neighbors. You handed him the money,"Here."

"F/n, you don't have to pay me."

"I promised Pink guy."

"I could hand that guy a handful of push-pins, and he'll just shove them up his ass and treat them the same way," you both begin a fit of giggling as you murmur out,"lol whatta fag," he hands you change. Once the laughter subsides, Frank's face grows somewhat forlorn and dark. You begin to wonder what's wrong, but then he speaks up.

"F-f/n, about what happened last night- earlier I mean, I am so sorry."