|The Basta Rant
Author: Shekiah Rosay PM
It's pretty much what the title implies. If Basta could tell the world a few things that are wrong with his life, he'd start off with this. It's short, it's dumb, and in my opinion pretty funny. So read it.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Words: 611 - Reviews: 16 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 1 - Published: 05-24-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4276298
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
So I found this is the old files and wondered why I never posted it. It's really short and even dumber than it is short, but I thought it might make a few people laugh. And for what other reason do I do what I do? Oh, no ownage of the Inkheart. By the way.
Hello, my name is Basta.
It's short for "badass."
Yes, I'm aware it sounds nothing like "badass" – take my word for it.
I'm a super-awesome amazing fire-raiser. Well, I was a fire-raiser. Now I just like to impale things on knives. You know… pillows, wood, pieces of fruit, small children, furry animals… the list goes on. The fire thing stopped working for me. Yes, there's a story there, but I don't feel like telling it.
My main job is to be Capricorn's wingman – apparently, this means I'm supposed to look like a dumbass to keep him looking cool. I'm the one that carries out all the evil plans THAT SUCK ANYWAY, and of course I fail miserably. This has gotten me landed in some crappy house out in the wilderness that sucks EVEN MORE THAN MY OWN HOUSE (yeah, apparently that's possible), in a dungeon with some super-ego twelve-year-old ho, and in a burning mill. This has mostly resulted because of Dustfinger.
I'm a little bitter.
Basically, I've been sticking around for the free food – not that it's really that good anyway. I mean, we make the maids cook, and they mostly just make pasta or something. And then the other guys tease me because 'pasta' is like one letter off from my name. But it beats a hell of a lot of other things they could be teasing me about.
And I'm evidently the one in charge of keeping track of the dogs, too. Stupid dogs. I never liked them either. They don't listen to me, and it's probably Dustfinger's fault.
A lot of things are Dustfinger's fault.
You want to know something else that's Dustfinger's fault?
The fact that I'm not living with Roxane the hottie – instead, I'm living in a dilapidated village with about a hundred other thirty-year-old guys and a few so-so looking maids. The maids are mostly all sleeping with said other thirty-year-old guys already anyway. I mean, except of course for all of the gay ones.
The guys, not the maids.
I'd say a good 1/3 of them are gay. I've come to the conclusion that it's because they haven't left this stupid village in a good decade or so and have forgotten what women look like – women that don't spend all day scrubbing floors and doing their laundry.
Yeah, I bet you didn't guess that about him, did you?
My gaydar is right-on, let me tell you. Not that calling him out would require a good gaydar. I remember this one time when I was forced to share an apartment with him. Yeah – that's why I live in my own house now. On the OTHER SIDE of the village. I choose not to remember those days.
But back to Roxane – mind if I talk about her a little bit more?
Basically she's amazing. She has this amazing hair that's all long and silky and these crazy-hot green eyes… I bet a few other things about her are amazing too. But I wouldn't know. And guess whose fault that is.