Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Do What You Have To Do ❯ Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Nope, still ain't mine.

AN: ^_^' You're gonna kill me...

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-Chapter Six-

You know, even if you put today in comparison with several other days of my life, (*cough* yamibaka *cough* stupidcardtrick *cough* pegasuseyeballyuck *cough*) ...even considering that, I'm still having a bad day..

Er... my overly-snuggly yami notwithstanding, that is. Also his overly-affectionate kisses. And his... er... right. No wonder he's such a good thief - he really can't keep his hands to himself! Er... I'm not his self, by the way. Not really. That would be weird. If I were him... wait, I think I'm getting confused. Because I'm not him. I'm just... sort of him. Except not. I mean, you wouldn't see me acting like him... oh, wait. I forgot what I was wearing. Damn. Um... he's not me and I'm not him.

So there.

...um, who am I talking to anyway? The voice in my head is my yami's, and he's not talking right now. He's... got a little cackle that's sending shivers up my spine, but that's okay, 'cause he's pretty sexy when he's evil.

I didn't just say that, you know.

I don't dig evil. Weed is whack, and all that jazz. Um... not that yami does drugs, or anything. He's like this normally.

Granted, he usually doesn't start sticking his tongue in places where no one has ever stuck their tongue before, but... uh... maybe he just needs to get laid? I mean, he was stuck in that Ring for an awfully long time... Hm.

Note to self: Yami is a horny bastard. Do not ignore this. In fact, do the exact opposite. Take advantage of this fact!! With extreme prejudice!

...I still can't believe father threw a lamp at us.

Maybe I'm going into shock?

Yami... is giggling maniacally, bouncing gleefully on his toes as he stomps on Mr. Miyaki's cell phone - and Mr. Miyaki's big flabby fleshy hand. Ouch. Even though Yami's in sneakers, that's gotta hurt like a bitch.

And I'm talking like Malik. Dear Ra... I mean Kami-sama! I do! Really!

The overly-large female draped in a floral artist's nightmare, my still-goggle-eyed father, and the surprisingly calm (if somewhat pale and shaking) Hazumi have all retreated behind a table. So much for family loyalty. ...you know, there's a police station five minutes away from my house. Is that why I hear sirens? Have they called out the National Guard? Does Japan even have a National Guard? Damn it, why don't I pay attention in school?!

Because Yami dearest always distracts me with his snoring or his cackling or his Britney Spears. Duh.

...so I stare aimlessly at the ceiling and say to myself, "Self, your yami is a complete lunatic, and he's going to go and destroy at least eight people tonight, so why not let him have his fun? The house is still standing, and we can still erase people's memories, so why not just get out of his way and let the nice policemen die horrible bloody screaming deaths?"

Self... you're an idiot.

Yami makes a happy little noise in the back of his throat. I wonder why?

Oh. The red and blue light flashing through the front windows. That means the cops are here! Whoopiee! Mr. Miyaki makes a gurgling noise and crawls over towards his family. His left shoe is missing. And I think his coat is on fire.

...I also think I'm going to cry. Or hide.

//Hikari-mine, you go hide behind a table with the other quivering mortals, yes?//

My brows furrow. /Why...?/ He's never been that protective of me, plucking out people's vital organs or no.

He turns around and gives me what is possible the world's most dangerously, frighteningly, disturbing smile. //I wanna play!// he singsongs gleefully, and blows me a flirtatious kiss.

Heavy thuds rain on the door. "Open up! Police!"

Yami's smile widens joyfully.

I, myself, jump around a fallen chair and dive behind the nearest upturned table. When my dear yami wants to play... The door bursts open, and in come four heavyset men, eyes bright and dangerous, advancing on my slender, delicate, beautiful, everyday teenaged immortal undead Egyptian psychopath.

The poor, poor fools.

Yami just gives them a beguiling look from under his long dark lashes - /Hey! No! Stop that! Stop it! You can't look at them like that! That's my look, dammit!/

And he flicks back a shimmering lock of his silken hair with an elegant finger, and purrs a soft, "Welcome to my parlor..."

Said the spider to the fly.

The cops fan out around him, staring at the wreckage of our dining room, the huddled Miyakis, myself, and then look back at my sweetly smiling yami.

Who gives them a coy little wave and a wink and toys with a dangly bit of our Ring.

Hell, thy name is Yami no Bakura.

/YAMI! I said stop looking at them like that! I mean it!/

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