SEX AND THE BOY ✓

ONCE UPON SOME BASKETBALL JOCKS

"SO I WAS LIKE, SINCE Cain and Abel were like the only humans on earth and Cain was apparently labelled as the first murderer in human history," Gerard pauses with a sip of the Myx Moscato smuggled from the Slayberrys' fridge, "how did he know hitting his brother's head would kill him?"

Kaolin and Drake gape in surprise, Pharrell continually digs into the bucket of hot wings, Leroi is disinterested as he stares away into the casino while question marks merry-go-round over Troy's head.

"Hell even then, nobody would even still know it's possible to die by the hands of a fellow human," Drake adds, reclining into his hands folded at the back of his head. His dirty blonde mane is tousled back as a backward frill that compliments his face shape.

With a belch reeking of piss and old wine, Drake continues, "I got the Jehovah Witness--"

"Ew!" Pharrell interjects, blowing his scrunched face. "What did you suck this time, a sewer rat's weener?"

"And I oop." Kaolin chortles into his palm.

"Anyways, I got the Jehovah Witness girl pressed like Kim Kardashian titties in A-cups."

"Coughs--sugarcoated--coughs--misogyny--coughs."

"Oh shut your pussy ass down, Pharrell and let me finish my story," Gerard spits before stepping on the motorcycle game, stretches his fingers before laying them on the wheels. "I'm bored. Who's getting slaughtered first?"

Drake chuckles in reply. "It's on, white boy."

The game starts with some kind of Imagine Dragons beat and it gets Kaolin nodding his head. Leroi gives that head striped down to the nape with cornrows a negatively meaningful look. If knives could actually be conjured from sleeves, Kaolin's head would've been a cushion.

This is his "pathetic" gang of friends. Gerard Whitler is the one with pottymouth that can literally trash even garbage, his parents are bloody rich and he's the white version of Leroi. Wilder, less pampered and more free. Drake Cabello is the neutral one. Nothing fazes him and he takes it all with a pinch of salt and a cautious magnifying lens. Pharrell Davidson enjoys disagreeing with anything they plan for; he initially argued to visit the carnival instead. Turns out his suggestions are the worst. Troy Cannon is the typical clueless jock and Kaolin is plain old Kaolin.

"I swear a day is coming when I'll literally stuff that diarrhea mouth with a plunger," Pharrell laments in the midst of gurgling Sprite with the heat from the wings scalding his mouth.

Leroi spares the KFC bucket a glance and contemplates asking or in other words, demanding some from the green-haired boy. "Nevermind, I'm getting mine."

The sourest of Leroi's mood this week, and it's just Tuesday, is unsurprisingly due to Kaolin. The latter called him moments to leaving the house that he's coming along with a date and going to borrow his Ferrari to pick up the girl. It's a boys' night out and Kaolin made a dick move, in Leroi's perspective, but maybe he's just exaggerating it? The other boys don't seem so bothered.

"Oh here comes the bitch." It comes out as whisper, though unintentional and he curses his diaper mouth.

"Hey K. What did I miss?" Noisily popping the cherry lollypop out her equally cherry lips, Margaret tucks her left forearm with her right elbow, waving the sweet.

Kaolin smiles so warm at her Leroi feels bitter anti-peristalsis hitting his trachea. "Nothing much babe. Come here." He wraps his arms around her chubby stump of a neck and his lips in a pout on her nose. She giggles.

"Nice babushka," Troy's acute ultramarine eyes soaks up her pear shape like silica gel.

"Not to sound like a fag or something," Pharrell swallows the bolus down, "but it really matches your skin."