Grotesque.

Pogo woke up and looked at the clock. It was 2:30 PM.
“Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath. He got off the couch and started trying to find Marilyn. He walked into the kitchen first and found a note on the table. He picked it up and read it.

“Hey pogo. Twiggy, John , Zimmy and I went to the grocery store. Trent will be over later and I left Ginger at the house. Peace.”

“Need help reading that?” it was Ginger who walked in with his usual glare. Pogo shook his head.
“Nah, I got it. Thanks anyway,” he said sarcastically. Ginger glared for a couple more seconds and turned away. He walked into the next room, threw Pogo’s blanket off the couch and sat down. Pogo walked over and sat next to him. Ginger gave him a disgusted look and scooted away from him.
“Oh, c’mon. Get over it. Please? I mean I’m not gunna do it again. I swear,” Pogo told him. Ginger’s glare softened, but he then turned his head away and switched on the TV.
“Hey, we can be friends. Right? You can trust me,” Pogo insisted.
“Kay, no. I’m not going to trust you. I’ll be nicer to you, but don’t ever touch me.” Ginger looked into his eyes, trying to bore it into his head. Pogo nodded.
“And I know that you are an asshole in general, so stop acting so nice,” Ginger said as he went back to watching the TV. Pogo was trying to think of something else to say when the front door opened. Both him and Ginger turned to see Twiggy, Marilyn, John and Zimmy walking in.
“We bought wieners!” Twiggy said rather loudly.
“He wants to roast them over the fire,” Marilyn explained.
“Morbid,” Ginger joked.
“Yeah, we got stuff for smores, too,” Zimmy explained. He flashed a toothy smile and walked into the kitchen.
“Afraid?” Ginger asked Marilyn.
“Of what?” Marilyn asked incredulously.
“You’re going to trust them with a fire in your yard,” Ginger stated simply.
“Meh, it might not be that bad. Assuming we stay sober.”

“Good luck with that,” Ginger said with a grin. Marilyn flashed him a smirk as Ginger sipped from his bottle and pointed to Pogo who did the same.
“What ever,” Marilyn chuckled in defeat. He heard Twiggy yelling at Zimmy in the kitchen. He ran in to see ZimZum snort something off the table.
“Fuck- just cut it out!” he yelled at them. “You guys are always high.” Twiggy and Zim looked from each other to Marilyn. They both had identical expressions on their faces, like kids caught stealing. Twiggy then smiled and walked over to Marilyn. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed him. ZimZum shuddered and left the room.
“EW,” he muttered as he walked past them. Twiggy giggled.
“It’s all good, though, right, Marilyn?” he asked innocently. Marilyn stared at him blankly and sighed.
“I guess,” he replied.
“Good,” Twiggy said with a grin. He kissed Marilyn again, but this time the kiss was deeper. Pogo walked in and spotted them. His face scrunched in remorse.
“Ugh,” he muttered.
“I know it’s disgusting,” Zimmy chuckled. Marilyn and Twiggy broke apart, and Twiggy went skipping away whooping. ZimZum ran into the kitchen and grabbed the backpack he left on the floor.
“What’s in there?” Pogo asked. Zimmy just smiled mischievously.
“Hmm, drugs?” Pogo asked, raising one non-existent eyebrow. Zimmy nodded.
“Want some?” Zimmy asked. Pogo grinned. ZimZum motioned for him to follow him, and he did. Together they slid into the basement without anyone noticing.
Marilyn followed Twiggy outside to find Ginger had already set up a fire. He was sitting beside it grinning.
“Cool, right?” Ginger said, satisfied with himself. Marilyn nodded blankly, not wanting to follow through with the rest of the day. John was sitting farther away from the rest of them.
“Are you tired, Marilyn?” John asked. Marilyn nodded. He suddenly got an idea and ran inside. Twiggy put a stick into the fire, then took it out and starting running around with the burning stick.
“Put that down before you light something on fire,” Ginger growled at him. Twiggy sat down, but kept the stick. Marilyn came back outside with his painting stuff, sat in the corner of the yard, and started painting. The other three men stared at him.
“You’re going to sit there and paint all day?” John asked.

“Yeah sure,” Marilyn responded. John exchanged a look with Ginger, then went back to pulling grass from the ground.
“Why are you sitting way over there?” Marilyn asked john. John looked up at him and shrugged.
“You guys smell bad,” he said simply.
“You do too!” Marilyn exclaimed.
“I know but it would smell worse if we all sat together.” Marilyn thought about it and shrugged in agreement, then continued painting. “It was your idea to bath in tomato sauce, and it didn’t work.” John glared at him and went back to picking at the grass.
Downstairs, Pogo and ZimZum were both giggling.
“No...No...Shh shut up...hehe,” Pogo kept muttering and talking about random things that didn’t matter.
“Hey...Hey,” ZimZum said, hitting Pogo’s arm.
“What?”
“I saw you and Twiggy the other day…you were...uh…sitting on him…?” ZimZum was staring at him expectantly.
“Uh, no…I was getting him out of the freezer. Making sure he was breathing...you know?” Pogo replied awkwardly.
“Oh yeah sure.” ZimZum stood up and opened the freezer. “Popsicles!” he exclaimed. He brought out a box of brightly colored popsicles, took one out and ripped the white paper packaging. He took out a pink Popsicle and started licking it. Pogo started laughing.
“What?” Zim asked.
“Suck it,” Pogo giggled.
“Fuck you! It happens to taste good. You suck it!” Zim yelled rather happily. He started shoving the Popsicle in Pogo’s face. Pogo tried to push him away, and rolled on his back. ZimZum jumped on him and kept trying to shove the frozen treat in his mouth.
“Get off me, you sicko!” Pogo yelled senselessly. Zimmy wouldn’t give up, tough. He kept laughing at Pogo.
“Okay! Fine. I’ll lick it but that’s it,” Pogo growled. ZimZum held it in front of his face. Pogo held ZimZum’s hands to make sure he wouldn’t move it, and then ran his tongue across it.
“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Zim asked sarcastically. Pogo just giggled, and then ZimZum started giggling.

In front of the house, Trent pulled up in a cab, because he was already too drunk to drive. He lumbered up to the door and opened it. He was confused to find there was nobody inside. He started walking to the back door, thinking they were probably in the yard. He was walking past the basement when he realized there was someone down there, the light was on.
ZimZum stared at him, and studied Pogo’s eyes. Pogo noticed but didn’t do anything. He felt unusually comfortable on the cold floor under the light weight of ZimZum’s delicate frame. He watched as ZimZum leaned into him, placing his lips on his. Pogo didn’t fight back, but he didn’t encourage it either. He just sat there.
“WOAH! Oh my fucking god!!” Trent interrupted.
Pogo pushed Zimmy off him and sat up.
“Oh...Trent its not-“
“Don’t even bother. I do NOT want to hear this,” Trent said as he walked away.
“Great. I’ve been sexually accused or something,” Pogo mumbled. Zimmy watched as Pogo stood up and walked up the stairs.
“Why the fuck did I do that?!” he whispered, exasperated. He ran up the stairs as well and joined everybody else in the yard. Twiggy was sitting cross-legged by the fire with a hot dog on a stick. Pogo and Trent had apparently stayed inside to talk because neither of them was in the yard. Zimmy spotted Marilyn painting in one corner of the yard and John picking at the grass in the other.
Half an hour later, Trent and Pogo had made an agreement, Marilyn finished painting, and Twiggy had disposed of all the hotdogs. He had spent the last little while throwing the hot dogs over the fence, in the pool and in the fire. Now he was roasting marshmallows and sticking them to random things.
“Just so you guys know, I don’t want you over here anymore. You’re always here,” Marilyn said.
“That’s okay, I have an idea. Everyone come here on Friday, bring pajamas,” Twiggy commanded.