| Final Fantasy 9: Hanging Out
Um. Okay. I got to thinking the other day, what if the characters of FF9 were real kids? How do normal/sub-normal adolescents act? And out popped this Beavis 'n' Butthead-like thing. It's reasonably funny, I guess, but BE WARNED. There is a LOT of gratuitous swearing and offensive behavior in here. I mean, a FUCKLOAD. (Yeah, ha ha, very funny, Mooncalf.) On the other hand, there aren't many spoilers in here. Once you've gotten through about five hours of the game, you know pretty much everything you need to to read this. Maybe that's because no one is being in character and nothing actually happens. Oh well. ===== |
| (SCENE: The main circle of Alexandria. The city streets are bustling
here. Off to one side, leaning against the wall of a shop, are ZIDANE,
BLANK, MARCUS, and CINNA. BLANK has a cigarette in his mouth, his eyes
shaded and hidden by his overlarge headband. ZIDANE has lost all his lace
somewhere and is wearing a white t-shirt (with cigarette pack rolled up
in the sleeve) and tight blue pants. MARCUS, chewing on a toothpick, is
all in artfully ripped denim with a bandana over his hair; in other words,
he looks much the same as always. CINNA stands a little apart from the
others, a worried look on his face and a baseball cap turned backwards
perched on his pointy head.)
(After a moment, ZIDANE casually turns his head aside and spits onto the sidewalk. A portly hippopotamus-shaped matron glares at him as she sidesteps; he stares back insolently. She moves on.) BLANK: Cool. ZIDANE: Yeah. (MARCUS grunts.) CINNA: Hey, you guys maybe want to go down to the harbor? See if we can rip something off ol' man Dougall? ZIDANE: Nah. BLANK: Who invited you anyway, Cinna? Fuck off. (MARCUS grunts.) CINNA: Aw, c'mon, guys. I bought you the cigs, right? ZIDANE: Fuck, Blank, let the crybaby stay. BLANK: Shit. You sweet on Cinna, Zid? He gonna be your girlfriend? ZIDANE: Hey, shut your trap, asswipe. BLANK: Make me, dickwad! (ZIDANE and BLANK get into a brief but hearty shoving match, punching
each other on the shoulders and spouting profanity with considerable bravado.
MARCUS watches, grinning, and occasionally grunting. CINNA watches, alarmed,
not sure who he should cheer for. After a few moments, assured of their
masculinity, ZIDANE and BLANK stop scuffling and lean against the wall
again. BLANK steps on his old cigarette, which got bent somehow, and lights
a new one, striking his match against the sole of his boot.)
ZIDANE: I'd do her. BLANK: You would. ZIDANE: Fuck off. (MARCUS grunts.) CINNA: What a babe. ZIDANE: Who asked you? (CINNA hushes, abashed.) BLANK: Too fat for me, man. ZIDANE: Fat? Take your stupid headband off, asshole. She was tasty. BLANK: Says you, dumbass. (MARCUS grunts.) (Silence falls on the group. They lean against the wall and watch the
crowds, expressions of studied disinterest on their faces. Cigarette butts
start to heap up at BLANK's feet. MARCUS spits out his chewed-up toothpick
and replaces it with another one. ZIDANE pulls a comb out of his back pocket
and runs it through his hair.)
SHOPKEEPER: Again! Again you're here! If you're going to clutter up my store, at least don't spill your damn cigarette butts everywhere! BLANK: Sorry. SHOPKEEPER: Always you're sorry! Now shoo! Shoo! (The shopkeeper shoos the four disgruntled youths away and sweeps up the mess. The four of them cross the road and lean against the wall of another store.) BLANK: Tightass. ZIDANE: Sonofabitch. CINNA: What an asshole. BLANK: Shut up, Cinna. (MARCUS grunts.) BLANK: I oughtta just haul off and sock him one. I'd break his jaw. ZIDANE: Sure you would. You're so weak you couldn't jerk your own dick. BLANK: And you know ALL about jerking dick. Hell, you'd probably suck Cinna's for a nickel and a rimjob. ZIDANE: Fuck you, dickcheese! CINNA: Uh... what's a rimjob? (Profound silence greets this question. BLANK and ZIDANE look just a little bit nervous for a moment, before their carefully-practiced 'cool' expressions take control again. MARCUS just grunts.) BLANK: ... didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up, Cinna? Gawd! (ZIDANE passes BLANK another cigarette and lights one of his own. MARCUS switches his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. Suddenly, CINNA stands upright and elbows BLANK, who punches CINNA in the shoulder.) CINNA: Quick! It's the principal! (All cigarettes are quickly stomped out. ZIDANE yanks the cigarette
pack from his t-shirt sleeve and hides it
BAKU: Afternoon, boys. ZIDANE: H'lo, sir. BLANK: Hi Mr. Baku. CINNA: Hello Principal Baku! (MARCUS grunts.) BAKU: You boys haven't been... smoking, have you? ZIDANE: No sir. Not us. BLANK: Nossir. Some guys were here smoking earlier but it wasn't us. CINNA: N-no... sir... BAKU: That's good. I'd hate to catch any of my boys smoking... Zidane, what's that you're hiding behind your back? ZIDANE: ...nothing, sir. BAKU: Show me your hands. ZIDANE: I ain't got anything! BAKU: SHOW ME YOUR HANDS! (ZIDANE grudgingly pulls his empty hands out from behind his back and smirks at BAKU, who glares at him.) BAKU: Very well, be a smart fellow. But if I ever catch you boys smoking... and I will... you will NOT be happy lads. Understood? ZIDANE: Yessir. BLANK: Yessir. CINNA: Um... yessir. (BAKU fixes each of the four sulky boys with a glare before he trundles off. Once he's safely out of sight, ZIDANE twitches his tail forward and retrieves the cigarette pack it was clutching. BLANK and ZIDANE exchange bored high-fives and light up. CINNA keeps watching nervously for BAKU. MARCUS taps ZIDANE on the shoulder.) MARCUS: Gimme one. (ZIDANE pops a cigarette out of the pack for MARCUS. MARCUS taps the cigarette on his watch face several times and lights it, popping the match alight under his thumbnail.) CINNA: That was CLOSE! Maybe you guys ought to wait a bit, huh? ZIDANE: Fuck no. I ain't scared of Master Fatass. He comes back here, I'll pop him one. Or STICK him with this. (ZIDANE pulls out a switchblade and thumbs the catch, making the blade pop open. All four boys gather in a circle, awe in their eyes, staring at ZIDANE's prize.) BLANK: Seriously sweet, my man. MARCUS: Cool. CINNA: Wow, Zidane! That's so cool! A real knife! Can I hold it? ZIDANE: Shit no, Cinna-buns. You'd just drop it and stab your own foot. This baby is MINE. (ZIDANE flicks the switchblade closed, a movement that hints of long practice, and returns it to his pocket. The boys range out along the wall again and smoke in silence, watching the crowds. Suddenly, CINNA elbows ZIDANE, who also punches him in the shoulder.) CINNA: It's that WEIRD chick! And she's heading this way! BLANK: Who? Shit. It's that Garnet chick. What's she want? ZIDANE: Dunno. (MARCUS grunts. GARNET walks up to the little group and straight to ZIDANE, who makes a half-assed effort to hide his cigarette in the palm of his hand. The other three fake disinterest, although CINNA is doing a particularly poor job.) GARNET: Hi, Zidane! Whatcha doing? ZIDANE: Uh... you know... nothing... just hanging out. GARNET: That's cool! Listen, you left your textbook in math class, so I thought I'd bring it to you... (GARNET hands over a battered textbook with a paper cover, on which is doodled a bunch of semi-pornographic stick figures. ZIDANE grunts and sticks it in his backpack, which nestles on the sidewalk behind him.) ZIDANE: Uh... thanks. GARNET: Sure! Um, listen... if you, if you're not too busy... (GARNET begins to blush and stammer a little.) GARNET: Um, m-maybe you and I could, um, could go have a soda or something? Um, tomorrow? After school? ZIDANE: Uh... um... I-I don't think I can. I've got detention... (GARNET looks crushed.) GARNET: Oh. Um. Okay. M-maybe some other time then. (GARNET quickly walks off, a trifle unsteady. The other boys all stop faking disinterest and stare at ZIDANE.) BLANK: SHIT, man. She wants you. I mean, I bet she fucks like a wildcat. Why the fuck'd you say no? ZIDANE: 'Cause I've got detention, man! Baku's on my ass. BLANK: FUCK that, man! Cut it! What's he gonna do, suspend your ass? MARCUS: Probably. ZIDANE: Shit, Blank, no chick's worth that shit. I cut detention to go have a drink with her and next you know she's gonna think she owns me. Fuck THAT, man. BLANK: Yeah. Yeah, I guess. MARCUS: Wuss. (ZIDANE doesn't seem to dare to say anything to MARCUS, and silence reigns for a while. The pile of cigarette butts gets deeper as the sun begins to set.) CINNA: I gotta split, guys... mom'll kill me if I'm late... BLANK: So fuck off already, crybaby. Geez. MARCUS: Gonna go too. (CINNA and MARCUS both leave, heading in opposite directions. BLANK and ZIDANE finish up their last cigarettes, then liberally apply breath spray.) ZIDANE: See ya. BLANK: Not if I see you first, asswipe. (ZIDANE and BLANK indulge in one last shoving match, then head off in opposite directions. ZIDANE glances back to make sure no one is watching, then runs off in the direction of Alexandria Castle, grinning like an idiot. He skids to a stop under one lighted window and throws a pebble at it.) ZIDANE: Hey! Garnet! Open up! (CURTAIN.) |
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===== COMMENTS: Hm. I've got to admit to a sneaking fondness for this parody, but I'm not sure how much other people will like it. It was just fun to mock all the sullen teenage assholes that I went to high school with. I hate that sort of macho posing, so I thoroughly enjoyed getting to parody it. Poor Zidane, though. I should have done this to the guys from FF8 instead. They really WERE sullen teenage assholes. But Marcus and Blank just LOOKED right... anyway. |