"What's up with Walt?"
Steve Dave ran his fingers through his messy and unkempt hair as he turned his head to the left, sighing. He pursed his lips to one side then the other and twisted his face into the classic expressions and confused contemplation.
Walt . . . why exactly is he so touchy? I called him about nine times and his Mom said he never came home and she was really worried about that. I assured her I was just kidding and that he was at my house and we were just playing some stupid joke. She said it was believable. I must be really good at lying. Or she thinks I'm an idiot. Would I really call someone over and over again with such a childish prank to run around afterwards, giggling like an idiot? He shrugged to himself. Why didn't he go home? And why did he not inform me of something? It wasn't all that mean. I have said worse things. Have I gone too far? Maybe he was tired of the abuse . . . nah, that's not possible. He doesn't know any better. Where is he?
He had spent about an hour sitting motionless before he started calling to check for Walt. He
spent an hour of so just calling periodically and thinking about Walt. It had not occurred to him until much later to actually think about searching for him. He gathered some stuff into a messenger bag of his and headed out the door to look for Walt. To start, he headed for the comic book shop. When he didn't find Walt cuddled up in a dusty corner clutching a "Wonder Woman" in his hands, he was astounded. So he sat down and read a few "Tank Girl"s. Eventually, he remembered what he was supposed to do. And the search was on again!
Walt lay on the grassy lawn of his cousin's house. Although, his cousin was home and when he came outside he yelled at him, "Hey, Walt, what are you doing in my front yard?"
"Uh, Nothing, Jim."
"Well, jeez, just come inside."
"So, what are you doing here? Do you want to talk about it?"
"Well . . . actually, I don't remember."
"Walt, you're an idiot."
"Ah, that's not nice."
"And I'm not just saying this because I'm your cousin. You really are an idiot. You're a complete and utter moron. Seriously, it's as if you have no brain whatsoever in that fat head of yours. Do you even think for yourself? Where is that guy you're always with? Isn't he like your gay lover of something?"
"Oh, now I remember! Ooo, I'm upset."
"I could tell, dumb ass. So, why?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"What? Why not?"
"I just don't."
"Come on, you can tell me. I mean, I know I don't even like you or anything and I'm constantly cruel to you and I'm your cousin, but you can tell me."
"Oh, okay. Steve Dave called me a whore."
"What? Is that all? Walt, you are a whore."
"Hey!" Walt starts sniffling.
"Why does that bother you so much? How do you know he wasn't joking?"
"He sounded mad when he said it."
"Then maybe he said it out of anger."
"Well . . ."
"What? It's not like you're a dirty slut, raped at an early age, or anything."
Walt didn't say a word in response.
Still, he didn't answer.
"Hey, Walt," his cousin began to inquire with a tiny iota of concern in his voice.
"Uh, yeah, I don't want to talk about it."
"Um, okay. But are you sure you don't ant to talk to your friend about it?"
"Why?" He pouted, folding his arms over each other.
"Because he's your best friend, right?"
"Or maybe more than that . . . "
"Hey! Shut up! I am not bay with Steve Dave."
"Yeah." Still pouting.
"He doesn't like you that way?"
"NO! We're just not gay!"
"Okay. Because straight guys don't really have sleep-overs at your age."
"So! You're just jealous!"
"And they don't play naked robber."
"We're . . . best friends. He's more like an annoyed older brother than a friend."
"So, why agin don't you want to talk to him about this?"
"I . . . don't know. Do you think I should?"
"Would it keep you off my lawn?"
"Okay! I'll do it!"
"Great. That only took forever."
Walt bounded out of the room and down to Steve Dave's house.
As he bounced there, he knocked over someone.
"I'm sorry," Walt screamed in apology.
"Oh, do I know you?"
Steve Dave stood up and shook himself off.
"I've been looking everywhere for you!"
"Listen, Walt, I came to find you because I wanted to tell you that I don't think you're a man slut. And I don't hate you. And I didn't mean to be an ass."
"Thanks, Steve Dave. You're so great."
"What? I called you a whore, you cried and ran away and now all of a sudden I'm great?"
"Steve Dave, you're like a brother to me. And I wanted to thank you for that."
"Okay . . . So, uh, I still don't have any plans for the reunion. Would you . . . like to come with me?"
"I'd love to!"
"Really? And so, you forgive me?"
"Great! So, do you want to get ready, or are you fine as is?"
"I just have to go change real quick. I have grass stains all over my jeans."
Sitting on the couch, Steve Dave waited for Walt, just twiddling his thumbs. Twenty minutes had passed when Steve Dave finally got up and screamed at the stairway.
"What the hell is taking you so long, Walt?"
"I'll be down in a minute."
"Fine! Hurry up!"
More time spent on the couch, twiddling his thumbs. Another ten minutes had slipped away and Steve Dave was getting really frustrated.
"Walt! What the fu-" Steve Dave was interrupted by a form on the top of the steps.
The form came closer, as it did Steve Dave could determine a beautiful young woman with a short skirt and an interesting form-fitting top. There was a corset on the outside, covering her stomach. The corset was made out of what seemed to be a red silk material. She had long, dangling earrings, a jeweled choker and her hair drawn up into a high bun.
". . . hi? Are you a friend of Walt's sister?"
She didn't speak. Instead she shook her head a smiled a little as she came closer to him. Her lips were thick and juicy, colored red just like the corset. Elegantly, she held herself as she glided down the stairs. She wasn't skinny, on the contrary, she was quite thick but she was very pretty.
"Hey, could you tell Walt to hurry up or we're going to be late?"
Steve Dave's eyes nearly popped out of his head. It was Walt's voice coming out of that lovely woman. HOLY CRAP! That's not a woman! It' Walt! And she's not lovely or beautiful! She's Walt! Ah! Walt! Ah! NO! Walt! Ah, no! Help me! My eyes!
"What's the matter, Steve Dave?"
"Ah! That's not what I meant! I meant you could come with me as you, you dork. I didn't want you to dress up like a woman!"
"Well, you wanted a date."
"Not a guy!"
"But come on, I make a pretty good girl."
"I will not admit that! Ever!"
"So, you don't want to go with me?"
"Not like a woman!"
"But won't everyone be impressed that you got a girlfriend?"
"Or a boyfriend!"
"Come on, Steve Dave!"
"Please! I want to help out! And I want to go!"
"How did you get like that so quickly? Did you already have that outfit ready?"
"Eww, Walt! There are so many things I don't know about you. And that I don't want to know."
"Come on, you're running out of time and you know you want to impress our peers."
"And what if they ask where you are?"
"Like they care."
"Well, you have a point." When he said this, Walt pushed his lower lip out.
"They don't really care if I'm there or not either, Walt."
"Yeah." Walt stared down at his long fingernails.
"Walt, is there a special reason why you were so ready to dress up like a girl even though I didn't ask you to."
"No, I just want to make you happy, Steve Dave. You're my hero."
"Yeah, I am a hero, aren't I?" Steve Dave smirks proudly to himself.
"You're mine." Walt beams happily at his hero.
"Fine! We'll go together. You'll pretend to be my girlfriend. But you have to practice a more feminine voice."
"No problem," Walt chirped in his most lovely, delicate yet deep mature woman voice.
"Damn, you scare me sometimes, Walt."
"Sorry," he said again in his own voice.
"Never mind. Let's just go."
"No, wait, Steve Dave, we can't go yet."
"Look at you. You look like a mess. I will not be seen at this reunion with such a wreck of a man as my date!"
"Uh . . ."
"Let's dress you up, too!"
"Holy sh-" Before he could finish, Walt dragged him kicking and screaming up to his room to get ready for the reunion.