Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Ozzie groaned loudly. “Please put pants on.”
“Oh, sure! But you didn’t give me pants.” Tuesday waved the sweats, dangling between his fingers as if they were contaminated. “You gave me whatever this sad thing is.”
“Um… Well… They’re not sad. They’re comfy. I work from home, so…”
“Doing what?” Tuesday scoffed. “Kicking kittens? Stomping on flowers? Punching hatchlings? These are the garments of a deranged mind.”
In spite of his complaints, Tuesday did finally put the pants on.
“The garments of a deranged—you literally showed up in my bathtub as a ball of goo talking about intergalactic bullshit. But yeah, I’m deranged for wearing sweatpants,” Ozzie grumbled as he opened a lower cabinet to retrieve his Batman bong.
“A ball of what? Goo?” Tuesday rolled his eyes. “Says the bag of meat and calcium sticks.”
“Bag of what?” Ozzie set the bong on the counter, but the sound of tearing fabric drew his attention. “What are you doing now?”
Tuesday was busying himself ripping the legs off the sweats to make indecently short shorts. “Fixing them. Obviously.”
“I don’t… Fine. It’s fine. Shorts are… just fine.” Ozzie let out a heavy sigh, raking his thick fingers through his hair. “You wanna smoke?”
“Smoke what?” Tuesday swung the shredded pant legs around.
“Weed. It’s a plant here on Earth.” Ozzie pulled a jar out of the same cabinet he’d gotten the bong from. “We can get high, and I desperately need to get high.”
“Right! The marijuana. Yup. Got it. And yeah, me too.” Tuesday looked around, opening random cabinets and some drawers. “Dropped into some guy’s bath and then he called me a pile of goo.”
“I’m sorry. What should I call you?”
“Your Highness, Your Majesty, light of your life. Those work.”
“Right.” Ozzie twisted the lid of the jar off and then brought it up to his nose for a smell. He picked out a few nuggets, broke them up with his fingers, and loaded up the glass bowl of the bong.
Tuesday was still exploring.
Ozzie arched his brow. “Are you looking for something?”
“Trash. Incinerator.” Tuesday waved the pant legs. He bent over at his waist, deliberately sticking his ass out as he continued to search.
“There’s a trash compactor under the sink.” Ozzie fidgeted with packing the bowl. “So, uh. Where… where exactly are you from? Does your, um, planet have a name?”
Tuesday made a loud, retching noise as he tossed the pant legs. “Mm, I guess humans can’t pronounce that either. Must be your gag reflex getting in the way. Most of you have those pretty bad, right?”
“I wouldn’t say bad gag reflex.” Ozzie made a face, then attempted to repeat the name back to him. The tickle in histhroat made him want to barf. “And wait, what’s your name again?”
Tuesday repeated the awful sound from earlier. “It’s all in the back of your throat. Really get some phlegm behind it.”
“I think we’re gonna stick with Tuesday. If that’s really what you want.” Ozzie hummed, grabbing the bong and a lighter. “What about Pinky? Wait, scratch that. I don’t wanna be Brain.”
“Don’t worry.” Tuesday patted his arm. “No one would ever call you that.”
“Fuck you!” Ozzie jerked away with a scowl. “Rude little goo.”
“Fuck you! But later!” Tuesday grinned. “Trying to get high right now.”
“Ha ha.” Ozzie flicked the lighter and brought his lips to the mouthpiece of the bong, sucking in the smoke. He held it in for as long as he could stand, offering the bong to Tuesday. When he exhaled, a laugh escaped with it. “Goobert.”
“Weak.” Tuesday giggled, accepting the bong and snatching the lighter. He lit up and took a hit, sucking more and more, using one of his free hands to flip Ozzie off. He blew a thick cloud of smoke toward the ceiling, croaking, “I’m sure you’re very smart for a human.”
