Terrifying Fate of Purple Bananas
"What- what in Gods name are you doing with our home computer?!" Yang shouted in outrage.
I was furiously typing shit on the Rose household computer as I tried to hack the mainframe of the Vale Council and fill them with 2020 AMONGUS MEMES just to spite governments in general as my buttcheeks clenched so hard that I would make diamonds out of coal.
"I'm hacking the mainframe, stewwpid. This is some Mission Impossible shit right here!" My fingers were flying over the keyboard as I was abusing the integrity strength of a plastic keyboard as well as my fleshy fingers.
"Would- would you not?!" Yang froze for a moment at the SPEED I was typing codes, before forcifully yanking my body off the keyboard and exasperating the numorous tabs on the screen.
"What the fuck is this?! What is all this SHIT?!" She cried out in disbelief, closing the multiple tabs in an orderly fashion while I got up and yanked her body back and continued hacking the mainframe.
Oh, I'm going to upload all of my shitty cringe videos in RWBY so they could feel the wrath of shitposting 2020! THE SUFFERING OF 2020 SHALL NOT END TODAY! STARTING WITH REMNANT!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
And AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-
"FUCK! Why would you do that?!" I loudly demanded to see reason as she turned off the power off the computer. With a splitting headache, Yang consoled her forehead and believed she was living in a nightmare with this... GOBLIN.
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Yang looked back and saw me starting the computer again.
"OH MY FUCKING OUM, CAN YOU JUST FUCKING STOP-"
...
"Hmm-hmmm! Hmm-Hmmm!" I hummed "Le Festin" from Rataouille as I flipped the corn on the frying pan and added the shredded cheese. Delicious. 5-star rating. 100 out of 5 stars.
Yang groaned a long suffering tone as she questioned how did her life get to this.
In the middle of the 3AM night, there was Yang Xiao-Long, head planted on the table with a warmed tea in hand to console her long suffering pain at the brown shit goblin that was in her house. Why was he here? Why was he going after Uncle Qrow?!
And why was he using their KITCHEN?!
"Ta-da! Corn-cheese, with tomato bacon and veggies!"
[THUMP!]
The resulting loud thump woke the young Xiao-Long up in a fit of shock, as she questioned the man's mentality and thought it would be a good idea to call the cops on him.
After witnessing as the man pulled a pistol at her, the man with a firearm made a pretty good argument that she was in his mercy. Still, she had the right to groan longingly and honestly ask him what the fuck he was doing.
"What the fuck is this shit?" Yang questioned the frying pan in front of her.
It looked like a good midnight dish that looked like a pizza with no base after the man with a gun immediately went to their kitchen and cooked something up. It smelled great, and to Yang's horror, her stomach growled and demanded to eat.
She wasn't supposed to be up late. She was supposed to be sleeping. Yet, her stomach demanded food. With a growing intent, she decided to 'fuck it', and eat the goddamn thing even if it was poisoned.
She reached over the kitchen utensils-
[SLAP!]
"AH!" She immediately recoiled back her hands away the spoon. There he was. Look at him, that smirking asshole was shaking his fingers at her like as if he treated her as a child. She glared at him.
He ignored the look and she noticed he was holding one of Uncle Qrow's beer bottles and she immediately paled. Uncle Qrow told her not to touch his drinks as if her life depended on it.
"You're not supposed to-" She tried to stop him.
[TTKK! TSSSSS....]
"-touch that..." Yang's words went to deaf ears as the man chugged the beer bottle to his mouth and given a couple of seconds, he completely finished the beverage to Yang's shocked surprise as he hissed in satsifaction.
I smacked my lips. "Yep. Definitely tastes like shiet. Still drinking and eating more." I scooped a large filling of cheesy goodness in front of the metaphorical drooling Yang. I motioned my spoon over at her. Asking if she wanted it or not.
Yang perked up and headed over me.
And I popped that shit in my mouth in front of her just to prove a point. Yang deflated like a empty balloon as her hopes was shattered in front of her face. She slammed her head down and repeatily done so.
"Why do you do this?..." Yang replied in longing suffering.
"Because it's fun and I don't care." I replied back in mild humor, scooping another fair amount of cheese corn and consumed. Yang sent a death glare in which I promptly ignored. We stared at each other in silence before Yang broke the ice.
"Why. Are. You. Still. Here?" She slowly demanded, on edge because A. She isn't nocturnal (aka built different). B. She went through a shock as a man with a gun is eating cheese corn in front of her. C. She's very hungry.
"Cause I'm waiting for your Uncle to come back so I can beat the shit out of him without getting closer. I mean, going after people is overrated, not to mention exhausting. Waiting is kinda my style..." I hummed over her question.
"Why aren't you going to bed?" I asked casually.
"BECAUSE OF YOU! I can't just sleep when there's a mysterious man in my Uncle's house! GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE! YOU DON'T BELONG HERE! LEEEEAAAAVVVVEEEEE! LEEEEEEAAAAAAVVVVVVVEEEEE!!" She furiously (and frustratedly) demanded. But I was stone-cold. I stared at her a couple of minutes as I munched on corn.
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"WHY IN THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL HERE?!" Yang screamed.
"I think I told you that. Arresting your uncle ring any bells?" I scratched my head.
"Right. I think I'm having an existential crisis as to why there's a random person with a gun that I smacked him with a shovel, claims himself as a bounty hunter, breaks into my house, hacks the home computer, and is EATING MELTED CHEESE WITH CORNS AND I'm shocked that I'm not a tiny bit threatened that I'm shouting at a guy who has a gun pointed at MY HEAD AND WHY PEOPLE WOULDN'T HAVE THOUGHT MELTED CHEESE WITH CORN IS ACTUALLY A GOOD IDEA!!" She screams, frustrated as all hell.
"It's mostly exhaustion, tiredness, adrendaline, and hunger that's driving you insane. Just live with the madness until you know it's not going to bite you. Trust me, denying ain't gonna heal." I shrugged at that.
"Sound advice from a sober man that just lost his career seems good enough. Gods, how did my life end up with this corn-eating lunatic...?" Yang snarked as she buried her arms onto her face. I munched on another scoop and stared at her. She raised her head and frowned.
"You're still here. I'm not dreaming."
"Fortunately."
"That's not- you're supposed to say 'Unfortunately'."
"It benefits to you, why should I benefit from someone I don't know and why not benefit myself, whom I know so much about me?"
"Wha- wha- ok that's it, I'm done." Yang slammed her head on the table. I scoffed.
"What, you expected me to disappear if you denied hard enough?" I asked back with silence. I snorted at the silence. Yang raised her head again and saw nothing but a half-empty pan of cheese and corn in front of her.
She put her head down.
"Wait what-" She immediately raised her head up.
"Hmm? You said something?" I replied back after a long-ass groan from the long-haired blond. I rolled my eyes. What was her problem? Yang let out another longer groan of frustration.
"I'm thinking of committing manslaughter. Why don't I do that." She whispered to herself. Thankfully, my perceptive ears caught on the whisper and my mouth automatically replied to itself.
"Because CSI forensics are bullshit irl and a side note; why manslaughter?" I asked curiously. Yang glanced up maliciously to myself.
"They would only know that I acted in self-defense when I get my hands on your neck and strangle you." She replied flatly.
"Again, CSI forensics are bullshit irl because they can trace down your fingerprints and match into yours. Seriously, but how death by stranglation going to be a self-defense, much rather manslaughter?" I raised my eyebrows up.
"I-I don't know...! I guess that's the first thing that came up to my mind... Why am I talking to you about this? Aren't you a bit surprised that I was talking about strangling you?!" She asked increduleously.
"Uh, no. Happens to me everytime." I shrugged casually.
"No wonder..."
"Why am I having a casual conversation about manslaughter to a stranger with a gun in the middle of the night while I should be sleeping and studying for exams...?" She asked to herself in wonder and frustration.
"Dunno, because conversating a friendly psycopath is entertaining against your boring, studying life that you absolutely don't care about and would rather be doing some exciting shit?" I shrugged back.
"Did you call yourself a psycopath?"
"You're not denying what I just said."
"I never said yes." She huffed in denial.
"Then what's your answer?" I asked back.
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"Why are you being so friendly?" She asked, hanging her stool back.
"... can I not be polite to everyone else? It's like saying hello to a dying old lady that's not worth your time, but you mantain your standards as a professional." I explained while chewing on a bacon piece. Yang said nothing.
"'Because professionals, have standards.'" I quoted to a certain Australian sniper.
"It's like robbing a house but you don't fucken cut off their internet supply for shits and giggles. You're not bloody trying to screw them over, you're here to steal their shit." I walked over to the counter and opened the fridge.
"Right, standards. How are 'standards' going well for you if you keep raiding our fridge?" She snarked in sarcasm.
"That's because my standards alone are above your understanding. Ooh, orange juice!" I took out a bright orange carton and put a considerable amount on the glass and drank the whole thing.
"What are you, twelve?" She replied skeptically.
"Nineteen. I look older than everyone thinks." I replied back casually.
"Are you going to leave when you arrest my uncle, baby-face? You as hell don't have a warrant to steal and eat our shit." She growled angrily.
"Nah, it's because I asked politely that I can use this kitchen." I waved it off like it wasn't any big deal.
"You didn't-! You didn't ASK anyone!" She slammed the table.
"Yes I did. Asked the owner of this house." I replied back.
"HE'S NOT HERE! UNCLE QROW WOULDN'T EVEN LET YOU IN THE KITCHEN IN THE FIRST PLACE!" She shouted angrily. I hummed at that.
"Did you know I can spirit-talk?"
"What?"
"I know you ate that purple Banana."
"What?!"
"Terrifying fate, Purple Bananas. Become ate a very terrifying."
"WHAT?!"
"Banana Purple fate Terrorising, fate very become banana-"
"What the hell are you talking about?! Are you having a stroke?!" She shouted in mild frustration.
"Sorry about that. PB talk makes your head go crazy. Not talking about that again." I explained. Mmm. Purple Bananas.
"What- wha- you're not making any sense!!!" She half-whined and half-cried.
Purple Bananas.
Why Purple Bananas?!
What do Purple Bananas even taste like?!
"What made the humans lay eggs?"
"Should I be putting a blue red green sign next to the flamingo airport?"
"Are you kidding thyself now on sliding slippers? Poggers?"
"Why is Purple Bananas?"
"Art I should crinckle think thinking shells of suns right now?"
"I think... I think should. I-I I think should I? My- My-brain... My brain justing committing suicide!"
"Why are things sqaure. Moinecraftuuo."
"Purple Apples. Why not Purple Crimson-"
"CAN YOU STOP?!" Yang demanded in total frustration. I coughed my lungs. Looks like she had enough with the horrors of 2020's brand of meme bullshittery.
"Right, here's how it's going to go." I crossed my legs together. Yang looked at me with horror.
"You answer questions. I don't ask stupid questions unless bad answer. You get to answer about Purple Bananas." I stated sternly. Yang gulped.
"Is this an interogation?" Yang hesitantly asked.
"Is this a Purple Banana? Why is Purple Banana? How the Banana Purple? Purple Banana is Banana Purple? Purple Banana is ate? What? Purple Banana is gone because? Because gone is Banana Purple?" I demanded rather twistedly disturbing.
"OKAY, OKAY! Enough with the... Purple Bananas! I'll tell you everything!" She confessed.
"Purple Banana." I asked.
"... P-purple Banana?" She asked fearfully.
"Where's your dad?" I demanded.
Silence.
"I don't have a dad." Yang replied sadly.
"Yeah, custody papers, amiright? Law keeping the father and daughter out of trouble?" I joked.
"No, he's dead."
Well that shit's depressing.
"Do you know what happened to him?" I asked.
"Went looking for Ruby's mom... didn't come back." She explained hesitantly.
"Right, both of your parents are dead. Good to know." I hummed.
Silence.
"Why are you like this?" She asked frustratedly.
"Cuz I'm built different. Maybe it's the reason you mostly act like my age than a little girl who should be making cute friends in school by now." I wondered off.
"Are you just that mentally retarted?" She gave a flat glare.
"Purple Banana." I said back.
"Right, Yang. You forgot you were talking to a escaped patient from the loony bin that's threatening you with a gun." She moaned to herself.
"It kinda sucks, doesn't it?" I hummed.
"Yeah, talking to you." She snarked back.
"No, I mean life in general." I corrected her.
"Are you trying to be the good guy after you brain-fucked me with a fruit that doesn't exist?" She scowled.
"I mean, that's the American Health Care System worked with some extra steps removed. Notably the tax paying part..." I whispered to her.
"What do you want from me?" She backed away.
"Selfless bullshit recognition something something that's going to make my depressing heart-broken feelings feel better. Go figure and try to understand a psycopath without being one yourself." I rolled my eyes.
"Is this what this is? Moaning your problems to a little kid like me?" Yang asked.
"I'm trying something different. All this time, I've been ranting all of my mistakes and tried to become the perfect person I could imagine but I couldn't complete a single chapter on my life. Hopefully, I'll trip next to the rabbit hole so I won't fuck myself further..." I growled.
"What are you even talking about?" Yang asked.
"It's- not nothing. Nothing means denial. I'm talking about collecting debts to people so that they would be forced to support my wellbeing in a reluctant, hateful manner. I'm talking people taking pity on me relucantly." I explained.
"I... don't follow. If you're going to rant about your problems, MAKE IT SO THAT SOMEONE CAN UNDERSTAND!" Yang shouted, frustrated.
Silence.
"... You know how you help people, and you kinda expect them to help you back?" I suggested. Yang stared at me flatly.
"Right, it's the fact that they don't help you back for the most of the time. I live in a world where most of these muthafockas are everywhere and try to take advantage of you. I kinda want to change that logic so if I help people, added with some extra manipulation and some blackmail, people would reluctantly, have no choice but to help me back to their own benefit." I explained thoroughly.
"... and I thought I had a depressing life." Yang added quietly.
"What, you're saying living in a world that's close to the truth is depressing as hell? It's normal for people to have these mindsets. If I whine or cry about it, no one would care about me. They would just... brush off my beggings, and return to their perfect life. It's like second nature to ignore things that's bad." I hummed.
"I mean, I would ignore a begger in the streets. I don't know them, I don't want to hear about them. I would just ignore them in general." I nodded.
"Now, I can't just cry about it and wait someone to take pity on me. No one's going to reach out until you make something that interests them. Too bad I don't have anything interesting. I talk about purple bananas. That's not interesting. That's confusing." I scoffed.
"So I rant. I rant about everything in life that throws at me. Because that's the only thing I could do to expect a reaction from everybody. I rant, I rant, I talk my mouth all day and I talk so much to the point where it gets loud." I motioned my hands.
"Loud equals reaction. But, in the deepest part of my heart, I don't think I'm helping them too much. I just... don't like people collapsing because of me. I know my ranting doesn't help, but I used to like helping people." I wondered off.
"You just get this warm feeling when you've made them smile with your own acomplishments. All that determination, all of that hardwork put into that son of a bitch to be happy, and it's beautiful. So nice, also..." I smiled.
"Then... I haven't focused on myself for a while. Got depressed, got bad, and it all felt awful. I don't like awful, and nobody likes them. When you've made the connections, when you've got the closest people that'll bring you right up, you expect them to reach a hand back." I narrowed my eyes down.
"My other hand gave up. It's poking, squeezing, tapping other people's shoulders to get their attention, ranting, almost... and the other hand that's still waiting?" I perked my eyebrows up.
"Let's say it's getting tired...." I muttered sadly.
"Goddamnit. You expect them to grab your hand. It usually ends like that and BAAM! Good ending. Don't know why mine's still standing, unfortunately..." I dozed off.
"Yeah. That's the terrifying fate of people who mutter about Purple Bananas... life hits them and you get the short end of the stick and die alone..." I finally explained my problems to Yang.
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"I didn't understand a clue about anything you just said." Yang replied flatly.
"Good! My life's might as well fucked, wanna drink our problems away?" I suggested to Yang as I took out a swig of Jack Daniels to the counter.
"I'm underage." She replied sadly.
"When's that's gotta stop ya? You're mature enough to listen to this jackass! You're strong enough to endure the domestic violence from your god-awful Uncle! You've grown taller! Have a swig of Jack Daniels and get yourself some drinks! You deserve it!" I offered a glass to the petite blonde.
"I always wondered why people drink this." Yang slowly sipped the whiskey.
"Dunno. Must be the taste." I suggested as I downed the shot.
"Augh. It's awful." Yang scowled as she felt da real shit.
"Just like life." I finished, as I wondered when God decided to take me to Hell.