It's Not a Fashion Statement, It's a Deathwish

Frank tugged at the collar on his buttoned-up shirt and fumbled with his red tie. Ray swatted his hands and adjusted it.

"Geez, Ray," Frank complained. "It's not a big deal. Just a small date." He pulled at his black skinny jeans and groaned as Mikey tried to brush his hair. "Guys, I appreaciate it since you're both my best friends, but it's not a big deal."

Mikey glared at Frank icily and said, "It kind of is. This is my brother we're talking about."

"So? He sees me like this everyday," Frank argued.

"Well, this is different," Mikey snapped back in a motherly fashion. "You can look like crap any other day, but not on your first date."

Ray looked at Frank in surprise. "Your first date?" he said. "Dude, you're like 21."

"Shut up," Frank hissed. He fanned them both away as he heard his phone buzz, telling him that he had a text message. He grabbed his phone and checked it, seeing a text from Gerard. "He's outside. I gotta go."

"Godspeed, Franklin, Godspeed," Ray said.

"May your date be as successful as ours," Mikey agreed.

"Whatever," Frank groaned.

*time lapse*

"A beach?" Frank asked Gerard. He looked at the other man, his bright red hair vibrant in the faint light of the car. "I thought you had class, but this..."

"Oh, pfft," Gerard said sassily. "We're not reenacting some cheesy, B-list romance film." He held up a shovel and a yellow plastic bucket, a grin splitting his face. "We're going crab-hunting."

"What?" Frank asked. "I haven't done that since I was fourteen." That was the last time he really talked to Gerard as well.

"So?" Gerard poked him playfully in the ribs with the shovel. "Are you feeling it now, Mr. Krabs?"

Frank blushed. So of course he remembered him. That was their joke. Damned crabs tore Frank's shorts in half and he had to run back to the beach house Gerard's parents had rented, covering his rosy cheeks. Mr. Krabs had not been feeling it that day.

"I hope so," Frank replied, unfastening his seatbelt. He opened the door of Gerard's car, stepped out and stretched his short legs. It had been about a 45 minute drive to the beach from downtown of their small town in New Jersey. His legs were well asleep as well.

That whole night was the two of them running along the beach, capturing crabs and looking at seashells and starfish in tidepools. When it began to get dark, Gerard got a flashlight from his car. He flicked it on and off, making a stupid face and a weird ghost sound.

Frank laughed and tossed sand at him. "Oh no," Gerard said. His hands were on his hips now. "Guuuuurl." He rolled his neck before tossing the bucket at Frank.

Frank caught it and ran across the beach. "My bucket!" Gerard gasped, chasing him.

Frank jumped over a few sand dunes and fell, scraping his chin and palms. He gasped in pain and looked up to find a crab scuttling towards him. "Oh God," he muttered. "Go away, you fricking crab!" He sat up and crawled away, wincing as sand was ground into his raw palms.

Gerard tripped and fell next to Frank. "Damned crabs," he cursed. He let out a high-pitched cry and a stupid face.

"Gerard, you okay?" Frank asked. He screamed as he felt pinches all over his legs and looked to see crabs all over him. They were on Gerard as well, leaving both men yelling and tossing crabs at each other in frantic, panicky motions.

Frank jumped up and slapped the crabs away, yelling in pain. He began stomping the crabs and screaming, "ARE YOU FEELING IT MR. KRABS?" He ripped off a crab's claws and snapped them at the retreating crabs. "Clamp, clamp, motherfucker!"

Gerard laughed and grabbed the poor limbless crab. "We're gonna cook him," Gerard said. "And we're gonna enjoy him with buttersauce and lemons."

"Yeah."

"Yeah." Gerard smiled.

Notes

Are you feelin' it Mr. Krabs?