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

The Best Thing That Never Happened

"So you're going on a date?" Ray asked. Frank was hanging with Mikey and Ray, his only friends at college. It was their odd routine. They'd hand out in the lounge in their dormitories in their underwear while watching some novellas in Spanish. None of them really knew Spanish that well, but it didn't matter. They'd just laugh at how pathetic their social lives turned out.

"Yeah," Frank answered. He sat Indian style on the cracked faux leather sofa and looked at how Mikey and Ray were pressed together, a mess of limbs and Ray's oddly frizzy hair. They fit together like a puzzle...a puzzle of pale limbs and an out-of-place afro. He giggled at the sight.

"Who are you going with?" Mikey asked, untangling his legs from Ray's. "And where?"

"This guy at my internship named Gerard," Frank replied. "I don't even know where we're going. It's like an epic surprise."

"Rape!" Ray yelled, his eyes widened. "It's rape. He's going to roofie you, have awkward sloppy sex with your drugged, passed out body and leave a weird note in your pants."

This outbreak caused Mikey and Frank to give him ultimate what-the-fuck-Ray faces. This happened all the time. Ray was a nervous wreck and always had odd theories about life. For example, he believed until he was 16 that the toilet was a monster that wanted to eat his ass. Or that he thought the Tooth Fairy was God or some shit. Ray was just a weirdo. But they all were.

"Ray, please stop watching crime shows late at night with a caffeine-fueled ambition," Mikey said. "I'll leave you."

"For who?"

"Frankie's short ass," Mikey replied. He held out his hand and made a 'duh' face. "Who else? Lyn-Z?"

"No, never!" Ray said. "If you EVER leave me for her, I will castrate you."

Mikey laughed and adjusted his slightly broken glasses. "Yeah, sure, just make sure the toilet doesn't eat your ass," he snorted. "But seriously, Gerard?"

"Yeah," Frank replied. "What, you know him?"

"What's his last name?"

"Way." Frank thought hard about this. Way was a common name, right? It was simple and had three fucking letters for God's sake. But it was also Mikey's last name.

"MY brother?" Mikey asked, squinting. "What color is his hair?"

"Bright red," Frank replied. "C'mon, Gerard's hair was black, long and kind of greasy the last time we saw him. He just went off the charts. It's a coincedence, nothing more, right?"

"Gerard's an animator, comic book artist and writer," Mikey replied. "Are you dating my brother?"

"Oh shit, I think so," Frank replied. "Dammit. How did I not see that? He's just like I last remembered him in 10th grade: likes being naked, awkward, hates fruit and loves black coffee." He covered his face. "Oh my God. Does he know who I am?"

"Probably," Ray replied. He began braiding Mikey's hair out of boredom. "Why does it matter?"

"Well, I was so awkward and short and weird as a kid," Frank replied.

Ray stifled a laugh and Mikey laughed, snorting between the giggles. "You still are, dude," Mikey said.

"Fuck you and your damn afro," Frank said. "I'm buying candy from the campus store."

"Can I have a Snickers bar?" Mikey asked, bouncing up and down on Ray's lap.

"No," Frank said. "You're a bitch ass and so is Ray's afro."

"Leave my hair outta your bullshit," Ray said, looking offended. "Mikey, stop bouncing. This is getting weird."

"I hate you both so much," Frank said as he left the lobby.