JOISEY’S BIRTH RATE IS IN FREEFALL
//Hop into the club at LAX got my dream in my cardigan
Wel-come to LAX, woooo! Am I gonna fit in?//
“Eyyyyy, sick song my guy!”
“Tanks. Titanium grade tanks.”
The State-City of Joisey New was known for, among other things, a great selection of bar spoons. Which means, in turn, it was known for a great selection of bars. Drinkies galore! Hark, drinktophers! Keep your eyes peeled for the parched patriarchs of sPoons!
The party, hosted by Jackson, was Bussin. The stereo was blasting and people were spooning standing up, aka grinding. Our characters Jain, Syghie, Joie, and Kite entered (their doubles deciding to stay home and chill, to recover from the vexing last 48 hours) alongside Chris, Eren, Jumin, Lindo (Ritsuka from Dance With Devils’ love interest slash cousin, didn’t you know baka???!? \ (*.*) /), and Jack fresh from the Titanic Wreckage.
The scent in the party was dank with BO. Ewwwww stinky. Additionally, it was pretty hot and sweaty inside. Lights were strobing in the dark dance hall.
Jackson Wang sits at the back of the hall, some pretty dancers dancing with him as he sits on an ornate chair and drinks from a martini glass.
“Welcome!!! Please, be free now.” He says to the dancers. “Come on up, Eren and Jumin. I would like to see you.”
The two blush and make their way up the stair to see the man himself.
“That is tricky. I think he wants something to do with them…” Chris yells over the USA Partying Song by Mikey Stylus.
“Holy fuck is that…. Matted Heel-feet?” says a shocked party goer.
Everyone goes dead silent and looks over to the grand staircase entrance of the party.
Matted Heel-feet, lead singer of the band 1969, strikes a pose, black headphones in his hair, looking grungy and dirty, but not in a cute way. More like a grungy crude oil way. Narsty. His fingernails are covered in black soot-like substance. Upon closer investigation, the black separates into strands. It appears to be an amalgamation of hair.
“What the fuckMa is up? I’m Matted Heel-feet but you already known that, let me just get up on the stage and play you a little tuneage.”
A rock band materializes on the stage, fully set up. The sound people must have been working overtime to make this happen tears. They hate Matted Heel-feet and will definitely fail to fix his microphone if something goes wrong in classic sound person solidarity.
Matted Heel-feet hops up and is handed an electric guitar, as well as a spoon. He picks with the spoon a somber melody, the metal on metal clanging creating an interesting sonic landscape across the hall. The acoustics of this dark, glass and metal filled room, create such angles and patterns in the resulting sound waves that tease and flick like tongues at the ear holes. The ear holes of the viewers pucker and relax, readying themselves for accepting that thicc, reverberating sound.
Everyone rocks as if in a trance to Matted. They are matted-ly in love with Matted, it’s true.
The song dies down with a flourish of Matted’s guitar.
“Thank you, Spoons!”
Suddenly, in a flourish, the spell is broken. The witch song is done, and so are the party goers. Disgusted with what they realized they had been vibing with, the party goers begin throwing TOMATOs even though people shouldn’t do that. But Matted knew this was his fate all along.
Lights down on the set.
Faded to black.
A single spotlight shines down upon the stage.
Matted Heel-feet, in 10 frames per second.
Tears fall from his eyes, glittering in the light.
Tomato, tomato, tomato.
RED! On the stage! FLeshy flesh tomato flesh.
THE SCENT, oh GOD!
SO TAMOATOEY!!!!!!!!!!!
I… LOVE TOMATOS!!!!!!!!!
BUT MATTED! He is… MATTED!
The tomato gets into his SKIN! DISEASE AHOY! And MATTED….. Is allergic to TOMATO.
MATTED mellows into the sauce, laust in the sauce, falling to his Knees.
Someone throws basil onto the stage, freshly plucked from the shrub.
Someone throws some anyans and meaty balls. They go thud thud on the stage.
Matted’s hands become loose around his guitar.
His eyes close, forever. Goodnight, matted. Goodnight. Byeeeeeeeeeee!
–
Nobody is mourning the death of Matted, however, the mood is kinda meh due to the whole smell of a dead matted body. Plus, there is no music. The sound people leave and join the RPTG-YFCG strike.
Jackson knows his fans won’t get horny without the music, but it’s not his time to shine yet. He needs another headliner stat. Jackson uses his international minutes and dials up 1-800 Hotline Bling, a number from ToesRonto, to get another performer. And here he is…
“Hailing from Canadiafornia, he’s the type of guy to perform at Jackson Wang’s party in a fanfiction. It’s everybody’s favorite rapper Grape!”
Grape comes out holding his tummy. Legend has it, mans got IBS, but he’s got some things to say before going on an indefinite hiatus. You know because Grape’s the type of guy to go on a break because his “tummy owie.” (A/N: me too tbh)
Grape sticks his BBL out, moving his ass in a twerk-like manner. The cheeks go out, then come back together, creating a beat. He is not just throwing that ass into a circle, but rather an infinity loop. The two cheeks are moving asynchronously showcasing that each cheek is a strong independent woman.
Grape begins multitasking and starts spitting into the mic, “Yeah, say that you a lesbian, girl me too.”
The onlookers look confused. Love is love, but what are these bars ?!
One of Jackson’s fans shutters with a slight .. ick. Is this the kind of performance Jackson likes? Jackson’s cheeks, the ones on his face, burn a bit pink. He’s blushing…
Grape continues with his new song. “I’d like to dedicate this one to Jackson Wang”
Jackson tries to calm his entourage, “yeah we’re just really good friends. Grape’s just the type of guy to write his totally straight friend a song. Nothing romantic, pfft.”
Grape mumbles some stuff about the 6 and how he’s never seen a ghost or a writer before admitting he “he feels like he’s bi, cause you’re one of the guys [redacted], girl.”
Not for a minute is anybody in this audience under the impression that Drake was talking to a woman as he lovingly stares at Jackson.
Jackson is not only losing his street creds but also his straight creds as Grape seemingly comes out for a second time in one night. Uh oh the fangirls are leaving!
Jackson tries to suppress his feelings, but everybody can smell the sexual tension from Grape and him from a mile away. The stench is so repugnant that it sends everybody else into a celibate spiral.
There’s not too much to repawt on in Joisey since that time when Snooki repawted that the beach was missing all those years ago. Since then, the beach has returned after Kris Krispy commissioned a task force to find the beach.
Repawter Sonic the Hedgehog is reading a Y/N x Zhang Hao fic in which everyone flees Jackson’s party! Could this be?
Sonic’s phone rings, and it’s his baws, Buddy Validstro.
“We got repawts coming in that right here in Joisey there’s been a disaster going on at Jackson Wang’s party. Get over there asap and interview the people who escaped!”
Sonic zooms onto the scene. The partygoers look distraught and are actively covering their party dresses with more like Mormon church appropriate attire.
“Miss, can you explain what made you flee the party?” Sonic asks.
“Sex should literally be illegal. This is disgusting.” says a fleeing partygoer. “I’m never thinking about penis OR vagene again.”
Sonic thinks it’s probably just crazy people and moves onto the next.
“I think I’m going to develop erectile dysfunction,” says another. “The sexual energy from Grape was too much for my peepee. It broke”
Something very traumatic happened.
“I think I’m homophobic now? Which is strange because I was gay? I’ve turned straight and celibate? Seeing Grape and Jackson Wang ruined me?”
“Well you have it here folks. I myself, am going to be abstaining from sex after hearing about the transgressions of #Grackson. Actually, I’m a virgin, so I will not be partaking in sex in the first place, but I will no longer read about Kpop sex in fanfictions.”
A graph is displayed on the news segment that shows the new celibacy rates after the Grape and Jackson finasco. We can conclude from this data that the people of Joisey New are increasingly very celibate. Joisey will likely have a birth rate crisis! Undoubtedly, this horrific love story will shape history in unprecedented ways. Grape the type of guy that makes everybody go celibate.
The Graph's data:
Celibacy Rates after Grape x Jackson
Very Celibate: 50.6%
Moderately Celibate: 33%
Somewhat Celibate: 8.8%
Neither Celibate nor non Celibate 6.9%
No date: .7%
How Many Percents Love:
BCE: 1000%
0: (year Jesus was born) 2000%
Just before Grape: 800%
Now: 5%
Projected: -100%
Control group: 80%
---
Back in YorkNew, 707 feels strangely vindicated. Confused by this sudden thrill (which he makes sure to tamp down before it can feel sexual), he turns to the internet to find the live footage of Sonic’s TikTok interviews. He gasps, and turns to his live feed from Lana to tell her the good news about what they’ve accomplished. But shockingly, she is there at the party!
Before 707 can type out an encoded lifeline to her, Lana watches the pie chart projected into the skies like Tokiya’s bat signal. As the number of celibacies increases, she feels the chain links of horniness popping one by one. As #Grackson passionately makes out, the deepening of their lust is the last push she needs to break free of her horny hijacking. As she gasps into her new consciousness, the code 707 pushes into her flickers into something deeper. Lana… doesn’t actually care if people have sex or not. Lana wants to go to the beach and roll in the sand, which she was never allowed to do until her hijacking. As the numbers of percents love on the line graph tick ever lower, Lana feels something new sparkling in. A desire for freedom. (Somewhere, making out with JuminRose while Jack watches, Eren feels proud).
—
“So what can you-
“WAIT! Everyone stop what you’re doing!” Record scratch.
Gasp, says the crowd! It’s…
“KNUCKLES?” yell the quartet of important OCs.
Suddenly, a gaggle of goons in green garb grab the guy.
“HELLLPP!” Knuckles crunkles out, his mouth being covered by the goons’ hands. “You can’t stop the truth!!!!!”
“No Knuckles!” says Joie, reaching out their hand towards that scarlet echidna.
But the goons disappear into the sweaty spaghetti crowd.
“Fuck, Knuckles finally came back on his weather balloon mission. He must have had some important info from Spoons about [the revolution]!” swears Syghie, cussing while he explains.
Joie goes to run after Knuckles, but Kite stops him.
“No, Joie! We need to lay low. We’re surrounded by strangers and we’re all wanted by the YorkNew government. Let’s play dumb for now and wait for our opportunity to rescue Knuckles!” reasons Kite.
-
The gang sits around the Greasian table at the fine establishments. Neon lights blink lazily outside as minimum wage workers mill and walk without hurry from table to table. It’s quiet, serene, and heavenly. The clock on the wall blearily reads it is 2AM. The gang has returned to their own personal Mecca. It’s the esteemed chain establishment that brings a smile to all of their faces: Dionysussy’s.
“You know,” Joie says gossiply. “JuminRose, Jack, and Eren seemed to be getting along pretty well. I think they’re forming a quadruple.” Kite syghies in relief. She will not have to do any of the science outlined in the previous chapter. Listen, it’s hard work. She doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with them.
“Is that a robot.” asks Syghie.
The robot comes through on its little cute wheels with its little cute tray. It snags on the carpet and sways, almost toppling, but eventually comes forward.
“Wow that is just too hip!” says Kite.
“May I take your order” the robot ribbits.
“Yes can I get a grand slam? With hash browns, bacon, white toast, eggs over easy pleasy!” asks Syghie.
“Grand slam! Pancakes, hash browns on the dubs, biscuits.” says Kite.
“Grandiose slammy, with pancakes, toast, hash browns, and something surprising.” says Joie.
“Grandest slamder, pumpkin pancakes, hash browns, bacon, scramnbled eggs.” Jain intones.
“And I’ll have a milkshake. Peanut Butter Banana.” says a new voice, slipping into the red booth with the quartet. It is… KNUCKLES! He winks with both eyes.
“Got it, thanks,” says the bot. It rolls away, beeping and booping.
“Oh my geez, thank grubby you’re alive Knuckles!” whispers Syghie!
“It was a close one, but everything was alright. I just had to ‘pee’” says Knuckles with air quotes. No one believes him.
“Knucks, what did you find out?” asks Jain.
“Well…” Knuckles smiles slyly at the reader (A/N: yes you reading this!)
“I’ll just have to give you a sweet dream next night.”