The Firefly Field Theory

|12| Don't You Dare Laugh: Part IV

PART IV:

“Hey you guys eating already?” Z asks offended, “Granola bar please.”

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Apparently even Omi is not oblivious to this poorly disguised distraction. He slides the back of his seat to an obtuse angle, hunches over the back and clutches the grey foam. His bald head grazes the roof slightly, he’s positioned exactly above Bravo’s head and if she looks up their noses might collide.

“Doing what?” Bravo has got a very un-lady-like cracker stuffed mouth so possibly to avoid freak him out, she doesn’t look up.

“Distracting everybody. Don’t play dumb, it’s your turn.” Omi says to Bravo.

She gulps down and clears her throat, “I’m eating.”

“Not a good enough excuse.”

Just then Bravo jerks her head up, and is immediately sent into perpetual surprise, her cheeks go into that hyper drive thingy they go into, in embarrassing situations. The site of the bald monkey dangling from the back of his seat looking down at her, merely inches from her face could choke her and proud of her bravery when she manages to say, “I don’t want to play.”

Omi inches forward, and I’m about to say, hey get out of her face it’s gonna blow, when he outdraws me, “Here’s my random question, Bravo, do you wanna have lunch at my place after we get back from the trip?”

Where in the name of peanuts did that come from?  That was completely uncalled for. Bravo’s eyes widen enough to scare me. I’m torn between landing a punch in Omi’s expectant smirking face and landing my foot in Wall-e’s awestruck coke dripping mouth. The much needed fire ignites from the driver’s seat, “DID YOU JUST ASK MY LITTLE SISTER OUT? WHILE BOTH HER STRONG MUSCULAR BROTHERS ARE SITTING RIGHT HERE WITH YOU!” Z yells and lands a slap on Omi’s but. Now maybe Z is a little muscular, but how is Wall-e anywhere near that?

Z still gripping the wheel with one hand yanks at Omi’s pants with the other, making him retreat to the passenger seat like a yoyo. Leaving Wall-e to grab some tissues to wipe the coke that dripped onto his pants, me to fan Bravo’s face with my hands in hope of putting out the fire in it and Bravo to grow as red as her bandana.

“So what? We’re best friends dude.”

“Don’t you dude me! I was the one who said you should come along, stop being a creep and insulting the both of us!”

“Aaa…sorry?”

“You better be you horny bald man!”

“What? She’s been to my house multiple times! Back when she didn’t even wear pants!”

“WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY!”

“What am I trying to say?”

“THAT’S WHAT I ASKED YOU!” Z thunders.

And then all our attention is diverted to the muted mumble that comes from the madly mega blushy girl, “Calm down. It’s just lunch.”

“So that’s a yes?” Omi perks up, twists his head back with an enormous smile on his face.

“Yeah.”

He’s staring right at her, “Great.” Bravo looks up and says, “Great” Z ruins the little moment by slapping an open palm onto Omi’s scalp, making his head bobble forward, “Don’t think this is over baldy!”

“Shut up! She said yes.”

“Maybe she’s taking pity on your baldness!”

“Drive you ass.”