Deciding on Chinese rather than pizza (for a change), Randall called up the restaurant and placed your order. You meanwhile took another little look at his DVD collection, figuring that you could veg out on the couch and watch a movie while you ate.
"Ooh, ooh! Let's watch My Best Friend's Wedding!" you joked after he'd gotten off the phone, Miss. Card's Julia Roberts collection still taking pride of place on the shelf.
Grimacing at this suggestion, Randall said "Don't even joke about that, dude. Last time Carla was here, she made me sit through the entirety of Pretty Woman. What is it with chicks and all that slushy romance crap?"
"I dunno," you shrugged, continuing your teasing, "You tell me. You've got enough of them still."
"Yeah, yeah. That's just for appearances, Tim. It wouldn't exactly look right if it was all just Star Wars and superhero movies now would it? Christ, you should have seen the looks I got already from the 'besties' when they spotted Sin City in my collection."
"I can imagine," you chuckled, picturing both Miss. Wells and Miss. Esposita's reaction to a movie all about guns, **** and ninja hookers.
Thumbing quickly then through what was clearly his own purchases, you pulled one out and held it up for your friend's approval. "How about Tropic Thunder? I haven't seen that for a while, and I could go for a big dumb comedy right about now."
"Sure, why not? Food'll probably not arrive for another twenty or so minutes though, so why don't have a game of something till then."
"Just so long as it's not COD." you told him, having had enough of that one for one day.
As predicted, Randall's face immediately broke into a smirk. "Oh, and why's that?" he prodded, playing it up. "Getting a little sick of me utterly annihilating your score, huh? Heh-heh." Thankfully his gloating didn't last too long (well, at least not longer than it usually did). "No problem. I got a few new games I haven't really played at the bottom there," he said, pointing them out, "why don't we stick one of those on?"
Moving your gaze downwards to the lower shelf where you'd noticed they were kept the last time you were here, you spotted a few of interest and pulled one out. "I see you got the new Tomb Raider. I was kind of wondering about getting that myself, but I wasn't sure if it'd be any good or not."
"Well there's only one way to find out, Timmy-boy. Fire it on!"
Doing just that then, the two of you sat down and for the first time in years re-amerced yourselves in the world of Lara Croft. Not that it was quite the world you remembered though, being way darker, far more realistic and gritty, and distinctly lacking something you'd come to expect from a Tomb Raider game. Funnily enough, the both of you spotted this pretty much at the exact same time, asking almost in unison as you watched the opening cut scene "What the hell happened to her boobs?" - this new Lara no longer being as blessed as she once was.
"I can't believe they de-boobed Lara. That's sacrilege!" you said after the cinematic had ended, rotating the camera around this now decidedly less voluptuous computer sprite.
"I know!" Randall agreed, shaking his head. "That's like taking away Mario's plumbers cap or Solid Snake's eye patch. What the hell were they thinking? Those boobs were her best part!" It was funny hearing him say this, seeing as arguably his own boobs were now his best part (though it was an extremely close call). They were also 100% real, not just a collection of tiny little pixels. It did made you chuckle though, bringing a humorous thought to your attention as your eyes wandered over his own mammoth mounds.
"Heh. Maybe there just wasn't enough boob to go around...what with you stealing it all!"
Laughing along with you as he too glanced down at his chest, Randall couldn't help but agree. "Yeah, sometimes it does feel like that," he said, pulling slightly at the already overstretched neck hole of his t-shirt to get a better look, "These tits are absorbing all other tits in their path, making them huge! I even had to order some new bras the other day - Online as well, cause you can't seem to get ones in my size in stores." You could hardly doubt that, recalling how gigantic that pink bra had seemed in your hands the night you sneaked into his room when you couldn't sleep. If every store sold bras that big, they're be no material left make anything else with! "I'm having to get them sent over from England. Double H's if you can believe that."
Hearing this practically floored you, and a single word escaped your lips. "Jesus..."
"I know! They cost a fortune too. But I really need them now," Randall continued, sounding slightly irked by it all as a hand absentmindedly cupped one of his breasts. "My boobs weigh a ton and they are literally exploding out of Miss. Card's old bras." You couldn't quite believe this was the same guy who's obsession with tits dwarfed even yours, and who if you'd told him one day that he'd actually have his hands on a pair of HH's, he probably would have exploded. Not now though, now he seemed to have this weird sort of love-hate relationship with the things, and he really didn't like the idea that they were growing. Not one bit. Not that you could in any way empathize though, having no idea what carrying those huge things around on your chest would be like all day. All you knew was they were big and they were awesome and you wanted to see them as much and as often as you could.
You didn't say this however, but instead tried to lighten the mood and make Randall feel a bit better about his added weights. "Screw Angelina Jolie though, dude," you smiled, "They definitely chose the wrong chick to play Lara in all those crappy movies!"
"Too true. I would make a great Lara Croft," he agreed, your comment playing up to his ego (having always fancied himself as something of an action star). "I've certainly got the chest for it, plus I'm pretty freaking flexible these days. I'm sure with a bit of practice I could easily do one of those backwards somersault things."
"That I'd definitely like to see. Though you'd probably knock yourself out with those things half way through the air. Ha ha!"
Laughing at this and indicating that it was probably true, you were both then suddenly interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing, you food presumably having just arrived.
"Sweet. Food's here!" Randall enthusiastically declared as he hopped off the couch and quickly made his way towards the door. A minute or two later, he returned carrying a big bag of goodies which he laid down on the coffee table and proceeded to lay out.
"What's the damage?" you asked, feeling that you should probably contribute in some way - having up till now let your friend foot the bill for everything.
Randall declined your offer however, telling you that it was cool and reminding you that he was the one with a job now, as well as a steady supply of checks from the hospital. This was true, Randall was now raking in serious bucks. Though a part of you did wonder just how long those checks would last. "Anyway, you won't be able to afford to buy dinner until I start paying you for doing work around here," he said with a chuckle, "And you haven't actually done anything yet!"
"And who's fault is that?" you quickly countered, last weekend having supposed to have been when you started...but that of course not quite panning out the way either of you planned.
Accepting the blame, and telling you that the yard work and stuff was just gonna have to wait once more, he finished unpacking all the various little take away boxes, surprising even himself with just how much he'd ordered.
"You probably should have shaken your money maker a little or something when you answered the door. That way you might have at least gotten a discount."
"Oh believe me, Tim," he told you, with complete and utter confidence, "if I had, I totally could have gotten the whole lot for free. That delivery guy couldn't keep his eyes off me!"
He's not the only one... you thought, not doubting it for a second, Miss. Card's body having a mesmerizing quality that few men could actually resist.
"Anyway, I'm gonna grab a couple of soda's. Why don't you be a good boy and shut off Lara McNoBoobs and stick the movie on."
Grinning at him and giving an obedient little salute, you replied "Yes Miss. Whatever you say Miss." causing Randall to shake his head and laugh, before walking off towards the kitchen.
About twenty or so minutes later, you were both back again on the couch, chuckling away at the movie while you chowed down on your meal. Though you'd both seen it many times before (it being one of your favorites), you'd been so stressed out lately with everything that had happened that it was good to just sit back and relax and watch it again with your best friend for company - even though by now you could pretty much recite all the funny bits line for line before they even happened. At one point Randall had even offered you a beer or some wine to accompany it, seeing as your hangover was now all but gone, but you declined, still having the memory - if not the actual taste - of last nights overindulging. "Maybe tomorrow or something, dude. I don't think I could face another beer right now."
"No worries. Not everyone can have my level of tolerance to **** I suppose."
"Yeah right!" you snorted, Randall being a way worse drunk than you were (as had been proved many, many times before).
"Anyway, I really need a slash," he bluntly informed you, getting up from his chair and giving his legs a little stretch, "Be back in a min."
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