Have Faith: Life and Times of a Glorious Asshole

A Good Day With the Goodie-Gang

Week four of life with the Goodie-Gang.
I was beginning to sense a pattern.

Eric would send us all out for a bit, and when we'd come back, there'd be throngs of girls leaving.  He would constantly smell like smoke, but he owned no cigarettes that I knew of.  Though, he did own many "prescription" pills.

Thomas would write letters constantly to someone yet he'd never send them.  He'd say he was about to, but, with my constant snooping into his room, I would find the letters enclosed in envelopes.  There would be no name or address on any.

Vanessa would have moments where she'd go off alone whenever someone would bring up the topic of vampires.  We'd hear scuffling noises from the room she'd disappear into.

It seems even the good guys have secrets.

I didn't mind at all, though. I'd have secrets of my own.  The constant waking up in a cold sweat and the fact I would constantly sneak out to do my own thing.

And by my own thing, I mean hijacking cars.
Well, a girl's gotta have a hobby.
And, on the bright side, I'm old enough to have a license.

I was finding myself slowly accepting the fact my roomies were a bunch of monster slaying mother fuckers.
In fact, I was considering joining them.

What can I say? I'm an action loving asshole.
Also, violence and I are old pals.

Vanessa had taken me down the basement where she, Eric, and Thomas had set up a training room.  Her surprise was evident when I showed her I knew quite a bit of MMA fighting myself.

I think she tried to ask me how, but, hey, she's mute. I could easily pretend not to notice.

Before you think anything terrible about me, I have something to say in my defense.

"Ace Araya is NOT a good person."

Needless to say, I had to stay extra cordial with Vanessa if I hoped to stay on her good side after that.
I don't blame her.

I'd be pissed if someone didn't tell me about their secret badass MMA fighting skills too.

So, one day, I struck luck by having a chance to learn more about my gun wielding, 'let's-save-people-and-blow-flowers-up-their-assholes', virtuous roomies.

This little narrative starts off oh, so peacefully.  It was a bright, sunny day.  Birds were singing outside.  Flowers were blooming.  Storks were carrying babies home to their mothers and Santa Claus was having his fill of dick flavored cookies.
All was well.

Thomas was squabbling with Eric over the remote on one of the couches.

"We are not watching the Jersey Shore!" Thomas yelled. "Those bitches are fucking crazy!"
Eric scowled. "I actually quite enjoy watching people make fools of themselves!" He yelled. "What're you gonna turn on? Project Runway?"

Thomas froze and gasped, clutching righty onto the remote which he had torn from Eric's grasp. "Are you suggesting I watch Project Runway? Because I'm gay?!" He cried out in anger.

Eric regarded him silently, his left eye twitching in annoyance.  "Thomas-" he said lowly.
"I WAS going to turn on Naked and Afraid, but fuck you!" Thomas cried out. "I am turning on Project Runway!" He snapped.

"Oh, no you don't!" Eric shouted, trying to wrench the remote from him.

I stood behind the couch, my arms folded.  "Are you guys done arguing whether or not you should have some screen time with Snooki or Tim Gunn?" I asked. "If not, I can easily take on the remote and turn on Impractical Jokers."