Title: Hey, Billy!

 Author: meagan <nutmeg@serv.net>

 Summary: You want a summary? Um... Big Dumb Jock guy from the Sprite commercial a couple of years ago about the pants contest sticks his hands in Billy's pockets.

 Distribution: Why the hell would anyone want this? If you do, please ask and explain your reasons.

 Rating: PG-13, maybe?

 Disclaimer: Not mine. I think these characters -- if they're considered characters -- would belong to Coca-Cola or whatever company owns the beverage doing this contest. If they want them back after this, that is.

 Notes: Originally written 16 September 2000. I was coming down with a cold. I had been doing Nyquil shots all day. This seems like a good idea under the influence of NYQUIL YOU BIG FUCKING Q! Ahem. On top of that, halfway through this snippet, the all-disco Saturday night radio show decided to play "Copacabana." I did not change stations. Please excuse any insanity. This commercial had been bugging the hell out of me ever since I saw it. It just *screams* "next scene." Basically, this guy -- Billy -- has tons of girls walking up to him and fishing around in his pants for money because Sprite is giving away pants with money in the pockets. Then the last scene is of an obvious jock stereotype guy (who reminds me more than a little bit of Larry from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_) smiling at him and saying...

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  "Hi, Billy!"

  Oh, shit. All day long, random girls had been walking up to Billy, shoving their hands in his pockets and groping him. It had taken a while, but he finally figured out what the deal was. It was that damned Sprite contest. Word got around that he had won a pair of the Special Pants with money in the pockets. He might as well get it over with. The last thing he needed was a football player deciding to try a new kicking style on his head. He turned, facing... Whoever the jock in question was. He really had no clue. They ran in different social circles, and all of the football players looked alike to him. "Okay, go for it."

  "Huh?"

  Billy moved his hands away from his body, preparing for the invasion. "Go ahead. Stick your hands in my pockets. I know you want to."

  Now Football Hero's eyes lit up. "Really?" The jock glanced around the crowded hall. "Cool. But let's go in here." And he urged Billy into a deserted classroom.

  Alone with a guy twice his size, Billy grew slightly nervous as he watched the larger teen's eyes shimmer with glee. As the bulk moved towards him, he shut his eyes tight, clenched his teeth, and turned his head. It seemed like the thing to do. His head would go that way anyway when the fist hit his chin. Then a large hand (to go with the large body) made its way in his right front pocket. Slowly, carefully, the fingers searched until they hit a very personal area. Billy jumped. "Hey!"

  "Sorry." And then the left pocket was occupied by another large hand -- and the fingers of both hands worked as a team. Because of the angle involved, Billy realized that the jock was standing *behind* him, not in front of him. And the body behind him was... Well, the fingers in his pockets discovered the huge holes in the pockets and the fly in his underwear, and suddenly he stopped caring about the condition of the figure behind him. After several long frantic moments of hoping like hell no one would walk in (at least that was how Billy spent the time until the last few seconds), the jock carefully extracted now-sticky hands from Billy's pockets, grabbing tissues from the box on the teacher's desk to clean up.

  "You know, you could have just taken my word for it."

  The jock stared at Billy with more-than-slightly glazed eyes. "Huh?"

  "About the pants."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You know. The contest."

  "What contest?" The jock continued straightening his own clothing -- as well as Billy's -- before clasping Billy's hands in his own surprisingly gentle hands, deliberately stroking Billy's fingers with thumbs that had recently been demonstrating why being opposable was a good thing, at least as far as thumbs were concerned. Suddenly it occurred to Billy that Big Dumb Jock types don't always follow current soft drink company contests. "So, what are you doing Friday night after the game?"

  ~~~ the end ~~~