the dumbest vine I've ever seen in my life produces the dumbest fic

[scubatankfilledwithfarts]

Based off of: this ,
this and a lot of Avril Lavinge

Badou isn't sure when or who showed Renji memes or-- the internet [aside from 1 man 1 Jar, which Badou showed him probably the second week they began this weird friendship] but whoever it is can expect the info broker's foot up their ass.

"Open the door, man."

"My ass is hangin' out-- do you know what time it is?!"

"I don't care, open up! When isn't your ass out...."

He also doesn't know why he himself is dumb enough to open the door. As expected, Renji has hefted a full sized trash can up the stairs and chucks it at Badou the moment the door swings open, screaming:

"I'M THE TRASHMAN, BITCH!"

Does Badou pass out or does he only dream grabbing the Soul Reaper in a headlock in order to smother him in his armpit for ten minutes? This is unknown. After he makes his buddy pick up every piece of trash scattered about his floor [why the fuck hadn't he emptied it?? why don't they teach that in Soul Reaper school???], they get down to business.

"No, I'm not doin' a goddamn Home Movie for your Soul Society. Don't they got enough souls crammed up their assholes?"

He's not going to even begin with the 'gingers are soulless' thing. Renji doesn't let him combat this argument. He paces around like a little peacock, hands on his hips as though the severity springloaded behind his tatt'd eyebrows will move Badou.

"You're real fixated, you know that? You got a thing for Soul Reapers? And asses? I can't help you, I'm spoken for. But if you help me report back to 'em, you'll get closure. Maybe."

Instead of waiting for Badou to fizzle into a fit, all red faced and furniture [his own] smashing, Renji yanks something from his pocket. A tiny baggie filled with--

"Is that ghost weed? Is that what this is about? Why'd you start like we were makin' a Soul Remix porno? This is why you got no tact and you can't move seats--"

To once again speak for the maturity that Renji has attained over many, many, many years of probably ironing Byakuya Kuchiki's scarves, he shakes the little bag and only gets a little angry-purple in the face.

"It's a challenge. To all Soul Reapers-- this is called the Carolina Reaper Pepper. It's the hottest pepper or something-- I hear it might even help boost Bankai. So I wanna test it out, and since you're here you can help."

This is the dumbest thing Badou's ever heard.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." But: "Let me get some stuff. Your shitty 2003 flip phone's got video right?"

And that's how the two of them find themselves squeezed on Badou's couch with two glasses of milk, four water bottles and Renji's camera set up on the scorched coffee table. That ever present, cocky grin lines Renji's face as he pops a peace sign up at the camera, elbowing his companion with that ashy other elbow of his.

"Lieutenant Abarai reporting! The difference between the power of someone with a Bankai and a regular soul-- we know what it is, but are there ways to keep upping our stakes?"

"Upping our stakes...who says that? You can really tell ya'll are old men."

Badou gets the other end of that elbow in the form of Renji's fist.

"SHUT THE HELL UP, THIS IS AN OFFICIAL REPORT-- ah-- My humble apologies! I'll conduct the test now."

Dull stare [Badou], and shiteating-grin [Renji] on full blast, the two gingers bite into the dried peppers.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The science division has reviewed the video for as many jizz tentacles as Mayuri possesses. They still don't get it.

Thus the next viewing has included parts of the 11th squad and a smattering of Captains and Vice Captains who probably matter.

On screen, both redheads begin to scream in a frenzy, bouncing and wiggling atop the couch cushions, water immediately guzzled into their mouths. While the human does not appear to breathe fire from the encounter, nor from his mouth or testicles, as he claims, his face is red, there are tears in his single eye, and half the water goes in a snap.

Lieutenant Abarai is seized by agony, his screams gaining a fevered pitch. The video is jostled and a moment later when it pans back to him, he's leaned over, hair in his face while he begins to drool onto the carpet.

"DON'T DO THAT THERE-- THEY KNOW I DON'T GOT A DOG how the hell am I supposed to pay for this?!"

The human is extremely concerned...about the carpet. He rolls his eye and fans Abarai with a nearby magazine, however it doesn't seem to help. While the occasional screech rises, the man is comatose, gagging and slapping the couch cushions every once in awhile. Desperate hands pour the glass of milk over his head.

No, that sound, like a dying animal and a crying girl weeping over that animal, is not a dead animal. It is Lieutenant Abarai, who has to be led to the human's room to rest. The human soul can be heard muttering,

"This is not good, this is not fucking good-- the landlady is gonna think I'm doing some Satanic orgy ritual and didn't invite her."

The next scene that plays out is Abarai, splayed across the bed, red hair hanging in his face, brow sweaty. He labors through the effects of the pepper, and an oxygen mask is settled across his nose while be breathes shallowly.

The human looks straight into the camera and deadpans:

"This is the next level of Bankai, huh."

When the video shuts off, silence reigns in the room of soul reapers, warriors and nerds alike. Only one question remains.

"Do all humans just have oxygen tanks lying around? Is that normal?"