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Slowly, he sets down his camera and looks directly into it, staring into the souls of whoever may eventually see his last moments. He knows he might die. He knows it’s worth the risk. They were an old friend, or someone he could tolerate at least. Kaiba doesn’t know the difference between friend and butt buddy, but what they had together was close no matter what it was. Warily, he lifts his phone into his hand. He shivers with anticipation, he promised himself he would do this. He doesn’t care if messing with the supernatural is dangerous, this is worth the risk to him. He taps the button on the side of his insanely cracked device, and opens up to his questionable foot heavy lockscreen. He licks his lips lavisciously, tempted by Goku’s sweaty feet. It takes him a moment to remember that he’s trying to contact the dead, not wank. He swipes his lockscreen, and now looks at his background. No, he doesn’t have a password. A password implies that you have something to hide. He isn’t ashamed of his fetishes or his search history! After staring at his background for a moment, which is just a slightly less sexy picture of Goku with his feet out, he gets ready to make the call. The call to the other side. He enters in the numbers.
867-5309. Even Tommy Tutone, everyone’s (debatable) favorite one hit wonder band, knew of Kaiba’s old ‘pal’.
He gulps down on his nerves, and calls the number. A number he could never forget. Partly because he actually had it memorized due to calling it several times, and partly because he listens to the 80s hit every time he takes a cold shower and cries. He takes a lot of cold showers. The dial tone rings softly, while he waits for a sign of life. He shifts his gaze to the time. 2:59 a.m— so close to the time of summoning. If this doesn’t work, nothing ever will. Even his company’s success relies on 3 a.m, as that is when he prints his copies and variants of blue eyes white dragon. It’s a rare card, except for when it isn’t. Just when he starts to feel that the phone had been ringing for a bit too long, he hears a click.
“Okay guys, I think I’ve reached him,” he whispers, looking into the camera.
“Hello? Joey Wheela here.”
“Okay Kaiba fans and miscellaneous corporate sympathizers, you’ll want to pay attention here. I’m about to show one of my brief moments of humanity!”
“Kaiba, that you?”
“He recognizes me! The ghost knows who I am, even though I didn’t reveal myself. How curious.”
“Ya literally said your name, Kaiboob.”
“What’s this Seto-Suckers? He remembers the silly nickname he used for me!”
“Why’re ya calling me? At my funeral ya talked about me resting in peace and all that.”
“Kaiba-fam, the Joey Wheeler knows he’s dead! This is what we in the business world call ‘crazy sauce’.”
“Y’ever gonna address me directly, or are ya just gonna work on the disgruntled kids’ channel thing?”
“Hey now Joey, I’m just trying to profit a little bit off of your death,” Kaiba says, half off screen.
“Alright alright, I forgot everything you do is motivated by pride and profit. It’s okay Kaiba, get that bag.”
“I will not ‘get that bag’, Joey. I’m more dignified than that.”
“Oh right, ‘pologies sicko.”
“Don’t you mean Seto?”
“I thought your name was Kaibo?”
“Well, nevermind. Anyway, subscribers of Kaibacorp, leave a comment about YOUR experience contacting the dead to win a free Kaibacorp gift card! Now let’s get back to my touching moment with an old friend.”
“Okay, Kaiba, what'd ya wanna tell me?”
“I have some inquiries for you, Wheeler. First, I’d like to know, is the Brooklyn accent real?”
“‘Fraid I’d have to kill ya if I answered that.”
“Okay… In that case, I have another question. Was I your best friend?”
“Is this a joke?”
“No.”
“Then I probably shouldn’t answer this question either.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, we were pretty much just butt buddies, Kaiba.”
“JUST BUTT BUDDIES? I’ll have you know that our anal meant a lot to me!”
“That’s nice.”
“‘That’s nice’?! Joseph Wheeler, how could you?”
“Uh, are ya still recordin’ this?”
“Yes I am! Kaiba fans, leave a comment below about YOUR reason to hate Joey Wheeler for a chance to win all the love and affection I hypothetically used to feel for him.”
“Listen, Kaiboob, I’ve gotta go. Satan needs me to clean the spaces between his toes.”
“DON’T YOU DARE BRAG RIGHT NOW, WHEELER!” It was too late. Joey Wheeler had hung up.
“Okay Kaibabes, it’s over. I may not have been killed, but my heart is crushed. I hope you guys are ready for next week's tender ‘phonesex with Goku at 3 a.m.’ video. Kaiba out…”
With that, he shut the camera down. He couldn’t believe their butt solidarity meant nothing to Joey! Was Joseph perhaps jealous of his superior cheeks? If only he could have gotten more answers. He sets his head between his hands and begins to cry. Quickly, his stream of tears turns to a river. He knows the truth, it’s just difficult to face. Joey could never love Kaiba. He hates to face it, but his hair just cannot compare with Wheeler’s. He presses his palms tighter to his face, trying to stop the sobbing. He knows he can’t run from his sorrow any longer.
“DAMN YOU AND YOUR LUCIOUS 90 DEGREE ANGLE HAIR!!” Kaiba cries out in agony.
It’s too much for him to bear. He throws his phone to the ground, and stomps on it. He knows he can afford to replace it. Still, the realization of losing a terabyte of Goku pornography hits him like a brick to the face. It only makes him cry more. Is he damned to a life of suffering and inferiority? Is this simply how his life was fated to be? He knows there’s only one thing he can do to distract himself.
Kaiba retreats to his living room, and looks through his DVD collection. He picks up his favorite move, Click 2006 featuring a more comforting (by his standards) Brooklyn homosexual.
“Ah, Adam Sandler, I know you will always be here for me.”