Work Text:
Eric is angry with the guys. Again. He has been getting angry more and more often lately. He is not exactly sure why, but the whole way they treat him, as if he is somehow lesser to them, just pisses him off. And he knows that this has been happening since literally forever, but it bothers him much more these days for some reason.
The guys are just so immature.
For example, just yesterday Stan and Kyle were making faces at old people outside a nursing home! How mature is that?
He just needs a breath of fresh air from these babies.
And Eric knows what he is going to do. He is going to make himself appear more mature. Then, mature people just have to reach out to him, right?
Of course.
The only problem is, Eric has no idea how to appear more mature. What do mature people do? What do they look like?
Dad would’ve probably known…
He tried to ask Mom, but she brushed him off because she said she was in a hurry and left. Being ignored irritated Eric, so he decided to leave the house to find some inspiration elsewhere. Mom probably wouldn’t have been that helpful anyway.
And this is how he has found himself at a park, eating ice cream. At least he managed to convince Mom to give him a few bucks before she left.
Perhaps he should try asking someone else. But who?
Eric takes a look around. There aren’t really that many people in the park in comparison to the other times he’s been here. Two girls are sitting on a bench chatting, a couple of people are taking their dogs out for a walk, and a bunch of teenagers are at the skateboard ramp. Three boys, to be exact. The two of them are skating up and down the wooden rump, but the other one is lounging on the steps that lead to the other entrance of the park. Although a skateboard is lying next to his feet, he seems to have no intention of putting it to use and joining the other two.
He’s old. Well, not old like Mom, but definitely quite a few years older than Eric. High-school age, maybe. Ninth, tenth grade perhaps. His hair catches Eric’s eye: it’s red. It’s redder than any redhead’s he has seen before. (‘Gingers’, he thinks they’re called.) His skin seems to be pretty pale, but Eric can’t make out any more specific facial features from where he’s sitting.
The more he looks at him, the more Eric is convinced he has seen him around before. Not here in the park specifically, but around the town in general. They haven’t ever talked, but Eric believes his last name is…
…Ah, damn it, it’s definitely something related to music…
Tenorman! Yes, that sounds about right. He has no idea what the first name might be, though. He just knows that some kids at school said something about being scared of him, which is ridiculous: the guy is skinny as a twig, what is there to be scared of?
Maybe Eric should ask him! He can’t lie, having kids be scared of you is certainly kind of cool, and he seems old enough to be mature. Besides, he is going to be way more helpful than Mom, being a guy and all. Because as much as Mom might have wanted to help, she is still a girl – well, a woman – and her advice just wouldn’t be ideal to help Eric present himself like the mature man that he is.
Having made up his mind, the grade-schooler throws the last piece of the ice cream cone in his mouth and jumps off the bench.
Walking around the skateboard ramp, he silently approaches the teen, before taking a seat next to him on the steps. He does not become aware of Eric’s presence beside him, until Eric makes himself known.
“Hey! Hey, you!” Says Eric in order to get his attention.
The older boy turns his head around, giving him a puzzled look. “Hi…” He replies reluctantly.
Eric hasn’t exactly thought in detail about how the situation is going to play out, so he is going to have to find an effective conversation starter quickly. “So, you like skateboarding?”
“Sure. Why?” Despite the fact that he does answer, his tone is somewhat hesitant, as though he’d rather not be talking to Eric.
“Then… we aren’t you over there with the other two?” He asks.
“Leg injury”. The teen vaguely responds. It’s most definitely bullshit; if his leg really was injured, why would he bother bringing the skateboard along if he wasn’t going to use it at all? “But the real question is; what are you doing here?”
"Well, I can't really hang out with my friends anymore…" He trails off for a moment, hoping to create a mysterious atmosphere around his person so that this Tenorman will be interested in getting to know him. "They're just not mature enough for me any longer".
"Really?" He must have achieved his goal, because the redhead is genuinely fascinated. (Or at least that’s what it seems like.) Of course he’d be fascinated though, Eric is such a multi-dimensional and cool person, after all.
“Yeah. They act like babies all the time. Anyway, I’m Eric, what’s your name?”
“Scott”. It’s not that nice or grand of a name – not like his own – but then again, Eric cannot think of any other name that would suit this guy. Scott Tenorman it is, then. “So, Eric, you say your friends are too immature for you?” His reluctance seems to have disappeared.
“That’s right. All they’re interested in is playing stupid games and making dumb faces. They don’t realize that it’s time for them to grow up!” Eric says, the passion in his voice evident.
“I see. But why are you telling me all this?”
Here they go… Getting right to the point. Eric likes that in a person. “Well, you know, I've been thinking, that… since you’re in high school and all, maybe you could give me some tips on, you know, making those dumbasses know that I'm way too mature for them".
“Tips you say? Let me think…” Scott contemplates for a few seconds. He rests his chin on his hand, looking as if he is in deep thought. Eric leans slightly closer, stretching his ears, eager to hear whatever comes out of his mouth. “Okay, I think I might have the perfect solution for you”.
“Really? What is it?” He’s truly unable to hold back his enthusiasm. Finally, those assholes are gonna get it! They’re gonna be so embarrassed about their childishness and clearly inferior intelligence! Ha! Take that, Kyle!
Before saying anything more, Scott extends his open palm towards him. “That would be ten bucks”.
Eric stares at it dumbfounded for a second. Or two. “Huh?”
“No money, no solution. Sorry, kid”. He withdraws his hand, turning his gaze to the side.
Panicked that he might leave and abandon him without any help at all (not that Eric needs help, just… for the lack of a better word), Eric feels pressured to say something. “But – but ten bucks is, like, a lot”. He knows this is a fact. His mind gets lost simply at all the things he could buy with ten dollars. Is Scott’s ‘solution’ really worth ten dollars?
“Is it, though? What are ten bucks to sacrifice for maturity?”
If he puts it that way… What are ten bucks to floor and humiliate Kyle, Stan, and Kenny? It might as well be a pretty cheap price for all three of them, actually. Although, there is still a problem…
“But I don’t have ten bucks with me”.
"In that case, meet me behind the school at 7 P.M.". Scott tells him as he stands on his feet. "I'm sure you'll have the money by then". Eric notices the other two boys from before are a few feet away from them, most likely waiting for Scott. The redhead gathers his almost forgotten skateboard, before walking up to them and leaving Eric on the steps, alone with his thoughts.
Funny, he seems to be walking just fine, for someone who is supposed to have a conveniently unspecified ‘leg injury’...
It makes Eric wonder just how trustworthy Scott is…
Maybe he shouldn’t go meet him. But Eric’s mind keeps summoning the image of Kyle’s wide-open mouth and his bulging, rat-like Jew eyes and he can’t help himself. It’s just going to be so sweet when all three of them become embarrassed as they realize what a mature friend they have…
Eric is not going to come out of the fucking house unless he finds ten bucks.
There wasn’t any money lying around in the kitchen, nor was there in the living room. Eric resorted to looking in Mom’s room. He found maybe a couple of hundred dollars in one of her drawers. Getting only ten was difficult, but he managed. And either way, now that he knows where Mom is hiding the spare money, he can just ‘borrow’ some whenever he wants.
He arrives at the school five minutes earlier than seven. He’s way too impatient to meet Scott. He just needs to know what this solution that will solve all of his problems is.
When he does arrive at their meeting spot, Scott isn’t there yet. It makes Eric angry, because he thinks that he might go insane if he has to wait a minute longer, so he uses that pent-up tension to pace up and down continuously while he waits.
He’s ready to leave, until he finally sees the infamous redhead. It might only be four minutes after seven, but the waiting felt like it was transpiring for four years.
“I’m guessing you found the money, after all”. Scott tells him as he approaches.
“Yeah, yeah. But what did you bring me?”
“Pubes”. He answers with a completely straight face.
“…What?” Eric looks at him with a perplexed, disbelieving expression. It looks like this is just a waste of time.
“Do you know what they are?”
The question’s sole accomplishment is to further irritate him. “Of course I know what they are! What do you think I am, stupid?” Eric has a somewhat blurry idea in his head that grown men have these hairs called pubes in their crotch area – or so Mom has said – but he doesn’t know much else besides that. And the rest of the knowledge – if there is any at all – is probably not necessary anyway. Eric knows all that needs to be known.
“Then you’ll know that only grown-ups have pubes. And you want to be a grown-up, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do”.
Scott delves his hand inside his pocket, revealing a small, transparent bag that contains a handful of unkempt, dark hairs. “So, here. I’ll sell you my pubes for only ten bucks”.
The grade-schooler eyes the bag presented in front of him with a scrutinizing gaze. The hairs don't look all that important at first glance. In fact, they seem kind of gross. Are they the feature that separates him from manhood and maturity?
“And you say that if I get these from you I’m gonna be mature?”
“Sure thing. Your friends are definitely gonna see how far ahead from them you are”.
That's exactly what Eric wants. It's what he wants more than anything (well, besides being a millionaire); these assholes recognizing him for the genius, for the exceptional person that he truly is. And if what Scott says is true – which it is, why wouldn't it be? – after this those dicks are gonna bow down to him.
“Alright, then. Here”. He collects the ten dollars from his jacket and passes them on to the teen’s pale palm.
“They’re all yours”. Scott tells him as he lets him hold the small bag.
Eric speculates the sight in front of him, holding the hairs close to his face. They’re shorter than the hairs on one’s head, and a bit curly at the end. Not very attractive, all in all. But it doesn’t matter. Because now he has pubes and those assholes don’t.
“The guys are gonna be so fucking jealous when I show them tomorrow”. He carefully stores the bag in his pocket before marching proudly towards the exit of the alley at the back of the school. “Thanks, Scott! See ya!”
Definitely worth every last buck…
What a stupid kid…
And that says a lot coming from Scott. He has seen a lot of stupid kids. But this one might be taking the cake. Both fat and stupid. Certainly not a very flattering combination, but one that is quite a bit of fun to play around with.
He could hardly contain his laughter as the kid outstretched his pudgy little hands to take the bag from him. It was nearly impossible to hide a snicker when he brought the pubes close to his face, looking at them as though they were the most precious gems his eyes had ever landed upon. A smile is unavoidable as he looks at the kid run off.
He even thanked him at the end. No one has ever thanked him for making fun of them before.
When it comes to money, ten dollars are obviously akin to bread crumbs, but hey, no one can say it's a bad reward for something that no one would have paid anything for otherwise.
Although, Scott had to make a small alteration to his product first. The kid is a brunette, so red pubic hair would have probably looked weird to him. (Not to mention that its origins would be easier to identify, in the rare event that he tells on Scott.) So, once the tufts of hair were all cut and ready, Scott dipped them inside a bowl of watery black paint. Of course, it didn’t even cross the kid’s mind that they had been tampered with.
He wishes he could see the dumb expression on his fat face when someone with a couple of more brain cells tells him that in a few years from now he'll have his very own pubes anyway. But he has already taken up way too much of Scott's time. He has promised to call Fred and Pat to let them know how they're gonna make fun of that autistic boy in eleventh grade tomorrow.
“What a stupid kid…” Scott repeats, out loud this time, snickering as he shuffles his way towards home.