Emi and Kenji's Late-Night Encounter

[HarvestmanMan]

(It has been far too long.)

The nights got lonely sometimes in Kenji’s room. They were bound to, in a way, what with Kenji’s voluntary withdrawal from anything even slightly resembling social interaction. But Kenji didn’t blame himself for that. Why should he? There were plenty of willing feminists that could be used as scapegoats!

Still, Kenji thought, it sure would be nice to have someone during these long, lonely nights in a pillow fort. Someone to cuddle with among the survival rations. Someone who would place their gloved hand upon his shoulder when he felt down. Someone who would make him feel like something other than a reject. Someone who could replace his Fleshli-

“KNOCK KNOCK KNOCKITY KNOCK,” went the door at the best possible moment. Kenji froze. A knock on the door at this hour of the night? Could it be the companion he’d been thinking of?

“KNOCK KNOCK,” went the door again. “Who can it be now?” thought Kenji. A faint saxophone riff followed his thoughts. Slightly disconcerted, he thought again, “Who can it be now?”; once again, it was followed by a sax solo. Kenji realized that he had left his Men At Work CD on and went to answer the door.

It was Emi!

“Emi?” said Kenji in disbelief.
Emi looked confused for a moment and then replied, “Hello.”
“Emi!” shouted Kenji in a tone of voice wholly inappropriate for 3:30 A.M.
Emi started to back away.
“Emi, come in!” Kenji said, really hoping that it was actually Emi and not someone like Mutou or Hisao or his mom.
“I need to stop starting lines with ‘Emi’,” said the author. My word is law, bitches.

A little bit unsure of herself, Emi gingerly entered the room, being careful to step around the 67 copies of “The Anarchist’s Cookbook” and the various pieces of bulletproof metal cooling off in the amateur blacksmithing operation. She was stunned that such a normal room on the outside could provide so much potential for disaster, much like trying to meet a prostitute at a Knights Inn.

“I’d like your help testing something out,” Kenji said with a smile on his face. “I don’t come by you female types too often, so it’s a good thing I’ve got you exactly where I want you now.”
“I’m awfully sorry,” said Emi abashedly, “but I’m a bit drunk, so could you please not do anything life-threatening to me?”

By now Kenji had cleared off a spot on the bed for Emi to sit upon. She did her best to avoid the various stains on the comforter. Good thing it wasn’t Go-Commando Wednesday! Kenji headed over to a dingy-looking mini-fridge.

“Truth be told, woman, I’m not terribly sure whether or not this will prove harmful to you. As I said, I’m just testing it out, and I’m a bit hesitant to use myself as a test subject when the going gets dire.”

With a flourish as graceful as Toto pulling the curtain back on the Wizard of Oz, or as swift as Silentcook pressing the “lock” button on my last fan-fiction that I wrote on here, Kenji produced a wrapped-up plate from the fridge.

Emi was terrified. Could it be noxious gas? An oxygen-activated pipe bomb? Fred Phelps’ pancreas? Whatever it was, her future did not look promising.

With a flourish as graceful as HarvestmanMan reusing a simile, Kenji pulled back the plastic wrap on the plate, exposing…

…snickerdoodles.

“Care for a Snickerdoodle?” Kenji said in an obnoxiously proud voice. He fancied himself a master chef. Hell, he was even working on grilled cheese!
“Uh, sure,” said Emi, taking one from the plate. It smelled exactly like you’d expect a teenage boy’s cooking to smell, but knowing that it was awfully hard to fuck up a snickerdoodle, she took a bite anyway.
“God DAMN, this is a good snickerdoodle,” she said in between bites to Kenji. “Thank you!” Kenji said, his head held high.

“That’s all for tonight,” stated Kenji firmly. “Get your cookie-tasting ass out of my bedroom!” He shot her a wink, and just like that, she was gone.

Emi stood outside the door dumbfounded and drunk. What in the everloving hell had just happened? The world’s most reclusive teenager, and a guy who was probably Voted Most Likely To Blow Up His Dorm And Most Of The School In A Big Old Blue Fireball, had just served her cookies. And they had been good cookies. This was better than any date she’d had, actually.

Then came a shout from behind the door: “Why do water and paint thinner look so similar?!”

[Silentcook]

Lolrandum XD garbage, ten-minute writing, good ol' mass o' pop culture references, fourth wall breaking, and injokes. Yeah, business as usual.

Buzz off, willya?