Coming Around

A hand slammed the table. "ONE. Just tell me ONE!"

"I told you already, MAN. Star Trek." Another hand, a leg. "And it's not even close!"

"But is it still relevant to-DAY? Did it cause ripples?"

"Bro, it's like the godfather of fandom. What is 'ripples'? What is 'ripples' supposed to mean?"

"Deny it all you want. Buffy's influence on modern-day pop culture is practically omniscient."

The young man rolled his eyes, sticking a phone over his face as he began to do what anyone today would do when crossed with a cellular tool: tap away. "Can it."

"Carl, just because it killed off your favorite character, that doesn't mean you have to hold a vendetta. Seize the day. Smell the roses. And accept that Buffy is still one of the most transformative shows on the turn of the century. It is what it is. And I wasn't even that big on it until the second half of season two--"

"Ahem."

The sound of creaking chairs followed, and next, the squeak of shoe bottoms.

"Ohoho, Allison?" Jason stood to his feet as three figures approached the porch. His eyes instantly darted down. "What a perfect coincidence! I mean," he scratched the corner of a lip, "you do know what day it is, right?"

"Duh," scoffed the blond. Natalie and Allison looked at each other, then back at the two guys. They sure looked expectant.

Promptly, the two, once situated on the foundation, turned in place and leaned forward, presenting their meaty rears. Genial smiles equipped, all things considered, Carl and Jason stepped forward, picking a girl. Then they drummed their palms against their cheeks, the latter even taking the opportunity to feel up Natalie's thick, tight bottom like there was no tomorrow in sight.

"Man!" Carl relished the moment. "So big!" Slap! "So effing jiggly!" Something seemed to come out of Natalie's mouth, but it was drowned in the sound of Carl's palm against her ass.

"You could say that again," nodded Jason, pawing at the underside of Allison's butt cheeks, causing them to shake through the power of the natural sciences.

"Your ass has grown on a perfect trajectory of biggeth-making since freshman year, Nat." Carl laid down one last smack before pulling back. A hand went down to adjust the inner space behind the crotch of his knee-length jorts, as he coughed into a fist. "Never gets old going at it on the holidays."

"Yeah, I know," Nat rubbed her butt with a slight wince. "At least you got the day right this time." With a slightly solemn undertone below her typical cheer, she added, "Remember last year?"

Chortling, Jason pulled back from Allison after offering the cheerleader's presented butt one final, violent pinch through the fabric of her skirt. Enough to shake the girl's entire body before he let go. "I still think they should've turned that one into 'Kick Carl in the Ass!' day just by virtue of the ass kicking you gave him. No one in the lobby knew if they should laugh or gasp in disgust."

"I had a long week! We all make mistakes, okay! You get Friday mixed up with Saturday and vice versa and sometimes you forget!" A dejected looking Carl shuffled back to his chair as the three responded with the dismissive likes of 'whatever', 'if you say so,' 'still creepy'. He mumbled to himself as turned his attention to elegiacally stirring his tea with a spoon. "Sometimes you forget."

I took this chance to step through Nat and Allison, still kind of recovering from what I had just witnessed. But hey, as Owner of the World, I had an obligation to keep up appearances. Just let me put this boner away.

"John the man with a plan!" Jason smiled as I went in for a handshake semi-hug. After him was Carl with the fake-out dog pound before making genuine, bro-hood contact.

Jason looked up from his watch, "So it's kind of early to be trotting around. But if you want, you can chill inside."

"Oh, we're just passing by," Nat clarified, finally withdrawing her hand from her somewhat sore backside. "Saying wassup before we drop off Allison here." An exaggerated thumb pointed to the ever pretty blonde at her side.

"Come on, Allison." Carl set the cup to his lips. "You should come with."

Allison offered an actually apologetic smile. "Sorry, got a date."

The gang murmured out their wry understanding. Allison was always too cool for school, anyway. Even if she was cool enough to hang out with us, on occasion. Though mostly Nat. But pretty much everybody liked Nat.

As we began to disassemble, Carl called out to me. "Wait up. John, you gotta settle this." He looked at Jason, whose narrowed eyes were saying, 'I dare you.' And so, Carl returned to face me. "What was more influential on fandom culture as we know it today? Star Trek, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer?"

I blinked. "You know none of us grew up with those, right?"

Jason and Carl gave each other another exchange of eye-words. "Yeah," shrugged the former, "but you can still, like, watch them, man. It's not like missing out on the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius."

Carl agreed. "You can still talk about them. I mean, what would be the whole point otherwise?"

I slapped my proverbial forehead with a proverbial hand. They were right. I didn't know what elicited that response, since I did the same exact thing. Regularly. So, after giving it some thought, I dug my lip into a cheek, and concluded, "I... don't know, they're both the right answer, I guess."

Carl and Jason groaned, and called my answer a copout. Rightfully. But really, I couldn't decide. Not then and there. Taking off, I cheekily told them to save us a parking space and joined Nat and Allison in the car, the latter of which chiming in with an inquiry about the 'hold-up'.

"I don't know," our bodies gently shook as Nat kicked the car into motion, "but you can give me your panties first, and ask questions later!" I sat back, buckling up with a mischievous glint in my eye.

Allison just rolled her eyes. "I told you already; I don't have any panties on!" The blonde let out a cadent, impassioned breath as, unbuckling her belt, she lifted her butt off the seat and proceeded to flip her skirt up, flashing me her bare, beautifully round, pantie-less cheerleader ass.

Click! went the seatbelt receiver, as I stared, loins below warming at the scenic, skinful offering the teen was candidly providing before me.

Shoot. That's right.

Keep forgetting that.