This fic contains adult language, slight adult content, and shounen
ai. Please read with discretion. It is also unbetaed. ^_^'
I claim no ownship to the characters of "Gundam Wing". They belong
to Bandai although Solo would like to claim them all as his personal
love slaves. ^_^' Please don't sue.
Feedback would be worshipped and might just recieve the coveted Oreo
flavored Pockey.
This fic is by me, plude. I'm telling you that now because I don't
want to ruin the feeling of the ending with my custom closure.
A Completely Random Waste of Time in An Otherwise Sane and
Rationally
Planned Out Hour...
Duo Maxwell... an enigma of randomness and complete and utter
inefficiency. This... boy from colony cluster L2 completely and
totally manages to illude all sense of logic and order yet somehow
manages to function in almost complete efficiency when placed in
Gundam Deathscythe. How is it possible that a complete baka who
wastes such large amounts of time on things such as pop culture and
things such as decorating dorms can be so completely and utterly
savant at the very same time?
For and example of his stupidity, the baka puts his shoes on in
different orders at different times!!! Sometimes, he will put on
both socks and then the right shoe followed by the left, and
sometimes, he'll put on one sock and one shoe and then the other
sock
and the other shoe. Sometimes, he even puts on one sock and will
then have to search for another one! How is it possible that one so
clueless in habits as simple as getting one's self dressed can
calculate complicated mathematical equations used to keep from
exploding upon impact with the earth?!
Somehow, he manages to completely and totally allude all sense of
reason or purpose while completely fulfilling his own purpose. It's
as if he's so categorically ingenious that all of his random acts
are
perfectly placed so that he might perfectly blend with the schooled
fish of the society on earth while sticking completely out like an
orange dot in a series of blue. But, the wisdom of it is that he's
so obvious he's under perfect cover. It's completely ludicrous. He
does "victory dances" every time he scores a point in basketball
during class!
By "victory dances" I mean the idiot actually throws down the ball
and begins to wiggle his pelvis as if someone dropped something in
his pants that he was trying to shake out. Then he spins on one
foot, usually the right one, and lands only to stick his index and
middle fingers into the air in what he calls a "victory symbol".
This whole process takes a good 22.346 seconds out of class time on
average, and yet this complete and utter waste of time isn't only
applauded which takes another 11.342 seconds on average, but is also
allowed by the school and even encouraged! It's outrageous and
foolish. Why would someone waste such time on such a thing?!
That's not all... Yesterday, I arrived at the base to see the
idiot... the one I was just describing... actually managed to
completely flatten the base before I even arrived. It's
infuriating! And, for some reason it seems where ever I show up to
attend school undercover he's there already or he arrives a day
later.
I just don't comprehend how someone so completely insufficient at
time can be so completely and totally efficient and sometimes even a
step ahead of even me. It's incalculable!
There's another thing too. I'm reluctant to type of such a strange
occurrence even though only I will see it, but... Last night he came
in from a mission excessively late. I was in bed, however obviously
his presence awoke me. He smelled of blood, gun oil, and jet fuel
which of course is common for a mission. Just as I had decided no
imminent threat was near and was about to return to partial sleep I
heard his footsteps go not to his bed but towards mine. I, of
course, reached under my pillow for my gun, wondering if he'd
decided
I was some sort of hindrance to his mission here. I was ready to
alleviate his life in order to protect my own mission when my ears
and nostrils detected no gun being pulled. It was very curious
indeed for the next thing I knew he was removing his shoes from the
sound and tossing them somewhere in the vicinity of his side of the
room before suddenly sitting and then laying down in my bed next to
me. This was quite peculiar and suspicious. So, I did what any
efficient, intelligent, and rational being would do. I pulled out my
gun and held it to his temple while choking him with my other arm as
I demanded to know just what he was doing. His response was even
more bazaar. I surely would have pulled my own gun and tried to free
myself from such a predicament, but he simply began to yell and
carry
on calling me crazy! When I asked him what he was doing again he
turned all red and his body temperature rose two and three fourths
degrees. He didn't answer me. He just told me to "chill", whatever
that means, and tried to lower my gun. Well, there was no way I was
about to lower my gun in light of his clearly less than rational
behavior. We stayed like that a very long time, him laying atop me,
my left arm around his neck as my right pointed a silenced gun to
his
temple. After approximately fourteen minutes and thirty-eight
seconds he asked me if I was really going to kill him, and if so why
I was taking so long. He then began to giggle. It was aberrant!
Why hadn't I killed him?! Why had I just been laying there all that
time trying to decide what to do?! It made no sense. It was a
complete waste of time and energy. What had I been doing? Had his
imbecilic behavior of the past few months worn off on me and caused
me to loose all sense of rationality? This revelation left me
helplessly confused and before I knew what had happened the baka had
tugged himself free and was making his way to his own bed which he
climbed in and rolled over to look at me. All he did after that was
ask me if I was ever going to answer him. When I did not he went to
sleep. I was up the rest of the night trying to find an answer just
for myself. It was preposterous!
No... I'm doing it again, aren't I? How is it possible this idiot
has gotten to me so much that I'm wasting my time and energy typing
about him in a time that is otherwise normally set up to type down
and collect my thoughts about the missions so that I might become
more efficient at them by identifying mistakes?!
Unless... Perhaps it is that this imbecile is an endangerment to my
mission potentially. No. That cannot be it. I'm merely
rationalizing my utter distraction from the things important. He is
only a danger to my mission if I allow him to influence my efficency
of thought and production by distracting me. I shall simply try and
ignore his further ludicrous ministrations. I will start by stopping
this typing. It is a foolish waste of my time and has already taken
twenty-two minutes and seventeen seconds from my set aside hour for
essential mission analysis.
Why am I still typing. I'm wasting more indispensable set aside
time for mission comprehension and dissection. I must stop... I'm
stopping now.
Why did I type that? What's happening to me? No more. I won't let
him get to me any more.
This has to stop right now.