we invented the remix 5

faggots are funny by runzu: the adventures of a reluctant freestyle poptart, saving the world from cylons and single-handedly stopping genocide mix by phaballa

Many thanks to withdiamonds for helping me through this. The hand-holding was much needed and appreciated.

"So, I think I'm going to give up the whole pop music thing and become a rapper."

Silence on the other end of the phone line, and then the sound of Chris laughing. Actually, the sound of Chris laughing hysterically. JC frowns into the phone. That's pretty rude. Chris can be such a jerk sometimes.

"So yeah, I'm totally going to give up this pop thing about become a rapper," JC says loudly. He has to almost shout, because Chris is still cackling and taking these huge gasping breaths. And like, JC is funny, he's a funny guy and he has an excellent sense of humor and he even likes David Sedaris, especially the last one, the corduroy one. David Sedaris is like a tiny, flaming version of Justin. Well, not that Justin isn't flaming, but he's never worked as an elf at Macy's, so.

"JC," Chris says, taking deep breaths. "Look, I know things aren't going that well with your record right now, but uh. Rap is not the way to go, man."

"I can totally rap," JC says. He wants to sulk. He can totally rap, Chris doesn't even know. JC is totally BFF with Eminem now. They've had coffee at least three times and sometimes Em takes him to this abandoned house in the ghetto to teach JC about street life, although really, JC suspects that Em is secretly trying to seduce JC with his hardcoreness and badassery. It's sort of working, but JC doesn't tell Chris that. Chris never believes any of JC's amazing adventures, like the time he turned into a half-cat for a month. He had to wear a hat to cover his ears (even though they were totally cute and that hat felt restrictive and itchy, but Tyler convinced him that it didn't matter how adorable he looked with ears, normal people didn't have them and JC couldn't just walk around in public like that) and baggy jeans to hide the tail. JC really misses the tail. It was useful in so many ways.

"I'm sure you can rap, JC," Chris says. "I bet you're awesome at it and if, like, 50 Cent showed up on the basketball court one day and demanded a rap battle, you'd win for sure."

"Dude!" Chris is, like, psychic, JC thinks, because he totally doesn't remember telling Chris about the rap battle the other day. 50 Cent was seriously impressed by JC's mad rap skillz. It was pretty awesome.

JC pulls his phone away from his ear and stares at it. Chris is psychic, which is pretty freaky and sort of scary, really, because if there's one person JC doesn't want reading his mind or whatever, it's Chris. But he knows about the rap battle, so. JC guesses that Chris being psychic is a lot less weird than the half-cat thing. But also, a lot less cute. JC was really happy as a half-cat. He slept really well. "Um," says JC. "Well, but Eminem totally helped me out with that. I mean, just him being there was pretty inspiring."

"You fucker," Chris says, laughing again. "Man, okay, you know what? Go for it. I think you should tell Jive to fuck themselves and get your good friends Eminem and Dr. Dre to sign you instead. You can write raps about lesbian robots masturbating in space or something, it'll be awesome."

"I haven't met Dr. Dre yet," JC tries to say, but Chris is laughing again, really loudly, and JC's pretty sure he doesn't hear. Chris is maybe psychic, but he's definitely as asshole. And JC? Is totally a freestyle poptart. 50 Cent said so, so it must be true.

JC and Justin are hanging out one day, just chilling at his house and talking about whatever, catching up, even though JC doesn't really do anything now and Justin's doing all the talking, when they decide to make a record.

Okay, well, so that's the official version of the story, but what really happens is, JIVE says that JC needs to get Justin in on the album because it's gotta do well and Justin is magic, so JC shows up at the appointed time and place, sulky and unhappy and resentful, because honestly, if anyone's magic, it's JC. Justin has never even grown any extra animal parts. Clearly, he's a lot less magic than JC.

"So I was thinking," Justin says, glaring at the mixing board, "that we should do a song with like, this kind of piano vibe thing going on and there can be, like, these strings and—"

"I want to rap."

"Uh." Justin looks at him finally, lips quirking a little like he might smile. JC narrows his eyes. It's not a joke, he wants to rap. He's an awesome freestyle poptart, and everyone needs to recognize. And stuff.

"Seriously, J. I want to rap."

"JC. You know I, um, respect your artistry and stuff, man, but I don't think that's gonna fly with JIVE."

"You're rapping on your album," JC accuses.

"Well but, C. It's, you know, it's Tim and Three Six Mafia and shit, it's not really me. They're doing me a favor. It's just for fun."

"Eminem wants to make out with me," JC says. "He'd maybe help me out and be on my record. He totally wants to make out with me."

Justin laughs. "Aww, baby," he says, and puts his arm around JC, squeezing a little. It would be sort of nice if JC weren't already pissed off at JIVE for not understand his special brand of magic and at Justin for being Justin and perfect and annoying and also, not believing him about his rapping abilities. Justin kisses him on the cheek and grins. "Everyone wants to make out with you, C. Even Eminem. But you still can't rap."

The thing with Eminem is getting really out of control, JC thinks. They talk on the phone all the time, and they meet up sometimes when they're both in LA, usually for "swearing lessons" or coffee or basketball. JC doesn't have the heart to tell Eminem that he's known how to swear for a long time and it's not, like, a skill that can only be acquired via growing up on the mean streets of Detroit or whatever. But Eminem seems to enjoy making JC say 'fuck' and 'cock' and 'ass' over and over again. JC doesn't mention how it's pretty much the gayest thing he's ever done.

So the thing with Eminem is getting out of hand and JC decides to distract himself by making out with Lance at Chris's birthday party. They're drunk and Lance is hot and Lance is gay, so it makes total sense that JC should make out with him. Lance is really good at making out. Lance does this thing with his tongue that's pretty amazing and JC composes a haiku about it in his head while they kiss:

Lance is amazing
As is his fabulous ass
Two handfuls of joy

Technically, JC thinks, haikus are supposed to be about nature or whatever, but Lance's ass is pretty natural. Naturally fine, and stuff. And yet, JC isn't really feeling the whole groping, making out thing, which is sad, because he's sort of been waiting for years to molest Lance's ass, but all he can think about is Eminem and their amazing conversations and how badass Eminem is and what a tragic life he's led. Like Chris, only pretty.

"Dude, are you even paying attention?" Lance says, frowning. His eye is doing the weird thing it does when he's drunk and JC can't help but stare and think, Em's eyes are perfect. And blue. And don't do the weird wobbly thing.

"Sorry," JC says. He doesn't let go of Lance's ass because he really has been waiting for forever to grab it, but looks away and frowns a little. "I. It's not you, it's me. I have, like, all these things on my mind. I uh." He coughs. "I think I have a crush on someone."

"Is it Justin?"

"Ew, gross. No, Jesus. Justin's like my brother, man. Plus, he's straight. He has a girlfriend. And the weird obsession with his mom."

Lance coughs. "I'm pretty sure he's not straight, but you're right about the Lynn obsession. I wonder if he calls Cameron 'Lynn' in bed on accident or like—"

"Can we not talk about Justin's incestuous desires when I'm grabbing your ass?"

"You could always let go. We're pretty much done here, right?"

JC frowns and squeezes a little. Lance really does have a fabulous ass. It's maybe the one thing about Lance that's better than Eminem, but Lance's ass is like, inhumanely perfect. Maybe he's half-cylon, and he just happens to have grown a fantastic cylon ass. It would make more sense the whole cat episode, not to mention Lance's ruthlessness and love of God. JC lets go quickly and backs away a little, giving Lance a look. Cylons are creepy. Like, way creepier than half-cats. Cylons randomly assassinate people and blow shit up and steal babies and commit genocide. Genocide is bad. JC is taking a definite stand against genocide.

"I have to go," JC says, tripping a little on his own feet. "I have this thing. Very important thing that needs doing, like, immediately. So, uh. Yeah."

Lance rolls his eyes and gives JC a small smile, but JC sees right through that tactic. "Good luck with your crush, C," Lance says, and JC thinks he sees a flash of something in Lance's freaky, wobbly eyes. Probably, it's the microchips running his brain and also, that whole space thing makes so much more sense now.

Lance is just a cylon trying to get back to his base ship or whatever. He was probably trying to relay the coordinates to earth with the space mission thing, but the Russians are clearly onto Lance's nefarious cylon plan. God bless the Russians.

What happens next is, JC accidentally kind of sort of has phone sex with Eminem. He doesn't mean for it to happen, but like sometimes, when he's already lying down and he has a free hand, he just can't help touching himself. It's not JC's fault he's so sexy. It's like, maybe a genetic thing, and also, if God didn't want him masturbating while on the phone with badass sexy rappers, He wouldn't have given JC such a nice, entirely strokable dick.

In the end, JC decides, God wanted him to have phone sex with Eminem. It was written in the stars and stuff. Their destinies aligned to make it so. Also, Eminem has a sexy voice and JC can't help it—when someone calls him a whore, he comes. It's like that scientist with the bells and the dogs. JC doesn't really like to think about his training for the whole whore-trigger thing, it being a long and arduous process and now JC can't even look Joey in the eye anymore. JC doesn't miss the days when Joey wasn't so straight and was way into role-playing. Nope. Not at all. But if there's one person who'll be able to help JC figure this whole hotass rapper dilemma out, it's Joey.

"So, I have a question for you," JC says when Joey picks up the phone. "I figured since you're, like, all into role playing and shit—"

"Dude, that was one time and you came before anything could actually happen."

"Whatever, it was traumatic and the effects are long-lasting, okay? Anyway, I just need to know about boots."


"Yeah, because um. There's this guy. And I sort of need to have some pink combat boots made. He, uh, was pretty descriptive about the sort of footwear he wanted and—"

"It's not Justin, is it?"

"God, no! Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Justin likes shoes. It makes sense, man."

"Well it's not Justin. If you must know, it's, um. It's Eminem."

"Uh huh. Sure, okay. Does this have something to do with the rap battle Chris was telling me about?"

"Well." JC frowns. He's totally a freestyle poptart, but no one else has believed him and he doesn't really feel like having Joey laugh at him like everyone else. Joey is nice and sweet and shiny, aside from when he's calling JC a whore and okay, so maybe he did accidentally come before they could really do anything besides the name-calling bit, but whatever. It's not JC's fault that Joey was laughing too hard to continue.

"Look, JC, no one's gonna think less of you just because you're not all ghetto and shit. We'll still love you, man."

"Thanks," JC says. He almost means it, too, but mostly he's being sarcastic. "But I really did have a rap battle with 50 Cent and I'm like, the Freestyle Poptart and everything now, so you all can just go fuck yourselves."

"The Freestyle what now?" Joey laughs.

"I hate you. Just—do you know about the boots, or not? Because I think I'm maybe falling in love with this guy—"

"With Eminem."

"Yes. He's totally a badass sexy rapper and we have great conversations over coffee, and also, amazing phone sex and he's a lot better at dirty talk than you, so THERE."

"I'm sure he is, honey. And you just want to please him. With pink combat boots. That's sweet, JC."

"I am not sweet!" JC says. "I am a badass freestyle poptart, damn it! Why doesn't anyone believe me?"

"Because you're nuts. But don't worry, C. That's why we love you."

JC isn't exactly expecting an intervention from his bandmates, but he's not really surprised when they stage one anyway. Chris likes to pretend that he knows something about human behavior because he has some sort of fancy psychology degree or whatever, so he takes it upon himself to lead the thing. Mostly, JC is bored. And a little offended. He's not delusional, no matter what Justin says. He did have a rap battle with 50 Cent and Eminem is totally his BFF, or his maybe lover, but there's definitely something there and at least he doesn't want to fuck his mom. JC doesn't say that out loud, though. Justin is big, and JC likes his face the way it is.

"So, JC." Chris smiles thinly at him. "This is an intervention."

"Whatever," JC says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He's maybe pouting a little, but he deserves it because honestly, he shouldn't have to deal with this shit. They're not even a band anymore, they're on the hiatus from fucking hell (and JC suspects that it's not, as he previously thought, Justin's fault at all, but actually part of Lance's grand cylon scheme to take over Earth and destroy mankind), and this is just ridiculous. They're not Backstreet. They don't get to have interventions. Plus, JC is pretty sure he's not addicted to Eminem. Well. Not entirely. Not in an AJ kind of way. He did maybe have those boots made, but only because he really likes pink. He thought about getting them to add sparkles, but decided against it because Em never mentioned sparkles and JC doesn't want to ruin the fantasy. The whore-in-pink-combat-boots fantasy. Em's a creative guy. Creative and sexy. Plus, the boots are super comfortable. JC wears them all the time now.

"Not 'whatever,' JC," Justin says quietly. "We're really worried about you. You're acting. Weird. Er. Weirder than usual."

"Because I'm hanging out with rappers?" JC says. He sneers a little. Or he tries, anyway. He always looks sort of retarded when he curls his lip, so it's not an expression he uses very often. He thought about practicing it in the mirror, but the sight of himself looking slightly retarded is too scary. "You're just jealous."

Justin snorts. "Dude, I hang out with rappers all the time, okay? I'm not jealous, or whatever."

"But those are like, second-class rappers. I mean, they're not 50 Cent and Eminem."

"I think that Three Six Mafia and TI are pretty much first class, C, and anyway—"

"This is so not the point," Lance interrupts. "The point is. JC, look. We know you have this weird stalking thing going on with Eminem, and you need to stop before someone, like, shoots you or something."

JC laughs. "Ha, okay, right, like I'm gonna take advice from a cylon."

"…a what now?" Joey says. They're all staring at JC like he's insane. Whatever. Lance may play the fool, but JC knows what's really going on.

"Tell them, Lance!" JC says. "Tell them about the cylon plot to take over Earth and the real reason you wanted to go to space so bad."

"Dude, this is so much worse than we thought," Chris says. "I thought it was bad enough when he was claiming to be half-cat—"

"I had ears, you fucker! They were cute and pointy. And a tail! I was totally half-cat for a whole month!"

"—but this is ridiculous. Lance, what the hell is JC talking about?"

Lance smiles sharply. "JC has been watching too much Battlestar Galactica. He thinks I'm some sort of robot from outer space in a race against the Colonial Fleet to find Earth."

"That's even crazier than the cat thing," Joey says, "but uh, maybe not as weird as the Eminem obsession."

In the end, of course, the whole intervention thing doesn't accomplish much of anything except for the rest of them agreeing that JC is insane and then drinking all his liquor. But that's okay because JC gets drunk, too, and even manages to resist calling Em or making out with Lance, because he's still pretty sure about the cylon thing and he's already made out with the enemy once. Plus, he's sort of saving himself. He thinks Eminem probably won't be happy if JC goes around making out with maybe-cylons.

"So," Lance says quietly so the others can't hear, nudging JC with his shoulder. "Now that we’re all drunk and happy, you can tell me who it really is."

"I told you already," JC says. "It's Eminem. For real, cat. We even had phone sex once."

Lance frowns and gives him this look, like he's all disappointed. "Fine, be that way. If you're doing Eminem, then maybe I am a cylon. They both make about as much sense."

"The Russians were right about you," JC says, eyes narrowed.

"You wound me, JC. Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you call your buddy Eminem and tell him all about how I'm an evil cylon. He and 50 Cent and his crew can come over and take me out."

At that moment, JC's phone rings and he nearly drops it in excitement. Justin snatches it from his hand and stares at the view screen, grinning. "Who's 'Rain Man'?"

"Um," says JC, and Justin snaps the phone open with a chirpy, "Yo, JC's phone."

Justin listens for a moments, frowns and coughs, flushes red. "Uh, no man. This is, um. This is Justin. Timberlake? Yeah. Yeah, he's here, hang on." Justin holds the phone out, looking slightly dazed. "It's, uh. It's Eminem. On the phone. For you."

"Ha!" JC woops, grabbing the phone. "I told you I'm not crazy!"

"Wait," Chris says, "if JC is actually friends or whatever with Eminem, does that mean—"

"Oh my god, I'm not a cylon!" Lance shouts. "Cylons don't even exist! It's a TV show. On the SciFi channel, for fuck's sake!"

"Or so you would have us believe," Justin says, frowning.

JC covers the phone. Eminem doesn't need to hear this. JC doesn't want to be connected to the cylons in any way, just in case they eventually do find Earth and try to enslave the human race and shit. "His ass is just a little too perfect to be human," JC points out helpfully.

"And the whole space thing never really made sense," Joey says, looking thoughtful.

"Okay, fine," Lance says, "you're right, guys. Because me being an evil robot sent to Earth to destroy mankind totally makes more sense than liking space and science."

"Well," says Chris. They all pause in silent agreement.

"Okay, but the half-cat thing," Justin says, "we all agree that he totally made that up, right?"

JC just rolls his eyes and lifts the phone to his ear. He can't win them all, he thinks, and grins. "Hey Em, guess what I'm wearing. I'll give you a clue: they're pink, and they go on my feet, and they rhyme with 'wombat suits.'"

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