T-Shirt Gate (Funky P. Beard, Part 8)

When we left off, I was having a grand old time on the back porch, and Athena had just announced that there was a “situation” going on with Funky...

If you’re familiar with this mad world, welcome back! You’re a champion and I love you!!! If you’ve taken a break from the absurdity, no worries. I get it. I’ve provided a cast refresher just for you. And as always, if you’re new here... Welcome! You might regret it...

OP (c’est moi!) I’m Val.

Female, late 20s

Grad student, burlesque dancer, gamer (beard bait)

Perky, petite emo girl with purple hair

Likes crass humor

Decker

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Funky P. Beard (Funky)

Male, early 30s

Bona fide piece of shit alcoholic PSYCHO

Now my ex-boyfriend (hooray!!!)

Street Samurai

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Mori

The GM

Male, early/mid 30s

Hypersexual kinky bastard

Likes exhibitionism, vomit, and illegal substances

Charismatic, cult-leader vibes

Amusing, welcoming, always kind to me

Usually able to handle Funky’s nonsense

​

Axton

Male, late 20s

Grad student

Extremely sexy, charming, pleasant to be around

Smells nice, has a sense of humor that meshes well with my own

Usually able to ignore Funky’s psycho behavior

The primary target of Funky’s jealousy

Rigger

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Sage

Male, early/mid 30s

Assistant GM

Host of the gaming weekends

Fed up with Funky, no longer level-headed

Skilled in martial arts

Mage

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Athena

Female, early 30s

Co-host of the gaming weekends

Despises Funky

Nevertheless, she’s attempting to keep the peace between Sage and Funky

Petite, pretty, friendly... probably also beard bait

Shaman

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Snorlax

Male, early 30s

The funny fat guy (NOT a neckbeard)

Easy-going, friendly, rarely directly involved in the weekend’s drama

Former semi-professional wrestler

Big fan of the devil’s lettuce

Adept

​

Chapter 8: T-Shirt Gate

Trigger Warning:

Verbal abuse

Attempted violence

Profanity

Penises

​

Funky was standing in the middle of the War Room with my cell phone in his hand. Mori was standing nearby, wearing a bedazzled heliotrope kaftan.

Funky: I *knew* you two degenerates were banging all weekend. Now I have PROOF. What the actual FUCK is this???

He had managed to break into my phone again. This had been a regular occurrence when we were dating. He had once accused me of sleeping with a professor for whom I’d been the TA because he found so many (strictly school-related) texts between us. This time, the texts were admittedly indicative of at least some semblance of mutual attraction, although I still wasn’t sure of the precise nature of the attraction. But Funky was no longer my boyfriend. Why was it any of his business if I’d sent some pathetic attempt at a flirtatious text?

He was pointing to the selfie that I’d sent Axton around 4:00 AM to let him know I’d made it home. “You sent Pretty Boy a PARTIAL NUDE???”

Mori: Let me see that!

He glanced at my phone and then side eyed Funky.

Mori: On what planet is THIS a partial nude? Funky, I’m gonna have to school you in smut.

Funky: But look at Pretty Boy’s reply. He said she looked hot.

Mori glanced at the phone again and shrugged. “She does. What of it?”

Funky: She’s making “fuck me eyes” at him. I’m so sick of being cuckolded!

Me: You’ve never seen my “fuck me eyes,” Funky. How would you know what they look like?

Funky: Oh yes I have!

Me: No. You’ve only seen my “fine, just get it over with” eyes.

Funky: Whatever. I didn’t hurt the last person you cheated on me with because my unassailable honor won’t allow me to harm a female. But, Pretty Boy... I WILL END YOU.

Axton (still unfazed by Funky’s venom): I really wish you’d stop calling me that.

Funky dropped my phone and lurched at Axton. But as usual, Funky was still drunky. So Axton was able to easily dodge the punch. Funky, on the other hand, completely lost his footing, stumbled a few paces, flailed in a circle, and punched a hole in the wall that separated the War Room from the garage.

Sage: God damn it, Funky! You’re paying for THAT, too. Mori, you can either host our gaming weekends at YOUR place from now on, or you can kick Funky out of the group. I’ve HAD IT.

Funky pretended to cry again. “Why does no one care that my girlfriend’s cheating on me with the Boy Band Reject????”

Axton: Ah, “Boy Band Reject.” That’s better.

Me: What about “Hot Rocker Boy?”

Axton: Love that!

He leaned over and kissed my forehead.

Funky: ARE YOU SEEING THIS?????? ARE YOU HEARING THIS???? They’re not even trying to deny it! And now he’s wearing the same t-shirt she was wearing in her slutty pic! They’re sharing clothes like a couple of GIRLS!”

Mori: Funky, she broke it off with you. And not in the fun way... We all witnessed it. Val and Axton are both single, consenting adults. If they want to scandalously... share clothes??? (Mori faltered a bit, as his intensely perverse brain was seemingly unable to comprehend the more innocent delights of early-stage attraction.) I really don’t understand the problem. You’re not being cuckolded. Feel me?

Funky: NO.

Mori (to Funky): Go ice your hand. Now.

He turned to the rest of us. “Chummers! The mission is upon us! Assistant GM, please prepare the tinctures.”

Sage: Funky, go ice your hand, and then go sit outside until we call you. Could someone please keep an eye on him so that he doesn’t break anything in the kitchen? I’ll prepare the shots once the blunderbuss is out of the way.

Funky grumbled his way to the freezer. No one was keen to beardsit, but Athena ultimately took on the role. She even helped him put ice cubes in a Ziplock and gave him a small flannel to keep his skin from getting too cold.

Once Funky was in “time out,” Sage began pouring and arranging the shots. It seemed that we each only got ONE today. That was a relief! We gathered around the table, sans Funky. But Mori insisted that we invite him back in for the “pre-game.” Snorlax took on the chore of releasing the beard. As soon as Funky entered the fuel station, he menacingly remarked, “I know where you live, Axton.”

Mori raised his magic Funky-silencing hand and began, “Chummers! We have planned. We have strategized. I hereby declare that it is time to execute our mission! But first... FIREBALL. Each tincture shall light a fire in our bellies, improve out spell-casting, and lead us to victory. Chummers... DRINK!!!”

We all slammed the shots.

Mori: To the War Room!

We circled up, this time sitting wherever the hell we wanted to. I picked up my cell phone and shoved it in my pajama pocket. I really should have known better than to leave my phone unattended with Funky on the loose. But I’d had other things on my mind.

Funky miraculously took a seat next to Snorlax without protesting. But he had a devilish glint in his eyes, and I suspected that his beard was obscuring a smirk.

Funky: I tweeted that partial nude that you sent Boy Band Reject to see if my followers agree that I’ve been cuckolded. Enjoy having your slutty pic judged by the world, Val.

Funky had *maybe* just under a hundred Twitter followers. Many of whom were his randos.

Me: Good idea, Funky. Let all your randos know that you’ve had a girlfriend for the past year.

Snorlax pulled out his phone, scrolled a bit, and laughed out loud.

Snorlax: Funky, your lady followers seem to have some opinions!

Snorlax started reading the comments to the rest of us.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend... DICK.”

“If I’d known you were taken, you would have NEVER eaten this peach.”

“She wears other guys’ t-shirts... you let other girls use your beard as a bicycle seat. Works for me!”

“I’ll send you a REAL nude (winky kissy face emoji).”

Funky scurried off to the corner with his phone, either deleting his tweet or posting angry replies in his defense. Judging from the time he spent, I assumed that he was posting angry replies and perhaps also attempting to do damage control with his funky-pooned randos.

Mori: Funky, this Twitter drama is of your own making. You are here to serve as my Street Samurai. You shall dispense with your abuse of social media until we have finished infiltrating the targeted media station of the Horizon Group.

Funky ignored him and continued to tweet away.

Mori: NOW.

Funky scurried into the bathroom and locked the door. I decided to grab a soda from the fuel station during the delay, but I had to riffle through a crap-ton of beer in the fridge before I finally found a can of Diet Coke. I was leaving the fuel station with my strange addiction in hand when a bearded skyscraper suddenly towered in front of me. His brow wasn’t furrowed for once, and his hands were raised in an attempt at a peaceful stance.

Funky: I need to know... I promise I won’t yell unless your answer makes me mad.

Me: Funky, everything I say and do makes you mad. Just tell me what you need to know. No promises that I’ll give you an answer.

Funky: Is Axton bigger than me?

I burst out laughing. THAT was what he was worried about? So worried that he was actually attempting to converse in a civilized manner?

Me: I have no idea.

Funky: Bullshit.

Me: Not everyone goes straight to Pound Town as soon as they catch feelings for someone.

Funky: I was trying to find his dick pic on your phone, but you must have hidden it pretty well.

Me: I don’t have any dick pics on my phone, Funky.

Funky: You deleted MINE?

Me: Yeah... I thought they were jokes.

Funky: Because you think I’m so SMALL that it’s FUNNY?

Me: No. Because dick pics are ridiculous. Can we please stop talking about it?

Funky: Just text me once you guys bang and let me know?

Me: NO! Ew! What’s wrong with you???

Funky:  Fine. But just wait until he finds out that you blow your nose after you wake up in the morning. Or that you listen to Panic! At the Disco. Or that you drink sparkling water and BURP... like a DUDE. You drink ROSE´. You like CILANTRO. You watch JACKASS. You like the wrong episodes of Doctor Who. You were in a community theatre production of CATS. You spend hours on the computer “writing papers,” but you think it’s a waste of time to troll d-bags on the internet for their own good. You have no sense of altruism. You might as well be Ayn Rand.

Me: I’m well aware of your many grievances with me. Be glad I’m not your problem anymore.

Funky: Yeah, well... That Boy Band Reject might think he wants to stick it in you. But he’s in for a rude awakening once he gets to know you.

Me (shouting): Hey, Axton! I like Jackass and I drink rose´.

Axton: I love Jackass! Movie night at my place next week?

Me: Sounds great!

I smirked, narrowed my eyes at Funky, and struck a triumphantly sassy pose.

Funky: FUCK YOU BOTH!!!!

He stomped away, allowing me to re-enter the War Room. I felt a little guilty about dragging Axton into my breakup drama. And I don’t think I managed to get the point across to Funky that he was being completely irrational. But who cares?! It seemed like Axton was more than happy to watch Jackass movies and drink rose´ with me without assassinating my character. Even if nothing else ever happened between us, I would treasure this hypothetical first date with him.