18 - Full House

Dear Chat Reader,

How have you been?

I guess it's been a long time since we last talked to each other, huh?

You know, it almost seems like it was only yesterday that I posted the previous chapter.

Well, anyway, the club is shaping up nicely. We still don't have an official name, and we're still not sure what we actually do, but we have five members now!

I smugly bragged about that to Jessica the other day, and laughed in her face that she can't shut us down anymore, but she just smiled and told me that she never cared about us having five members, because we weren't a real club in the first place. (Total surprise to me, by the way. It's the first time I'm hearing about it.) … Then she told me to kindly get my dirty mud-stained boots off the goddess's counter, that I was making a scene, and then banned me from practicing my bagpipes in the Waiting Room ever again.

(She still seems stressed out, for some reason. Dunno what it is. She won't tell me. I'm kinda worried about her. Like, I can't even remember the last time she performed so much as a simple vivisection—sans anesthesia, of course—on me!

Maybe she's bored with me. Reader, do you think she's moved on?? Maybe there's another dipshit protag she's taking out her frustrations on these days. … Sigh.)

Anyway, it's my fault for not keeping in touch with you, Reader—but it's been really busy here.

Ah, speaking of which—let me introduce you to our newest two members!

Sunny and Moeka.

You know, I thought at first they were siblings or something, but I guess not.

Sunny's this aptly-named, obnoxiously cheery dude who never has anything bad to say about anything. I have no idea how old he is, but he's always clad in an all-black traditional Japanese high school gakuran uniform. You know, the kind deliquents wear in anime. But then, he says he's neither Japanese, nor a high-schooler. So, uh—I dunno. Maybe it's cosplay or something. … I don't know what to make of him. (And yes, he wears the cap as well, to complete the look.)

Moeka, also aptly-named, is this little girl who follows Sunny everywhere he goes. She refers to herself exclusively in the third-person, like she's in some kinda slice-of-life CGDCT show. (She seriously needs to get her genre straight. We're purely 'metafictionally-absurd gag comedy' here. There will be no cake-eating on my watch in this club room!) … Well, at least she doesn't have an annoying verbal tic. But if I hear so much as a 'Nyoro~' or 'Pyon~' then I'm kicking her out of the club. I don't care how cute she is.

As for our older members … Well, Alex is still playing video games. Not writing. 'Nuff said.

And Valerie? I mean, at least she doesn't sniff our socks anymore. She says it's too weird, having to look us in the eye every day. I guess this is the first time she's had to put actual faces to her disgusting fetishes, and now she's feeling a new emotion for the first time: shame.

And yes, those two are still constantly bickering and arguing about stupid stuff like an old married couple. Do you even have to ask?

Hmm, what else is there to say? That's about it.

I really miss you, Reader. I still remember the days when it was just the two of us, in an empty black void. Ha ha, remember that time I kicked the diamond chair? That was hilarious.

Sometimes, I wish we could return to the simplicity of those days.

But I understand that, you've got your own life these days, and like I said, I'm always so busy too, running a club that does absolutely nothing.

… Well, it's about time to wrap this up, I guess.

Hey, don't cry, Reader! I have faith we'll see each other again. Maybe our paths will cross in some other corner of the internet. A stray Yo*T*be comment, perhaps. Or maybe I'm that guy on the other team, calling you offensive names from across the map. Or maybe—just maybe—we're looking at the same R***34 render of famous Italian politician T*fa L*ckh*rt together, at the same time.

… Think of me then, okay?

Faithfully Yours,

Odd-kun

President of the Isekai Waiting Club (Temporary Name) (Formerly O.P.P.A.I.)

*

"What the hell are you doing?" Alex asks me, as I seal the letter up in an envelope. "And what's with that stupid, nostalgic look on your face …"

"Oh, just writing a letter," I say, wistfully. "To an old friend."

I kiss the letter and shed a tear, and then, now that the gag is done and over with, I toss the envelope into the trash bin.

Then I sit back down at the club room table.

Finally, this is starting to look like a proper club.

I do a quick scan around the table.

Five people, including me.

Alex and Valerie are going at it again, each one vehemently extolling the strengths of their respective artistic mediums.

(A: "You see, Valerie, a book is like a thought. You should read my prologue, I lay out my aesthetic schema in agonizing detail."

V: "'Agonizing', you say …"

A: "As illustrations embody a visual image, so too does music embody emotion distilled. But literature is a transmutation of pure thought, you see …"

V: "Huh? What's that? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the sound of my newest drawing getting another ten-thousand likes …")

As for our newest members, Moeka is hard at work at her crayon scribbles, like she usually is. I think (?) she's drawing a triceratops. Big brother (not actually) Sunny is sitting there with a dumb, content grin on his face, seemingly delighted by the sheer exhilaration of, um … existing, I guess.

"Do you hate anything, Sunny?"

He gives it some thought, or at least pretends to. "Hmm … I can't think of anything right now, nope!"

"Isekai. You've gotta be sick of the formulaic plots and worlds, right?"

"Ha ha. Nah! I love isekai! The Truck-kun gag in the first episode always makes me laugh. And I love all the new inanimate object MCs they keep coming up with! Man, what a wacky genre."

"Even though you've seen one, you've seen them all?"

"I think familiarity is neat! The author is so considerate, in making sure we're not too confused."

"Ah! So then, you hate being confused. So you do hate something!"

"Oh, no! I love being surprised, too! It's fun when I have no idea what's going on in a story. Very exciting!"

"Ugh … Alright, forget fiction. … Cockroaches. Everyone hates cockroaches."

"I admire their resilience! It's quite a feat, being able to survive a nuclear apocalypse!" He does a polite golf clap, as if applauding the entire roach population.

"Ticks. Defend the concept of ticks. You can't possibly like ticks."

"Oh, ticks are neat! I really respect how tenaciously they latch on to their prey. It's like, hang in there, little tick!"

"Sunny, that's how you get Lyme disease. … Come on, you gotta hate something."

He considers the idea, thinks really hard. "Well … I guess if I had to pick one thing …"

"Yes? … Yes??"

"I suppose I'm not the biggest fan of how many elf characters there are these days."

"Elf … characters?"

"Yeah! They're always in isekai shows, and they're always so smug, and self-righteous. I hate how condescending they are! Their stupid, stoic personalities. Long life this, ancient arcane knowledge that. Always saving the day, acting like they're better than everyone else. I'm sick of watching them already!"

Stunned silence in the club room.

Nobody expected that from Sunny, of all people.

And we all thought that was the end of it, but then he frowns, and says, under his breath, "… If I get reincarnated as the king, I'll make sure there's not a single elf under my rule."

"WHOA WHOA WHOA!!!" The club room erupts in a cacophony of shocked protests. Valerie covers Moeka's ears with her hands.

V: "You can't say stuff like that, Sunny!"

A: "Yeah, that's, uh—that's a little messed up."

Sunny just shrugs, and reverts back to his usual cheery disposition, as if he didn't just say something completely deranged.

Anyway, I tug at my collar, sweating bullets, and quickly steer the conversation in a safer, more inclusive direction.

"S-so, Moeka … We, um … I don't think I've seen any children in Point Parallax before this. How, um—how did you end up in this place?"

Moeka stops coloring, and tilts her head innocently. "Eh? Moeka was sleeping quietly in her bed. But then the bad guys, with bi-iiiig tanks and scary-looking guns, came to our village, and then they—"

"—Nope. Nope nope nope," I say, cutting her off. "We're not going there. Oh my fuc—… This is a complete disaster. For the love of …" I bury my face in my hands and scream.

I turn back to Sunny, desperate to once again resteer and salvage the conversation. "Sunny. How did you die? Truck, right? Just say truck and let's get away from all this controversy. Please say truck."

Sunny laughs good-naturedly and says, "No, silly! They strapped me to a weird-looking chair, and put a metal cap on my head, and turned on the—"

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT that's so much worse than I expected. I—What would you have to do to get the chair—ARRRGGHHH FUCK THIS. You know what? I don't wanna know. Don't tell me anything about your past lives ever again, please. Both of you."

Sunny just smiles at me. Moeka goes back to coloring. I stand up and kick holes in the drywall, except it's not drywall, it's solid concrete, and I shatter my toe again.

*

A few hours pass in the club room. The chaos winds down, and everyone's doing their own thing. It's pretty quiet, overall. I'm standing by the window, looking out at Point Parallax with my hands folded like a space opera villain, watching the other various protags outside going about their day. Among them, the occasional fictional character. An ogre here, a cave troll there. A couple of minotaurs.

I feel a tug on my shirt sleeve. It's Moeka.

"Um … Mr Odd-kun?"

I look down at her. "Oi, kid. That's Odd-oji-san to you. … Or Odd-nii."

Ignoring what I just said, she holds up her crayon drawing. "Mr Odd-kun, can we hang this on the club wall?"

I cross my arms, and pretend I'm in deep thought. "Hmm, yeah I dunno, kid—I'll have to run that by the Central Administrator. She's a real stickler about what happens inside the clubroom, you know. Especially because clubs are real in Point Parallax, and not just something we deluded ourselves into believing exists."

Moeka's lip trembles. "O-oh, o-okay, Mr Odd-kun. M-Moeka understands. Moeka will … throw her drawing away."

"I'm just kidding!" I ruffle her hair. "Come on, kid, I'll find some tape."

She giggles. "Yay!"

As the two of us turn around to begin our quest for tape, who do I see standing in the club room doorway but a familiar ponytail and clipboard combo …

"Ara," says Jessica, trying to smile, but looking noticeably more frazzled than she's ever been, "Odd-kun … Can I talk to you for a minute?"