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Pop-Culture 101: ‘The Decline of Western Civilization’ is a documentary on the Los Angeles Punk scene in the late 70’s… check it out sometime… *pulls out a gun* I mean it…

**


He was an idiot…

100%, Grade A…

Fucking Idiot.



"Never."

He sighed, still absolutely stunned by her revelation. The Great Gatsby apparently forgotten for now as William collected himself and gave Buffy a nasty smirk.

"I can’t believe you of all people is still a sodding virgin," he scoffed.

"Again," Buffy began, her voice clipped, "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, with all of the dry-humping you and Angel do, public opinion is that the two of you were doing some of the not so dry kind as well…"

"Hey! We do stuff!" she shouted. "We do plenty of – stuff! Just not that – not yet anyway. But we will – soon."

William snickered. "Whatever you say."

"All of this talk about little ole me," Buffy began grinning wickedly, "what about you Studly?"

"About me?" William asked playing stupid.

She nodded. "Mmm-hmm. So, how many lucky young ladies have seen Paradise by the Volvo-Dashboard Light?"

"Uh…" he stuttered, "well, you don’t know her of course…"

"Sure…"

"We met last year when – uh – my family and I were vacationing in Toronto."

"What’s her name?"

"H – Her name?"

Buffy casually crossed her legs and propped her chin in the palm of her hand. "Uh-huh. She does have a name, right? I’m sure that’s required by law or something…"

"It’s um…" William paused, "Cindy?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I’m telling you. It’s Cindy."

"Cindy." Buffy smiled. "Cindy from Toronto, huh?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Very talented girl."

"So, with the exception of the female population in the Greater Toronto area; how many girls here have you fucked?"

William hesitated, looking around the room, tapping his finger on the side of his head as if he really had to think…

"Too many to count really," he laughed hollowly, "I can’t help it if so many women fancy me and oh, bloody hell," he sighed, completely defeated and just a tad humiliated, running a hand through his wild curls. "Okay none. There are none," he smiled sheepishly. "Cindy from Toronto’s a total lie."

Buffy brought a hand to her chest and gasped in mock horror. "You don’t say…"

"But it’ll happen soon for me as well…"

She let out a very unlady-like snort. "Some hot little honey in the Vulkon chat-room?"

"Ha, bloody ha," he glowered. "I had Cecily more in mind – and I’ve never been a fan of Star Trek, you should know that."

"Cecily?!" Buffy squeaked and found her self wondering, just when the stable William Hall she knew way back when had become so delusional?

William nodded.

"We are talking about the same Cecily right? About 52", curly, dark hair, boyfriend by the name of Riley, as far out of your league as humanly possible?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "That’d be the one…"

Buffy paused a moment before letting out the biggest, loudest laugh, ever heard.

William sat in silence watching the girl practically double over: lips pursed a truly annoyed look on his face, he waited patiently for her to finish wiping the tears from her eyes before saying:

"Would you mind telling me what exactly is so goddamn funny?"

"It’s just," she choked out, still giggling, "you’re joking right? If it wasn’t for Riley and company finding new and interesting ways to make you sterile, Cece wouldn’t even know you exist. Buffy shook her head, "At least Angel and I are dating – you don’t have a prayer…"

"You wanna bet," he said clenching his fists.

That wicked smile slowly returned to her lips.

"Why not."

William paled. "You are aware that I wasn’t serious…"

"Lets see…" Buffy thoughtfully drummed her fingers on the bedspread. "How about we be really 90’s teen comedy about this…"

He gave her a look. "Who or what taught you how to talk?"

"On grad night," she continued, ignoring him.

"Assuming you graduate," he handily supplied, snickering.

"On grad night…" Buffy said once more as she elegantly gave him the finger, "we lose our virginity. Me to Angel and you to Cecily…"

"Where does the bet come in exactly?"

"Here. Since, Angel and I are kind of a given – I was thinking, if you do lose your virginity to Cecily, then I’ll… I dunno, drive around in that ratty-assed Volvo of yours with Boys II Men blasting all summer."

"You don’t drive!" William shouted

"So." she shrugged.

"Summers, you’re not touching my car!"

"It’s a Volvo! The craptacular’s already built in, no one would notice."

"You’re off your bird! That’s the only car I’ve got!"

"My sympathies."

"I’ve got it," William’s lips curled into a smile. "If I sleep with Cecily, then you’ll have to bring Jonathan Levinson to Cecily’s big graduation party as your date. There should be a reasonable amount of groping on your part…"

"Jonathan?! Are you out of your fucking…" Buffy trailed off, smiling suddenly. She had nothing to worry about – this was a bet she couldn’t lose. Half the time Cecily couldn’t even get William’s name right, there was no way she’d ever consent to having sex with him, unless the bookish boy stooped low enough and evoked ‘The Great Roofie Spirit’ to trick her into it –

She shuddered at that thought before putting her hand in his and giving it a hard shake. "You’ve got yourself a bet. But – uh, on a side note – Cecily tells me everything, and if she doesn’t put ‘sex’ and ‘William Hall’ in the same sentence, you lose."

"Fair enough." William climbed to his feet and tossed her his copy of ‘Gatsby’. "Now that, that’s settled, I want chapters 1-5 read by Wednesday. I’ll quiz you on it when we meet that afternoon."

With a short nod of his head, secretly enjoying the various stages of pale her face underwent the very second he said the word ‘quiz’, William made his way to the door. "See you Wednesday, Buffy," he called back mockingly, shutting the bedroom door just in time to miss being struck in the head by a flying paperback.



What in god’s name was he thinking taking this bet?!

William sighed heavily as he stared into the mirror on his dresser. Buffy was right; he didn’t have a prayer… no hope whatsoever.

The Gods must be killing themselves laughing at him…

Slightly startled by the loud sound of the door down the hall slamming shut, he shook his head: the sound of his older sister’s appalling Cockney filling his ears and stopping his inner-cursing of himself – for now anyway.

"Mummy! Daddy! I’m goin’ out!"

Nearly twenty-six and still living at home, William considered his sister Drusilla to be one of the saddest of the sad. Of course, certain allowances had to be made for her ‘condition’. Dru was fragile, had to give her, her space, let her live as normal a life as possible. After all, no one knew she had what the doctors so handily referred to as an ‘addictive personality’. No one knew that her ‘friends’ would have so many drugs…

"Looking at your pretty face, my William?"

Jumping for the second time today, William quickly turned around to find Dru smiling at him. Raven hair covering one eye, her tiny bird-like frame supported against the doorway, she "tsked" at him disapprovingly.

"Now, now William, you know vanity is a sin."

"Right, Dru," he said stepping away from the dresser. "Is there something you wanted?"

"I’m going out!" She clapped excitedly. "And you know what that means, don’t you?"

"Stay out of your room, I know."

She pointed one long, black fingernail at him, waving it. "Lots of naughty things in there that aren’t for little boy’s eyes." Dru twirled a strand of her long hair around that same finger. "You’ll miss me while I’m gone, won’t you?"

He sighed. "Terribly."

**

She doesn’t even know you exist…

Those words, more than anything else that had come out of Buffy’s annoying little mouth seemed to stick with him. As much as it pained him to admit, this was one thing that she’d been right about. William Hall in this state of being, didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting Cecily Holmes to talk to him, let alone be his first…

The door to Dru’s room creaked loudly as he eased his way inside.

In the past, his sister’s morbid fascination with death, depression, and essentially all things Goth, frightened him. He just never got why anyone would go out of his or her way to be purposefully labeled a ‘Freak’. Why stand out when you can blend in with the background hopefully well enough so that the popular, beautiful ones would leave you alone.

He was tired of being background.

Cecily never noticed the background…

Squatting to his knees, he sifted through the massive DVD collection perfectly arranged on the bottom shelf of her desk.

Hmm…’The Decline of Western Civilization’…

But all that, he figured as he eyed the DVD in his hands, was about to change.





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