Names are not important, just the goal. Do you want to get together and trash on Akabayashi, or not? Don't start snooping around. But if you badly need a name, just call me "B"
"B"? THat's what you're going with? B? Like bitch?
Alright, bitch. I'll trash on Akabayashi with you. Let's talk about the other night.
You may not know this about me, but I dabble in cookery now and again. I like the taste of a home-cooked meal, alright, and I haven't had the luxury of relying on other people for it most of my life. Last night, I got myself a nice, long, fatty cut of cod. You ever skinned a cod, bitch? They're fine. The meat is light, sinewy, and comes apart from the skin like plastic wrap if you know where to cut.
Well, I'd skinned the damn things and sliced the meat into cutlets when I hear my door buzzer go off. No big surprise, since I told you, I got this kid coming over to help out with my new computer, right.
I put my knife down, clean my hands on my apron, and head off to the door. I open it up, and it's that damned red fool sitting on my stoop, cane on his shoulder, looking all smug and ridiculous.
Immediately, I regret leaving my knife in the kitchen.
"The hell are you doing here," I berate him, "Don't you have some kids to be following around?"
"Jeez, Ao. Jeez," He says, shaking his head like I'm the impudent one here, "I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by."
"Bullshit. You want something."
"Well, now that you mention it..." He begins, climbing up to his feet with a grunt. He taps his cane against his shoulder like he's thinking about something. He isn't.
"The pandemic closed down my favorite restaurant, and...you look like you've got some food in the oven, right?"
"No, I don't. I hadn't even finished prepping it," I retort.
Wrong choice. I can see his eyes lighting up behind his glasses.
"So you are cooking something."
I grit my teeth. I wish I had a toothpick to chew on, something to simulate my last nerve.
"If I feed you, will you fucking leave."
"Aw, Ao, you're offering to make me dinner? I don't know what to say..."
"Then shut the fuck up."
He came in, and he talked the whole time. I couldn't hear him for a lot of it, since the fish did a lot of crackling and sizzling in the pan. I'd much rather listen to a dead fish frying in oil than Akabayashi's voice, so I hope that tells you something about the state of his conversational skills.
Say one good thing for him, though. No leftovers. He ate a whole damn fish on his own. I didn't want him there, but at least he ate his fill. Fucking idiot.