Never Get to Heaven

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Four: Broken Glass Party

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"EUGH! Acid Jazz!" Ken squealed upon switching on the radio a few
mornings later. The sun was doing a polka all over the earth and the birds
singing up a regular Hello Dolly kind of musical, but he couldn't hear any
of it over the interminable saxophone swell that burst over the speakers
encamped around the driver's side of the Weiss van. Even while
grappling with the switches under the dash for the volume control, the
tuner, the OFF switch! Any of them! He still heard Kuudou laughing like a
drunk banshee in the next room and a few seeking bubble orbs came
puttering into the space he occupied. Spies! Spies all of them. The mark
of the deranged. He could not find one switch and watch the road at the
same time, so it was with the utmost alacrity of speech he bemoaned and
becursed his fate.

Aya sighed rather stiffly and granted his two more sedate companions a
faint glance over the rim of his novel- the playboy had a Playboy and a
bottle of cheap American beer. Omi looked like a happy toy and was
looking over a Happy Toy... He wondered if he looked like a hard-boiled
detective sitting there reading Little Sister for the fifteenth time. Peering
into the varnish on the coffee table found no such luck. No, he had every
bit the guise of a nervous young man with something to hide, and so,
accordingly, he ducked back behind his pages and tried to think himself
into Philip Marlow. That, as with many wonderful things, didn't work.
Naturally.

After all, there was one concern in him unwilling to go sliding off into
someone else's sweet delusions about the basic goodness of reality. A
promise that would not go lfillfilled, no matter how much he wished it
would, just this once.

/I said I would be him. I can't be a liability. If I don't do this, I will be./

Even if he had said he would "do this" a good hour ago BEFORE Ken
decided it was his turn to drive and literally kicked Youji into the back
rooms. Bubbles. Aya looked up and found himself surrounded by them.
One popped on the end of his nose and made him sneeze. As if such a
happening was beyond bizarre, both of his companions burst out laughing.
One fell in a torrent of bubble soap.

"Aya-kun! Don't be mad!" Omi plead between his giggles, tearing adds
from his smut to soap up the eewy-gooey suds, though Youji was doing
pretty well with that; himself and his clothing.

"I'm not mad, I'm just going to go talk to Ken." The mildness of his own
words startled him, and therein proof he needed help and lots of it! He had
to send his bugbears away. Why, no one would have the least bit respect
for him if he wasn't firm and imposing like a good little leader!

Although, recollections of one moment of weakness were the cause of all
this, buat hat had to be different- the temptation lead into by beauty...

He nodded to them, as if saying 'carry on' and his Chandler book clasped
between his hands, he stepped into the front of the van. The music had
stopped but a moment before, and the air now smelled the sweet nothings
of air conditioner breeze rather than bearing any sound. Ken played
imaginary guitar to himself and did not design to stop even with the plain
sound of footsteps behind him.

"Oh no, Youji!" he snickered, "You're not going to get me with the silly
string this time!"

"I'm Aya," said Aya.

"Oh, hey Aya!" said Ken. "Didn't figure it'd be you."

"They're too loud for me."

A pair of small nods passed between them as the swordsman took his seat
and opened his book, even though he really DIDN'T want to read another
word. A moment of time could be wasted by buckling his seat belt, which
he did, and his companion gave him a bit of a smile for it. Positive
reinforcement he supposed- he WASN'T in the habit of using the thing.
Little Sister stayed in his lap even now his lap had been crossed and the
sun snuck closer and closer to noon. He looked and Ken to find Ken
wasn't looking at him.

"Am I bothering you?"

"Course not! Even if I was just about a ask you the same thing."

"No, I'm alright thank you." His book though fell open to a random page
and he moved his mark to sit there as if it had all been planned before. He
paid it no attention of course, and rather gazed with sullenly deep eyes out
the side window and then the front.

The street before them wound around itself and short seemed to burst into
soul white flames in patches. The first few zinged past and only after they
had gone skidding by did the swordsman realize they were but broken
glass. "Kire..." he still mumbled to himself, hoping he had not been heard
above the drone of the engine.

"Wow, looks like somebody really got nailed along here..." his
companion whistled in dismay for the unknown careless driver, or so it
seemed to Aya, who wanted to turn and look at him just then, but rather
slumped just that much deeper into holding his cheek away from the glass.

"No, it doesn't really look like a windshield. More like someone threw
something and it broke."

"Hmm... I guess you're right," so they pulled into another turn and this
time, slowed along the curve and a few shinning fragments crinkled under
the tires. Probably didn't cut them. (Ran hoped theyn't.n't. ) "Wonder
what it was then, you know. I mean, maybe it was just some wine bottle,
or maybe it was like somethin' important. Like a vase."

"Vases aren't that itanttant."

"Right, right, I was having trouble thinking of something glass that is.
Besides windows and all, since it doesn't look like one. Not a mirror
either. Weird. I never thought about that before. Glass ain't got anything
but sentimental value, now has it? Kinda like in that song... how did it
go?" Ken's attempts to recall went on for some minutes, and when he did,
everyone within earshot promptly wished that he hadn't, because Ken's
singing voice was farcically awful. "'There's a dream that strings the
road/with broken glass for us to hold'." But did he ever sound happy when
he sang! "Do you know who does that? 'cause damnit, I don't."

"No, I don't."

"'Can rea read my mind/can you see in the snoooooooooow'. Ah, s'ok."

"Hey Ken?"

"Mmm?"

"I think I have a thing for my sister."

SCRRRRRREEEEEEEE went the breaking gears of Ken's sanity and
SCRRRRRREEEEEEEE went the tires on the van as it skidded to a halt,
for the driver, out of nothing but shock, had slammed his foot on the break
as hard as he could. He looked back later and was utterly unable to
ascertain exactly right, but then again, he was drunk and laughing at the
time, as he was, during the original occurrence, absolutely not (though he
wished he had been). All lot of other things made really neat noises too!
Youji flying off the couch for one, and the sound of his beer making a
fizzy mess this time as it managed to escape from bottle. Omi managed to
keep his seat. None of the flowers did. A lot of them went CRACK and
SPLAT and RUFFLE RUFFLE *sound of stems snapping*. Drawers fell
too, and pots and pans and bottle and the fridge, which came out of it's
cubby and fixed itself a nice, icy puddle in the middle of the carpet that
began exactly where the linoleum for the kitchen area ended.

"WHAT THE GODDAMN BLOODY FUCK!?"

Blushing furiously, Aya got to his feet and calmly made his way back into
the living quarters, book clasped to his chest where he much rather would
have clamped it over his face, even though his faced his companions every
single day knowing he had failed at so many other things. Even freeing
his own broken glass mind.

Ken, meanwhile, suddenly remembered something the jarring stop and
even more jarring reprimand he was presently getting from Omi, shook
loose in his head.

"Oh yeah! That song's 'Is There Something I Should Know' by Duran
Duran. DUH!" He also banged his own head on the steering wheel then
and set the horn off just as someone rear-ended the trailer. "Oh irony, you
really suck."

End Notes:

It has come to my attention that there actually WAS a picture drawn by the
original mangaka of Aya wearing glasses and holding a book. I'm not
sure where I heard he liked the stories about Raymond Chandler though.

If you watch in the OVA, Youji is actually drinking Budweiser I believe,
hence his not having a nice Asahi (even though there's no contest, Asahi is
much more delightful).

Happy Toy is a hard core shota mag. Does that mean Omi's gay? I'm not
sure, you'll have to keep reading to find out! :P

No, I don't actually have anything against Acid Jazz.