Sorry I haven't updated in a long time! I was going through my Microsoft files when I saw this story and realized I'd been neglecting it. Hopefully I'm not totally off track now. Oh, and we finally get a taste of that SchuxYohji everyone is so obsessed with!

Chapter 4

"Uh...Ko...ko-n-ni-chi-wa." Omi was speaking as if he was taking to a stupid foreigner. Wait. Actually, he was. But the point was he wasn't sure how well Farfarello knew Japanese. Or any language. Did he even speak an intelligible language? Or did he just bark like a dog, like the man Omi saw on TV? Oh, crazy people confused Omi. He should be prepared for anything.

He certainly wasn't prepared for the response he got, though.

Farfarello released him and propped his hands on his hips. "Sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going. You're not hurt, are you?"

Ok, his tone of voice wasn't exactly the most sincere Omi had ever heard, but at least the man was speaking clearly. And sanely. Hold on a sec. Since when did Farfarello speak sanely? "I'm fine." Omi said, voice sounding much smaller than he had intended.

Farfarello stared at him.

His one visible eye looked normal.

...That's even scarier than when he looks bloodthirsty and insane.

After watching Omi watching him watching him watching him...right... he finally shrugged and walked past the younger boy.

Omi stood there in shock for a few moments, but he was pulled out of it when a strange aroma suddenly filled his nose. It was coming from the kitchen.

Omi: "Hm. I wonder what that could be?"

Omi wondered what that could be.

Omi: (blinks) "Yeah. I just said that."

Omi blinked and said he had just said that.

Omi: "Is there an echo in here?"

Omi asked no one in particular if there was an echo in here.

Omi: (Freaking out) Okay! Cut it out!

Omi began freaking out because he was hearing strange voices in his head and he was telling them to cut it out because he couldn't do anything to stop them!!!

Omi screamed like a little girl in a cheesy horror movie and ran away, heading towards the kitchen and the odd smell that was still emanating from it.

(The author chuckles evilly from behind a door, playing with her creepy voice changer. Hey, I've gotta get my kicks somehow.^_^)

Brad thought he heard a scream from the hall when something small and blond suddenly shot through the kitchen door, flew through air, and latched onto his face with kitten-sharp claws. Brad shrieked and tore at the howling creature on his head, thinking Farfarello had let the raccoons at his Viagra again.

"Die you hyper-doped-up piece of road kill!"

"Braaaaaaadleeeeeey!!!"

Brad stopped flailing suddenly and found he was able to pluck the 'creature' off his face fairly easily. Holding the chibified Omi out in front of him with both hands, Brad flipped his bangs out of his eyes and managed to regain his composure. "Tsukiyono," he said calmly, "what are you doing?"

"I see dead people."

Brad let him go.

Thump. "Ow."

"Get a grip."

"Yes, sir."

Brad turned back to the stove where he had been cooking eggs. Omi's face popped up in front of him. "What?" Brad snapped, peeved.

Omi stared at him like a confused child. "Brad, you're wearing a pink apron."

"So?!"

Omi blinked slowly. Twice. "Never mind." With that, he disappeared, and was suddenly sitting at the kitchen table. "So...what's cooking?"

"Eggs."

"Are eggs supposed to look like that?"

Twitch. "They're special eggs."

Riiight, Omi thought, deciding to change the subject. "Hey, Bradley?"

"Call me Crawford, dammit."

Omi made a face. "Meanie. Anyway, what's with Farfarello? I just saw him in the hall and he was acting like a human being. Is that normal? Does he just lose all his psycho-ness when he's in the house?"

"I put him on medication."

"Medication?"

"Prozac," Brad said, smiling to himself. Ahh, the power of non-drowsy anti-depressants. (And hyphens.)

A moment later, Nagi walked in, straitening his blue polo shirt and combing his fingers through his disheveled brown hair.

(An equation for all people who think that Nagi would not wear polo shirts: Computer geek= plain dork shirt. I don't care how cool you think you are.)

"Morning, Brad," he said, peeking over the older man's shoulder. "What's cooking?"

"Eggs."

"Are eggs supposed to look like that?"

Brad imagined maiming Nagi with the spatula and frying the boy's face for breakfast. Then, realizing he was going Jeffery Dahmer on our asses, he calmly said: "Sit down."

Nagi went to the table, sat next to Omi, and was content to make goo-goo eyes at him for the rest of the time Brad ignored them.

Brad cracked another egg into the pan just as Farfarello walked in.

"Farf?" he asked. "Are you going to eat with us?"

Farfie took one look at the two boys playing footsy at the table and shook his head. "I'll eat outside. It's a... nice day."

Before anyone could say anything, menacing clouds accumulated in the sky and started pouring rain and hail.

Everyone: "...."

Farfarello sighed. "Yeah, God hates me." He looked to Crawford. "I'll eat upstairs. By the way, what's cooking?"

"Eggs."

Farfarello eyed the jello-y green blobs of toxic-looking substance that Brad was cooking. "Are eggs supposed to look like that?"

"I HATE YOU ALLLLL!!!!!!!!"

**Eyecatch** Minnie's little angel muse runs by with a banner that says: CALIFORNIA GROWN CHICKENS! **End eyecatch**

Aya Fujimiya wondered how long it took to be declared clinically insane. He was pretty sure he was almost there at this point. (As if he wasn't mad-crazy already.)

From the other room, Schuldig and Yohji could still be heard going at it after a whole hour. Aya couldn't believe it. The stamina they had was incredible.

God knows he could never play rock, scissors, paper for 60 minutes strait!

(Honestly, all you sick-minded people...)

Their voices trailed through the walls like a demented tribal chant, as they played round after round. In unison they would yell, "Rock! Scissors! Paper!" Then, after every time, Yohji would shout, "Dammit! One more!"

Didn't he realize by now that he couldn't win that game against someone who could read his mind?

"Rock! Scissors! Paper! ...Dammit! One more!"

.....Obviously not.

Either way, Aya was about ready to smash both their heads with a ROCK, gouge their eyes out with SCISSORS, and give them nasty PAPER cuts with lemon squeezes. But then, to his relief, the game suddenly stopped. Schuldig had apparently gotten bored of winning. He heard the German say: "All right, Yohji, you lost. You know what that means."

With Yohji grumbling behind him, Schuldig passed by Aya's open door on the way to the 'guest bedroom.' Just out of curiosity for why he had had to tolerate their game for one wasted hour of his life, Aya halted the pair. "Hey!" he snapped. "What were you guys doing anyway?"

Schuldig smiled in a way that only Schuldig can smile and tugged Yohji by the collar. "We were going to play Swahilian sex slave and we had to determine who would be the slave this time." With that, the two playboys disappeared into the guestroom, and Aya wisely decided he needed to take a long, hard... walk.

TO BE CONTINUED...

(OK, I'm sick-minded to! You know I love you people!) Yeah, short bursts of inspiration... Hopefully I'll update soon. ...Hopefully.