Chicken Payback // [Esau/Io]

pay the chicken back back
pay the chicken back
pay back the chicken back
do the chicken
p a y b a c k

"I'll meet you at eight she said. Just wait for me by the abandoned factory she said —" My voice is a high-pitched SHRIEK against the dusk air as my mouth stretches with each word into something that might be mistaken for a snarl if ever anyone could take my face seriously. Some might declare the flailing punctuation of my arms excessive — wankers — but those people probably haven't been waiting around in the cold for the past hour. (And by standing I mean: Jumping jacks. Jogging in place. Luuuuunges. Strip tease... without the fun of actually stripping BECAUSE IT'S TOO FRIGGIN COLD OUT, IO WIE-WIE.) "— It'll be fucking fun she said." Okay, I added the part about fucking. I usually do. Sue me.

My fists of RAAAAAAGE punch the air ahead of me possibly because my fingers are frozen solid and won't uncurl, my gas mask tethered to my right hand and swinging around like I'm a Tribute with a freaking morningstar. If this is a display of my battle skills, I'm either wrecking havoc like a badass or I'm about to die a gruesome death. The hunk of plastic jerks back to smack me across the face, as if giving its two cents on cue, and I spend the next three minutes bitch-slapping it with my free hand in petty revenge. "Take that, ya' sister-groping bastard! And that! And tha-a-a-at!" My head lolls back as the syllables stutter out my throat, hips jutting forward as if — "Oh, yeah. Yeahhhh. You like that don't you? Hit me harder, Esau!" My voice is back to the high-pitched screech I've dubbed The Wie-Wie Voice and my own maniacal cackle quickly chases it into the descending night.

By the time I reach Io's house, I'm as revved up as a twelve-year-old who's just discovered porn for the first time, arms spread out airplane-wide as I run in victory circles across their lawn with a siren-mouthed wail of "WIE-OH WIE-OH WIIIIIIIE-OH" until I'm dizzy enough to puke. ("Don't wake Europa she said. Be quiet she said. You'll just get me in more trouble she said... Well, your sister's kind of a fun-sucking twat, I say.") Gagging on the empty air, I stumble over to Io's window and start tap-tap-t-t-t-tapping on the glass. Usually I would improvise a song for her, maybe a sweet little lullaby or a nice little ditty for her to get down-and-dirty to in — disappointed, I am always sooooo disappointed — hopes that I'm interrupting something.

I go: Tap-tap-tap-tap. "Wie-Wie! Hey!" My voice is doing that weird thing where I'm trying to whisper and yell at the same time and instead just wind up sounding like I have a terminal case of lung disease. Tap-ta-tap-ta-ta-ta-tap. "Open up! It's meeeeeeeee!" I have to take a moment to attempt to cough my lungs out because I'm not so good at handling the way my vocal chords are grinding against themselves like a two dollar hooker, but then I'm right back on it: Tap-tap-tap... TAP-TA-TA-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-WHERE-THE-HELL-ARE-YOU-IO-WIE-OH-TAP! Finally a hint of a shadow moves on the other side of the window and I promptly splat my face into the glass in greeting, smushing my cheek back-and-forth so I look as grotesquely repulsive as possible before pulling back just far enough so I can lick the glass. "Nyahhhhhh-ha-ha-ha!" It's not until I'm certain she's seen me (and my big, soggy dog-tongue), until I'm abso-fricking-lutely positive she's about to open the window, that I realize with total horror that my tongue is stuck to the glass. Balls.

pay the piggy back back
pay the piggy back
pay back the piggy back
do the piggy
p a y b a c k