Kamio looked up from his math book in surprise as the front door opened and Hurricane Akaya blew in. “What?”
“I’ve found religion,” Kirihara repeated, waving a paper. Over his shoulder was his tennis bag and a large knapsack, bulging at the seams.
Kamio eyed him warily, wondering what his boyfriend was up to this time. “You’ve found religion?” he echoed. “You don’t strike me as the religious type, Akaya.”
“Shows what you know,” Akaya retorted indignantly. “I can be very religious when I want to be.”
“What brought on this bout of religiousness?” Kamio asked. He pushed his math book aside – something told him he wouldn’t be able to get back to it until Akaya finished explaining about his newfound faith. “And which religion did you ‘find’?”
“It all started with my Environment class,” Akaya said, plopping himself down on the sofa next to Kamio. “We were studying about global warming and I had to do a report on it.”
Kamio wasn’t in that class that term. “Global warming helped you find religion?”
“Yep,” Akaya said, nodding vigorously. “I was doing research when I stumbled across the great secret of global warming. As a result, I have decided to convert.”
“Pastafanarianism,” Akaya said, wielding his report with a flourish.
Kamio blinked. “Pasta-what?”
“Pastafanarianism,” Akaya repeated patiently. He clasped his hands together. “The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. He who blesses us all with his noodly appendage.”
Kamio blinked again. “Say what?”
“You should get your hearing checked, Akira,” Akaya said, frowning. “I said, I’ve joined the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Creator of the Lasagna of Life, may we be blessed by Rivers of His Sauce, forever and ever, RAmen.”
“You’ve lost it,” Kamio said, shaking his head. “You’ve finally gone over the edge.”
“You’re just upset because you haven’t accepted the FSM into your life,” Akaya said wisely. “Pastafanarianism is a great religion.”
“How on earth did you get to this point from researching global warming?”
“Because of the pirates,” Kirihara told him, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“…..do I even wanna know?”
“Because of the increase of pirates,” Kirihara repeated. “The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster has proof that global warming is directly related to the number of pirates in the world. The more pirates there are, the better it is for global warming. The less pirates there are, the more the temperature rises.”
“Pirates?” If his eyes got any wider, Kamio was sure they were going to fall right out of his skull.
“The Church of FSM believes that all humanity descended from pirates,” Kirihara said reverently. “That humans only share ninety-five percent of apelike traits, but share ninety-nine percent of pirate characteristics. It’s a proven fact.”
“There's proof of this?”
“Oh yes,” Akaya said firmly. “They have a graph, and everything.”
“Life makes so much sense now,” Kirihara raved. “His Noodliness, He who designed the Heaven filled with Beer Volcanoes, is the driving force behind everything we know today. I must help spread the word, and bring more followers unto Him.” With that, he opened his knapsack and threw a wad of balled up fabric at Kamio.
Kamio unfolded it gingerly. It was a t-shirt. It was bright green, and had a bundle of spaghetti noodles, covered with red sauce and containing two large meatballs, staring at him with two googly eyes. At the bottom was printed, ‘May You Be Touched By His Noodly Appendage.’
“I…honestly don’t know what to say,” he finally got out. His upper lip twitched as he valiantly suppressed his urge to laugh.
Kirihara beamed. “I hope you will one day see the light,” he said solemnly. He pulled out a black eye patch and looped the elastic around his head. “As you are my boyfriend, it is my duty to help you Sate the Hunger. As a member of the FSM Church, I have a duty to help stop global warming, and I need your assistance.”
“To do what?” Kamio asked warily, not liking the sudden predatory look in his partner’s eyes.
“It’s a proven fact in Pastafanarianism that more pirates in the world lessons the impact of global warming,” Akaya said, moving closer. “We have a sacred duty to the church to help the effort by breeding more pirates.”
“I hate to point this out to you,” Kamio said, inching backwards. “But we’re both males. We can’t breed, pirates or otherwise.”
“Ah, but the Church of the FSM insists that all efforts to breed pirates will help,” Akaya said with a smirk. “I’m willing to try my best for the church. And besides, technically, you’re capable of partially breeding at least two pirates.”
“Michi and Sachi,” Akaya said, pouncing. Kamio squawked as his boyfriends fingers began exploring all over the familiar terrain. “Once I’ve converted you, they will be converted by default, and the world will have two more pirates in it.”
“I…see..” Kamio said, struggling not to laugh as Kirihara found a ticklish spot. “And if I don’t convert?”
“Then I’ll just have to keep trying to breed pirates the old fashioned way,” Akaya mused thoughtfully. “And actually, that does sound like more of an incentive to keep you out of the Pastafanarianism movement.”
“Mmm…” Kamio found it hard to argue as Kirihara nuzzled behind his ear. “What if I convert anyway?”
“We will continue spreading His word,” Akaya breathed, inching his fingers downwards to play with the waistband of Kamio’s shorts. “And we can wear pirate gear in bed. It might help with the breeding of more pirates. This requires experimentation.”
“Sounds like fun.” Kamio sucked in a breath. “Should we tell Michi and Sachi of our conversion?”
“Of course!” Kirihara suddenly pulled away, and Kamio pouted. Akaya pulled his bag over and pulled out two more t-shirts, one pink, and one yellow. Both had the same design that Kamio’s had.
“How many of those shirts did you buy?” Kamio asked, surprised.
“There were four designs,” Akaya told him. “I bought all four of them for each of us. And the Gospel.”
“That had to be expensive.” Kamio examined the shirt with a skeleton fish wearing an eye patch. “A fish?”
“Descended from pirates, remember? And maybe this will teach my mother to stop asking me to do her shopping for her,” Akaya said, shrugging. “It’s her fault for giving me access to her credit card.”
“And the Gospel?”
Akaya held up a book with the FSM imprinted on the cover. “The Gospel as told by the prophet, Henderson-san,” he said reverently. “He, whom his Noodliness speaks through, has written the Gospel according to Him, and it is good.” He nodded solemnly. “Did you know Heaven has a stripper factory?”
Kamio didn't know how to reply to that.
“Oh no!” Kirihara suddenly dove for the bag. “I've sinned! Blasphemy!”
“How did you do that?”
“It is disrespectful to his Noodliness to preach about Him unless wearing the sacred headdress,” Akaya proclaimed. With that, he pulled a large pirate hat out of the bag, complete with a feather nearly a foot long. “Actually, full pirate regalia is required to teach heathens of his Noodliness, but I'm just telling you about him, not really teaching. I hope He'll forgive me.” Akaya jammed the hat down on his head. With the eye patch firmly in place, his exposed eye twinkling, and wild strands of curly hair spilling out from underneath the wide brim, he did indeed have a rakish, pirate-like air to him.
Kamio laughed. “I have seen the light,” he said with a grin. After all, how could he not follow a movement that had Akaya dressing like a pirate? “Shall we commence with the experimental pirate breeding?”
“Oh boy, oh Chef-Boy-R-Dee!” Akaya whooped, clapping his hands and tossing his pirate hat into the air. “Praise the Flying Spaghetti Monster's might, for we have brought another one onto his Plate of Saucy Goodness! Long may His noodles extend! Hallelujah and RAmen!”
Kamio snickered and made a dash for the door. Akaya leaped to his feet to follow, but Kamio held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Akaya?”
“Huh?” Kirihara blinked. “What?”
Kamio grinned, and nodded at the discarded ceremonial headdress. “Wear the hat,” he told him.
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