You stared at the clock in the front of the classroom anxiously; class was supposed to have started five minutes ago and your teacher was nowhere in sight. Another five minutes and you would be free to leave and spend the rest of the class period hanging around outside the school restrooms, popping out of nowhere and scaring people with full bladders so they would make a mess that one of the school’s disgruntled janitors would be forced to clean up later.
…You really needed to find yourself a new hobby.
You watched the second hand slowly move around the clock’s face with longing. Getting out of class would be nothing short of heavenly. It wasn’t as if the class was awful or anything like that but, really, who wouldn’t want to have a break from the monotony of filling out worksheets and throwing paper airplanes when the teacher’s back was turned. That and you were tired of the kid behind you shooting spitballs at the back of your head. What a douche bag.
With thirty seconds left to go, you bit your lip in anticipation as you counted the remaining time in your head, eyes glued to the clock like a teenage boy staring at a Playboy centerfold for the very first time. Well, minus the drooling. You wiped the back of your sleeve against your mouth just to be sure.
With only ten seconds remaining, the door to the classroom burst open. The lights blinked off and an ominous wind blew through the classroom causing papers to fly and your hair to tangle into what would vaguely resemble a crow’s nest if crows had a tendency to work with powerful explosives. You paid your hair disaster little mind as a shadowed figure lurked in the doorway a moment, observing your class with glowing eyes, before slinking inside the room with the door slamming shut behind it. The lights flashed back on, burning many students’ retinas as the figure’s form was revealed.
Standing at the head of your class was a large man; tall with broad shoulders and sporting a business suit and tie that looked out of place on him. His mouth and head were completely covered up; you found that to be rather odd but not quite as odd as the strange green eyes that seemed to survey the room and narrow in a combination of disgust and annoyance. Most of the faculty within the school gave you and the majority of your peers that look so you didn’t even bother with feeling indignant. Instead, you simply snorted as the man sat on top of your teacher’s desk, making himself comfortable.
“Sorry I’m late, class. Some bum outside tried to ask me for change so I had to teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget.”
The class stared on in silent shock.
Slowly, you raised your arm in the air. “Um, uh, sir… where is Mr. Ebisu?”
“Mr. Ebisu is… tied up at the moment” he said with a casual shrug, obviously not really caring about the unknown fate of your teacher. “I’m Mr. Kakuzu and I’ll be your substitute teacher for the day.”
Meanwhile, in a janitor’s closet on the opposite side of the school building…
Ebisu continued to struggle against his bonds but his attempts were useless. He was tied up so tightly he thought his ribs would snap right off. And it certainly didn’t help that his mouth was stuffed with a sweaty old gym sock and then taped shut. Seriously, what kind of guy does that sort of thing?! At the very least, his attacker could have used a clean sock; it was common attacker-to-victim courtesy, after all.
Of course, there was no way that his attacker possibly could’ve been able to take him down so easily if he hadn’t used such underhanded tactics such as punching him in the back of the skull when his head was turned. Only a cheating, meanie, poo-poo-head would do something like that! Fo’ shizzle! Ebisu was so mad he could bust a cap!
With his mouth set in the closest thing to a frown that a mouth covered in duct tape could make, Ebisu sighed through his nose, a soft whistling sound bursting forth from his nostrils. He just hoped that his students would be alright. Surely they would be struck with paralyzing fear and overwhelming waves of grief when they realized that he would not be there to feed their knowledge-hungry minds. Ebisu prayed that his class would be able to hold back their tears and go on without him.
“WOOOO! SUBSTITUTE TEACHER!”
“LET’S GO CRAZY!”
“EVERYBODY, TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES!”
The classroom erupted into complete and utter chaos. Your fellow students were talking in obnoxiously loud voices, dancing on top of desks, and throwing some of the weaker, less popular students into the nearby trash bins. Luckily, only one of the students seemed keen on the idea of removing his clothing and he decided to leave on his tighty-whities as well as his socks and shoes; for modesty’s sake, you assumed.
Not really in the mood to cause chaos and discord at the moment, you opted for laying your head down on your desk with a quiet thud and blocking out the sounds of mass destruction in hopes of getting some much-needed beauty sleep.
Kakuzu, however, was not a very happy camper.
“Okay, class, settle down. Calm yourselves, you little hellions. Alright, that’s enough of that… SHUT YOUR BIG FAT TRAPS AND PLANT YOUR BONY BUTTS IN YOUR SEATS BEFORE I RIP OUT ALL YOUR VOCAL CHORDS AND STRANGLE YOU ALL WITH THEM!”
Well, that certainly got the class’s full attention.
As one, the majority of the class stopped what they were doing and firmly planted their tushies into their cold metal public-school-brand seats. You simply raised your head from your desk and quirked an eyebrow. One student was still struggling to pull himself out of the trash can that he was thrown into but no one paid him any mind because no one really liked him anyway.
Kakuzu cleared his throat. “Ahem, yes, thank you all for your cooperation.” He placed a briefcase atop the teacher’s desk and a black messenger bag on the floor beside it. “Enough time has already been wasted so let’s get to work, shall we?”
The entire class groaned as Kakuzu pulled a stack of worksheets out from his briefcase. He shot the class a glare that shut them all back up. And, judging by the smell, he probably caused one of your classmates to lose control of their bowels. You pinched your nose between your thumb and index fingers and cursed your luck for being seated next to the kid in class who could now use a change of clean underwear.
You shook your head and sighed; this was going to be the longest class period of your life.
Kakuzu continued on, ignoring the muttered protests of several students. “Today’s lesson will be on figuring out how to work out an individual’s state income taxes and, if we have time, we’ll start on federal taxes in the last half hour of class. Got it, you scoundrels?”
“Um, Mr. Kakuzu,” said a girl sitting at a desk in the front of the room, “This is Spanish class.”
Seconds later, the girl was unconscious and sprawled across the linoleum floor, a Chinese star deeply embedded in her forehead. Discreetly, you grabbed a ruler to lightly prod and jab at the girl’s ribs. She flinched at the contact; she was still alive.
Kakuzu surveyed the class, his eyes surprisingly calm. “Anyone else want to be a smart ass?”
The class remained silent.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
You raised your hand again. “Um, Mr. Kakuzu?” He sighed and rolled his eyes; you took it as a sign to continue. “Shouldn’t someone take her to a school nurse?” you asked, pointing to the unconscious student on the ground. “She’s losing a lot of blood; my sneakers are starting to turn red.”
Kakuzu pulled a book off of the teacher’s desk, flipping through it with disinterest. “Then have your mother buy you a new pair” he replied in nonchalance, sticking a finger under his face covering and licking it before turning the page of his text.
“That… wasn’t exactly the point I was trying to make.” But your words were ignored along with the twitching girl on the floor who was bleeding all over your favorite tennis shoes. Seriously, how rude! Here you are, trying to get her medical attention and she continues to dirty your footwear with her disgusting bodily fluids. Sheesh! That was the last time you’d ever do anything nice for her.
Kakuzu forced one of the other girls in your class to pass around a worksheet. You took your own worksheet grudgingly and decided to get to work in the hopes that you would finish early so that you could spend the rest of the period sleeping. You brought the paper up to your face and began to read over the first problem.
This is Stanley. Stanley lives in California with his two dependants; his life partner Hans Van Glutenheimer and their adopted African baby Click-Cluck. Stanley makes $50,000 a year at his job performing and cleaning up at the donkey shows. This year, Stanley also donated $5,000 to the NLCAA (also known as the National Leather Chaps Appreciation Association). How much would Stanley have to pay for his state income tax? Bonus question: Where is the nearest store that sells a decent pair of ass-less leather chaps that don’t make my butt look like cottage cheese and what is the name of that store?
You blinked. You had absolutely no idea how to solve the problem. Heck, you didn’t even know what a donkey show was! You did, however, know what ass-less chaps were though you kind of wished that you didn’t. You shuddered.
You considered raising your hand and asking Kakuzu how to go about finding the answer to the problem but you had the feeling that his patience for you was already wearing thin. You weren’t in the mood to receive any major head injuries from a psychotic substitute. Not today. With a sigh, you decided to kill time by doodling a picture of Kakuzu riding a donkey and wearing a pair of ass-less leather chaps where your answer should be. You looked over your stick figure masterpiece appraisingly but you couldn’t help but feel that something was missing… Aha! With a stroke of genius, you realized the problem and gave your Kakuzu doodle a handlebar mustache. Perfect!
The shrill, shriek of a bell echoed within the classroom walls, signaling that it was time to leave for a lunch break. The class exploded into cheers as students jumped from their seats, stampeding towards the class exit like a herd of wild elephants.
“…Did I say that you could leave for lunch?”
Dark tendrils shot out from Kakuzu’s pants legs, sleeves, and mouth cover; the frightful scene was enough to cause most of the students to freeze in fear, yourself included. Those who still had the ability to move made a run for the door but their attempts to escape proved to be useless; the black tendrils wrapped around ankles, wrists, and even the necks of an unlucky few.
You gaped at the scene, ignoring the boy by your side who was making choking sounds in your ear as his face slowly changed to a lovely shade of royal blue. You gawked at Kakuzu, eyes wide and mouth open like a slack-jawed moron. You had just come to the realization that your substitute teacher was an over-glorified tentacle monster. …And you were just a young, defenseless school girl.
You had looked at enough inappropriate anime on the internet to know that things would not end well.
Kakuzu ignored the panic-stricken expressions of you and your classmates. “The bell does not dismiss you; I do. You punks can leave after I collect your worksheets.” One of the pseudo-tentacles swept across the desks, collecting all the loose papers before placing them gently in Kakuzu’s right hand. He looked over the papers with a bored expression and the tendrils released their prisoners and slowly slinked back beneath Kakuzu’s clothes to return wherever they belonged.
Kakuzu continued to flip through all the worksheets, looking over each paper for barely a second before moving on to the next one. You hoped he’d get a paper cut.
“Okay… You’re all free to go to lunch.”
Yes! You rushed towards the door along with the rest of your classmates, trying but failing to push past anyone who stood in your way and trampling on the faces of the smaller, weaker students. You awkwardly jumped onto the shoulders of the burliest student in class. Once securely settled into place and positive that you wouldn’t fall off any time soon, you dug the heel of your foot into his side to urge him on faster. With a sound strangely akin to a whinny, the boy sped up, galloping past the other students to the exit. Just before you were able to pass through the door, something thin and cold wrapped around your ankle, violently pulling you backwards as your ride ran off without you. You were thankful that you had decided to wear a pair of pants instead of a skirt because you soon found yourself hanging upside down in midair, Kakuzu’s hardened gaze glaring daggers into your skull.
“…Except for you. You have lunch detention.”
“Huh? What for?!” you cried indignantly; perhaps, in your great desire to escape from the shackles of the educational establishment, you forgot that he was a mutant freak who could easily murder you, take advantage of your corpse, and throw your remains in the nearest dumpster.
He held up the worksheet you had turned in, his brows furrowed to create an ugly expression as he pointed to your doodle with his left index finger.
You sighed. “Everybody’s a critic.”
Kakuzu ignored your comment in favor of dong something less stupid. He stared at you long and hard; behind that mouth cloth of his or whatever it was called, you were sure he was frowning. “You…”
“Sit at your desk and remain silent. You will stay there for the entire lunch period.”
You raised an eyebrow. “All this for doodling a picture of you?”
“As well as neglecting to do your assignment, yes” he answered, a stern look in his eyes. “Besides,” he added, gesturing towards your doodle, “This looks nothing like me. I don’t have a mustache.”
Darn! He got you there! But, he had to admit, a mustache would look rather flattering on him.
“I’m going to grab my lunch from the cafeteria. You’re going to keep your butt in your chair and your mouth sealed shut while I’m gone. …And don’t even think of trying any funny business; I’ve got eyes and ears all over this room.”
You hoped he meant figuratively rather than literally; you didn’t like the thought of finding a burlap sack full off severed human body parts, though you wouldn’t put it past him to have one.
Kakuzu fixed you with one last hardened glare, to which you replied by twiddling your thumbs and smiling as innocently as you could muster (which was so unconvincing that it was sad), before leaving the classroom and slamming the door behind him. You listened intently as the soles of his expensive Italian shoes clicked against the hallway tile until the sound faded away into silence. Once you were sure he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
“Sheesh, what a creeper” you muttered to yourself.
You frowned. Here you were, all alone in your classroom, and you were bored. You entertained the idea of taking Kakuzu’s briefcase and swapping the contents with the used chewing gum stuck to the bottom of your desk but decided against it. You liked having all your limbs intact, thank you very much! So instead of doing anything mildly entertaining you settled for tapping your fingers against the desktop and sighing forlornly and burping the alphabet song as obnoxiously as you could manage and being an all-around nuisance. You know; the usual stuff.
Just after you belched out an extremely loud “R” at a pitch that could shatter glass and traumatize orphans, you heard a queer sound. No, it wasn’t Mr. Orochimaru, the music teacher, squealing as he ogled all the little boys. It sounded more like a muffled scream. To test your theory, you took a deep breath and burped up the letter “S”.
Aha! There it was again! And it sounded as if it was coming from the classroom.
You felt a sudden lump grow in your throat. That sound could be anything! Or anyone for that matter! It could be that creepy student aide Kabuto with his rapist glasses. Or Jiraiya the overly-friendly janitor on another quest for the perfect jail bait. Or the gym teacher Mr. Gai and his reveal-all spandex. Heck, it could even be Mr. Kakuzu lurking in a dark corner to make sure that you were doing as you were told. Or worse, it could be that Shino kid. He was a nice guy and all, but he didn’t bathe and was often a breeding ground for lice and other such creepy crawlies and probably several forms of venereal diseases too.
Or maybe the sound came from the black messenger bag on the floor beside the teacher’s desk.
You raised an eyebrow as you stared at the messenger back; for a second there, you could have sworn you saw it wiggle a little bit. Odd. If all your years in school had taught you anything, it was that bags could not wiggle on their own. But you know what could wiggle? Kittens. And so, you put two and two together and came to the brilliant conclusion that Kakuzu had smuggled in a bag full of kittens.
Shucks, what were you doing in school, anyway? You’re just too darn smart for it! ROFFLE-COPTOR!
Intent to smuggle a kitten or two for yourself, you slinked towards the bag while humming the Mission Impossible theme song to yourself because, let’s face it, you were a horrible freak of nature. You rolled across the floor like a moron, most likely collecting a month’s worth of dirt in your hair and clothes. You stopped in front of the bag and promptly opened it.
Unfortunately, you were not met with the heart-warming sight of a litter of fluffy kittens.
Kakuzu frowned down at the tray in his hands, glaring at the slimy slop that had the audacity to call itself food. He wasn’t quite sure what the multi-colored blob was, though it smelled distinctly of spoiled mayonnaise and bologna that had been sitting out in the sun for far too long. Still, it was a free meal, so Kakuzu couldn’t afford to be picky. He would swallow down the pathetic excuse for a healthy lunch along with what little remained of his already broken pride.
Gathering his nerve, Kakuzu dipped his cheap public-school-quality plastic spork into the gelatinous substance and brought it to his eye-level. He pushed down the cloth that covered his mouth and shoveled the cafeteria food past his lips.
“That… wasn’t too terrible.”
And then the aftertaste hit him like a three-hundred-pound wife-beater with a baseball bat.
Kakuzu spat the food up, covering the floor and a couple unlucky students in a spray of chewed-up goo. He wiped the back of his sleeve across his mouth, ignoring the grumbles of the white-haired janitor as he mopped up the mess. Now, Kakuzu was by no means a connoisseur of foods, nor was he all that picky; heck, he’d lived a month on cat food and cat food alone simply because it had been on sale; but the cafeteria’s sad attempt at creating something half-edible was enough to make his stomach do somersaults.
Still, free food was free food…
Pinching his nose, Kakuzu raised the slop-filled spork back up to his mouth, preparing to take another bite of the wretched bile. Just as the pseudo-food was mere centimeters away from his open mouth, a high-pitched scream sounded, surprising Kakuzu and causing him to throw his spork in the air so that it painfully lodged itself in some poor kid’s nostril.
Kakuzu blinked; it almost sounded like the scream had come from his classroom. It must’ve been that annoying student with the big mouth, probably screaming randomly for some attention. Well, no big deal; he’d deal with it after lunch. With a sigh, Kakuzu reached for his black messenger bag that housed the terrible, horrible creature he had brought with him so that he could feed it, only to discover that the bag was not there.
Kakuzu’s eyes widened. He must’ve left the bag in the classroom! Suddenly the student’s scream seemed a lot less random.
“Son of a-”
Inside the bag was not a litter of kittens, but a severed human head. You screamed again, louder this time.
“You b****! Could you scream any louder? Seriously! Next time, how about you try screaming a little closer to my ears, you f***-nut. I’ve always wanted to go deaf.”
The head… The head just talked.
You knew you should’ve taken your pills today.
Too shocked to even scream, you ran towards the door as fast as your legs could carry you. With shaking hands, you reached for the handle and tried to turn it only to find that it wouldn’t turn. You jingled the doorknob but your attempts proved to be futile; you were locked in.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God, this can’t be happening!” you cried hysterically while tugging at your hair. “This is just some terrible nightmare my mind created as payback for me making it sit through all those reality television shows last night. Any minute now and I’m going to wake up and find myself lying on top of my desk with drool on my chin and permanent marker drawn on my face by that jerk that sits in the back of the classroom.”
“By the way,” the head continued as if everything were just dandy and you weren’t in the middle of a mental breakdown, “That burp-talking was f***ing disgusting. I’ve met packs of retarded monkeys who have better manners than you, and they fling their own s*** at each other on a daily basis! I swear, kids these days just get worse and worse every f***ing year.”
You stared at the window in the back of the classroom, trying to decide whether or not you could survive falling two stories down. Really, you’d probably just get a broken arm or leg as long as you didn’t land on your neck. But how would you break the window so you could jump in the first place. Maybe you could throw a desk at it? But you weren’t the strongest person around; even if you did manage to lift the desk, you doubted that you could throw the desk with enough force to break the window. Hmm…
“Hey! Stop staring off into space like some moron! Why don’t you make yourself useful and come over here and help me out. I’m going out of my f***ing mind!”
You eyed the head suspiciously but decided to cautiously approach it regardless. After all, the worst that could happen was that it might bite you but you doubted that would happen because the head seemed unable to go five seconds without speaking. Besides, enough time had passed for the initial shock and horror to wear off and now you were overcome with a sense of curiosity. How could a severed head talk without a throat, a diaphragm, or lungs?
You slowly crept back towards the head, plopping yourself down on your knees once you approached it. You leaned down, quirking an eyebrow as the head continued to scowl at you. “So,” you drawled, “What exactly do you want me to do?”
The head scrunched up its face in thought before tuning its full attention back to you. “Look, don’t get weirded out or anything, but it would be really helpful if you scratched my nose.”
“…You can’t be serious.”
“B****, if you were trapped in a bag for two months without your body, you’d want somebody to scratch your nose for you too.”
You stared down at the severed head long and hard. “How do I know that scratching your nose isn’t some freaky way that severed heads have sex and this isn’t all just some elaborate plot to get me to help get you off?”
“…” The head blinked up at you, lips instantly set in a grimace. “That… has got to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my entire life. Are you in the special needs class or something?!” It didn’t wait for you to respond. “Just hurry up and scratch my nose, you dumb f***!”
Startled by the outburst, you obeyed.
“Yeah, that’s nice…” the head grinned as you lightly scratched just above his left nostril.
Mentally, you decided to start referring to the head as a he because, one, it was obvious he was a male despite the lack of …ahem… certain male parts and, two, calling someone an it was rather rude.
“Scratch the other side a little bit too, would you?” You did. “Perfect. Kid, you’re a f***ing natural at this.”
So you were a natural at scratching noses? Awesome. With skills like that, who needed a high school diploma? Finally, you had found your sole purpose for living in this nutty cuckoo world; to scratch the noses of animate talking heads. Note the sarcasm, Jimmy-boy.
It was at that moment, when you had one hand placed on top of the head while the other worked furiously to scratch away the itch on his nose, Kakuzu burst through the door. He stared at the two of you, eyes wide as saucers, before the door slammed shut behind him and smacked him in that finely-toned tushie of his. He took a moment to recover, rubbing at his tender derrière before shouting; “What in the name of Madara’s left testicle is going on in here?!”
“Ah, Mr. Kakuzu! This isn’t…” You stopped yourself, looked down at what you were doing, then turned back towards Kakuzu. “Actually, this is exactly what it looks like.”
Kakuzu blinked. “Honestly, I can’t even tell what’s going on.”
“…It’s probably best that you don’t know.”
The severed head yawned rather loudly. “Are you two done being flaming retards yet?”
Kakuzu directed his attention down to the severed head, eyes narrowed into a glare powerful enough to strike down a newborn puppy. “I don’t know, Hidan. Are you finished being an intolerable pain in the ass?”
The head, Hidan, snarled. “Want to try saying that to my face, you fat sack of s***?!”
“I would, but your face is all the way down on the floor. By the way, how long have you been separated from your body this time?” Kakuzu questioned casually as if he were asking about the weather. “It seems I’ve lost count after the first week.”
“It’s been two months, you heathen c***-sucker, and you damn well know it!” If Hidan’s disembodied head could leap into the air and rip off Kakuzu’s ear with his teeth, you were pretty sure that he would have done so. “I swear to Jashin, as soon as I find where my body has run off to, I’m going to sodomize you with my own f***ing scythe. And not the blunt end of it, mind you; no, I’m talking about the end with three blades on it, you butt-ugly f***-face.”
You watched the man and the head of a man glare daggers at one another, unsure of what to do or say or if you should even do or say anything in the first place. In the end, you settled for watching a cockroach slowly scuttle Hidan’s way and briefly wondered if it would crawl on his face and lay eggs in his nostrils. You kind of hoped that it would, just for giggles.
The cockroach scurried on past Hidan and so you allowed you attention to wander to the clock in the front of the classroom. Your eyes widened when you saw the time; the school day was over! With a shrill cry of glee, you jumped in the air, clicked your heels together twice, and performed a triple back flip before landing on your left pinky finger and flipping one last time so that you were back on your own two feet.
“Mr. Kakuzu, can I go home now? School’s over.”
Kakuzu kept his eyes locked with Hidan’s; while your thoughts had wandered, the two of them had engaged themselves in a heated glaring contest of some sort. “Yeah, sure, whatever” he muttered disinterestedly, brushing you off with a wave of his hand. You did a little happy dance; similar in appearance to the ‘need-to-go-potty-dance’ but with your arms reaching towards the sky instead of your crotch; and rushed towards the door. You reached your hand to the handle and attempted to turn it only to find that it would not budge.
The door was still locked.
You frowned. “Mr. Kakuzu, could you unlock the door, please?”
With a frustrated sigh, Kakuzu broke his eye-contact with Hidan to turn to you, ignoring Hidan’s guttural threat of ‘Don’t-you-turn-your-f***ing-back-on-me’ with a roll of his eyes. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out nothing but lint. Scowling, he reached into the opposite pocket. This time he pulled a small square-shaped packet; you weren’t sure what it was, nor did you understand the phrase ‘ribbed for her pleasure’ that was printed on the wrapper but you decided you really didn’t care; and Kakuzu quickly shoved the object back within the confines of his pocket, his face red (from anger, you assumed). Frantically, he ripped open his jacket, checking the pockets hidden inside.
“Let me guess,” Hidan drawled, “You lost the key to the classroom, didn’t you, s***-for-brains.”
Kakuzu remained silent.
“Way to go, dumb f***. You officially suck at life.”
You, meanwhile, were about ready to jump out of the two story window in the back of the classroom; the idea of dragging yourself back home with broken legs and bits of glass embedded in your skin seemed a more tempting offer than being trapped in a classroom with the substitute teacher from deepest pits of Hell and a severed head with a mouth that could make a sailor impale himself on a wooden stake.
You turned back towards Hidan and Kakuzu, your left eye twitching when you saw Hidan gnawing on Kakuzu’s ankle and Kakuzu beating the top of Hidan’s skull with a clenched fist.
You stared longingly at the back of the classroom; that window was looking better and better by the minute.
Instead of running towards the window and breaking through the glass like your instincts were telling you to, you took a deep breath and calmed yourself. It didn’t look like Kakuzu or Hidan would settle down anytime soon so it was up to you to stand up and take charge of the situation.
“All right! Fighting will get us nowhere. We’re stuck in here until the janitor comes to clean the classroom so we need to just calm down and wait patiently until he arrives. So let’s try to be as tolerable to one another as possible. Are you with me?”
Hidan rolled his eyes. “That has got to be the most f***ing retarded thing I’ve heard of in my entire f***ing life. Seriously, I think I just dropped a few IQ points from listening to that stupid s***.”
“Yeah, well, f*** you!” you growled back.
Hidan and Kakuzu stared at you as if you had just curb-stomped a newborn baby kitten.
“What is wrong with you?!” Kakuzu shouted.
“Do you kiss your mother with that f***ing dirty mouth of yours?!” Hidan interjected.
“Well, not recently, but-”
“You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Yeah! You’re a disgusting slime-whore and a burden upon society, d***-licker!”
“…I really hate you guys.”
You closed your eyes and went to sit quietly at your desk, ignoring Kakuzu and Hidan. They’d get bored with you soon enough and then they’d start fighting amongst themselves again. Immature idiots.
No matter. You smiled to yourself as you tapped a random rhythm on your desktop. While those two morons were busy trying to kill each other, you would stay calm and collected. It would only be a short matter of time before you’d be free of this accursed classroom prison for the day and you intended to keep your dignity.
“OH GOD, WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE IN HERE!”
Kakuzu looked up from his newspaper, saw you running around the room in circles like a maniac, and decided the best course of action would be to ignore you. With a sagely nod of his head, Kakuzu went back to checking his stocks. He grinned; oil went up another ten points.
“We’re going to starve to death in here!” you continued to scream, pulling at your hair as you ran around Hidan’s disembodied head, ignoring his guttural growls and curses. “We’re going to starve to death and waste away until we’re nothing but skeletons and then what’s left of our bodies will be donated to the science department and we’ll be put on display and used as a visual aid to help underpaid teachers to teach uncaring children that the foot bone’s connected to the ankle bone that’s connected to the leg bone! DEM BONES DEM BONES DEM DRY BONES!”
“Do you ever shut up?!” Hidan growled, attempting to nip at your ankle to get you to stop running about like a moron.
“Well, now you know how it feels” Kakuzu muttered quietly to himself as he turned to the obituaries.
You ignored their words, skillfully avoiding Hidan’s attacks as you continued to panic. “And then some angry student with a leather jacket and greased-up hair will break into the science lab at night and have his graphically described way with our empty eye sockets! And he won’t even clean up after himself because he’s a rebel; a rebel without a cause!”
“I doubt that would happen. Skull-f***ing a bunch of dry bones is hardly what anyone would consider a pleasant experience” Hidan pointed out.
“You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you, Hidan?”
“SHUT THE F*** UP, KAKUZU! DON’T YOU JUDGE ME!” If Hidan had any fingers he would surely be pointing his middle one in Kakuzu’s general vicinity. “I was desperate and lonely! You would’ve done the same thing if you were in my f***ing position!”
Kakuzu cocked an eyebrow. “And which position would that be? Missionary or Doggy Style?”
“I’m flattered, Hidan, really, but not interested in the slightest. I just don’t feel the same way about you. But don’t despair; I’m sure one day you’ll find that special Satan-worshipping someone and the two of you can be very happy together, sacrificing livestock and screwing corpses in your free time.”
“…Words alone could never properly express my utmost loathing for you, you fat ugly b******.”
Meanwhile, you were still running around screaming like a chicken with its head cut off.
“This is terrible!” you screamed, nearly tripping over the trash can as you continued to run. “I’m going to die a slow and miserable fate in this cruddy ol’ classroom with two B-class zombie movie rejects and I haven’t even gotten my first kiss yet!”
The two said rejects turned towards you (well, Hidan tried to turn toward you but he just sort of ended up falling flat on his face) but you paid them little heed.
“Then when I go to heaven Jesus and Elvis and the sixteenth president of America Abraham Lincoln will laugh at me and make fun of me for being a pathetic virgin loser! It’s just not fair!” you wailed.
You didn’t even notice when several black tendrils started to creep toward you.
“And then all the angels will be nice and smile to my face but as soon as my back is turned they’ll start pointing and snickering and they’ll deny it but I’ll know the truth. I’ll know. And my afterlife will be full of shame and anguish and wedgies. And-AHHHHH!” You screeched suddenly as your feet were pulled out from under you, your head smashing against the floor briefly before you were pulled up so that you were hanging upside down from your ankle, your face level with Kakuzu’s.
Kakuzu glared and growled and for a minute you thought he was going to pull out your voice box and feed it to Hidan but then your eyes widened as you felt his roughened chapped lips pressing harshly against yours.
The first thought that came to your mind was ‘Dude, I feel just like Spiderman!’ The second thought that came to your mind was ‘Holy poo on a stick, what is this creepy geezer doing to my face?!’
Finally, he pulled away, his lips set in a frown as he covered them up once again but his eyes looking strangely smug. “There,” he grunted, dropping you to the floor so that you landed on your head and nearly snapped your neck in the process, “Maybe now you’ll keep quiet.”
You were quiet, alright; for about three seconds.
“YOU JUST STOLE MY MOUTH VIRGINITY, YOU SICK OLD FREAK!”
You did the impossible; you became even louder. Heck, you were almost as loud as Hidan!
Kakuzu winced, his ears ringing and his head starting to ache.
“Now no man will ever want to marry me!” you sobbed. “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?!”
Kakuzu rubbed his arm awkwardly. “It’s… not that big of a deal.”
“I bet you’ll think it’s a big deal when you’re stuck in prison, forced to play house with a man twice your size named Big Dawgy Pimp-meister.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “And then you’ll have so much fudge packed you could open up your own candy shop.”
Kakuzu stared at you long and hard. “…What?”
“MAKE AN HONEST WOMAN OUT OF ME!”
You stopped shouting when you noticed Hidan’s disembodied head slowly rolling towards the two of you, knocking lightly into Kakuzu’s feet. “Hey, old-f***,” he spoke, as charming as usual, “Are you done cradle-robbing yet? Cuz I think I heard something coming from outside the room. It might be someone who can get us out of here.”
Kakuzu tilted his head back. “Why didn’t you check to see what it was?”
“Oh, silly me. You’re right, Kakuzu. I should’ve just walked over to the door, stood on my tippy toes, and peeked through the glass window at the top of the door using the body I don’t have. I’M JUST A HEAD RIGHT NOW, YOU STUPID D***-LESS F***!”
Kakuzu rolled his eyes. “I was being sarcastic, obviously” he spoke calmly while digging the heel of his expensive Italian shoes into Hidan’s face. You cringed; that had to hurt. With one last stomp to Hidan’s mouth for good measure, Kakuzu stepped away from Hidan’s bruised and beaten head to go investigate the sound.
You could’ve sworn that you heard Hidan mutter “I hope you choke on your Viagra pills and die, you old f***” but you couldn’t be sure. After all, it looked like Hidan’s jaw was dislocated so his words were muffled and slurred.
“Hey,” Kakuzu called, “The idiot was right. There’s someone out there.”
You quickly scuttled towards Kakuzu, stepping on Hidan’s face in your excitement as you rushed to get a peek at whoever it was. Your expression brightened when you saw who it was. “Oh, that’s Jiraiya, the school’s head custodian. He’s bound to have a key to the classroom! MR. JIRAIYA!” you shouted, beating your fists against the door to get the older man’s attention. “MR. JIRAIYA, HELP!”
The sound was so loud and piercing that Jiraiya couldn’t have ignored it if he wanted to.
Jiraiya saw your face pressed helplessly against the small bit of glass, heard your shouts, saw the way your tiny fists of fury pounded against the door. Now, Jiraiya was a rather bright man, despite dropping out of the fourth grade, and he quickly put two and two together. Not to mention this wasn’t the first time you had locked yourself inside one of the school rooms; last time it had been the boys’ bathroom.
With a sigh, the disgruntled janitor pulled his big-ass key ring out of his back jean pocket and started looking through the large assortment of keys in search of the one that would free you from the shackles of your horrible classroom.
You backed away from the door, your heart full of utmost glee at the prospect of finally being able to go home. Kakuzu, however, looked less than thrilled.
Hidan, his jaw magically back in place and a pink glittery Hello Kitty Band-Aid on his chin, seemed to notice this too. “What crawled up your ass and died?” he asked with all the finesse and class of a back alley crack-dealer.
“This is taking too long” Kakuzu muttered.
“Well,” you started, “You’ll just have to be patient. I mean, there’s not much else you can-”
You were interrupted by the sound of the door slamming into Jiraiya’s now unconscious body after Kakuzu kicked it down with one foot as if it had been made of cardboard. You stared at the door, then Kakuzu, the door again, Kakuzu again, Jiraiya’s unconscious body, the door, Mr. Orochimaru running down the hallway butt-naked as he chased a panicked-looking Sasuke, then finally back at Kakuzu.
“…WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST DO THAT FROM THE START?!”
Kakuzu shrugged his shoulders.
“Ugh. You are insufferable” you growled, tugging harshly at a lock of your hair.
“Kakuzu smirked. “Do you even know what that means?”
“No, but it has the word suffer in it so it must be something bad.”
Kakuzu merely grunted as he picked up Hidan’s head, depositing him back into the black messenger bag that had become his home. Hidan struggled and bit and cursed but it was a lost cause; soon enough he was safe and sound inside the bag, his screaming muffled. Kakuzu turned back to you and caught you staring at him, an eyebrow quirked in response.
Your face flushed but you quickly composed yourself. “You know,” you drawled, “You and Mr. Hidan are by far the strangest, nastiest, rudest men I’ve ever met all of my life. But…” You shuffled your feet, suddenly feeling like a nervous school girl (which, technically, you were). “Despite all of that, today, as horrible as being trapped in a room with you two was, it was also kind of… well, fun. Not that I’d ever want to do something like that again, but it was kind of cool hanging out with you guys and it’s too bad that I’ll probably never see you again. So…”
As quickly as you could, you jumped up and pecked Kakuzu on the cheek before running off frantically, your face as red as Mr. Orochimaru after spending too much time in the sun. Kakuzu chuckled to himself as he watched your retreating form, his hand fondly rubbing against his cheek.
“Ya think you should have told her that you’ll be substituting for the rest of the week?” Hidan’s voice was muffled within the confines of the bag but loud enough that Kakuzu could understand him.
Kakuzu grinned. “Now where would the fun be in that?”