☆WRITTEN DECEMBER 2018☆

A/N: Okay, so going forward I think my inclination is to name the sections. That may change, but it's what I'm feeling atm. This one's about you and Prince Soma. It involves you going to Miami, and dealing with both American and Indian stereotypes by the lame British bastards and their imperialism. Also, he misinterprets the song at the top, by LMFAO, "I'm in Miami Bitch," and you realise he's more innocent and angelic than ever. Also there's a lot of preening. And clapping. Okay, enjoy!

I dedicate this to someone who will probably never read it:  my best friend irl. She's Telugu, and/or miss India USA, a Brahmin and though I love her, a human peacock, so. this goes out to you, my love, the female Prince Soma.]

________________________________

"But I wanted to to go to Goa!" You rolled your eyes, after wiping them from laughing. The young man you'd been crushing on ever since he'd come to study abroad at your college, like it was called in America, was so funny. He made everything entertaining. "Aaagniii! Can't we just fly there instead?"

Oh. Right. He was rich- what would be a modern prince, literally, though Indian royalty held no real power anymore. It didn't stop him from being as extravagant as they once were. He wanted to go on his plane to India, to the famous tropical paradise of his younger days. He was still a kid. Well, kinda. Eighteen.

"Ibiza was the second choice, if you remember, my Prince. You'd asked for a vote. Goa lost." The old boy/young man had brought with him a literal butler. You snorted as the man clapped at anything his (and you grimaced even saying it now, in the twenty-first century, as a proud citizen of the greatest nation in the world- you didn't believe in titles or stations) master said or did. The man believed your friend to be a God.

"I'm from here." You gripped the steering wheel of your car, a nice one from your house, on the beach, which was also a nice one. It was in Miami for the love of God! This was an awesome vacation spot. "Don't you think it's fun to see more of where you're studying directly?" You turned off the road, down the sandy path leading towards the water's edge, where you could see scores of people gearing up to party. The sun was hot and the sky was blue: perfect atmosphere to riot. The other passengers in your car huffed as they were jostled around.

"Hey! Take it easy!" You groaned.

"Yes, I must say it's terribly bumpy."

"Memememe It's terribly bumpy I must say. I find this maritime landscape most disagreeable." You mocked the other two irksome members of your party, one more tolerable than the other. He acted like a damn anachronism, like he was copied and pasted from the 1890s. The British were the worst. "I'm from London. I'm Sebastian. I can't speak like a normal dude. I have to talk like I'm on Downton Abbey." You lowered your voice, mocking an older protagonist from a show you referenced frequently but hardly ever watched. You stuck your chin in the air, pushing your shades up on your nose as though they were spectacles, ones which bore a sole purpose: punctuating drollery which for some reason was freakin' riveting for those yahoos. Everything I've ever heard is vexing." His friend snickered.

"If you hate England so much why'd you spend half of Uni there?"

"College."

"You weren't on holiday."

"On vacation."

"You went there to study the Victorian Era!" He laughed. You slammed on breaks at his next words. "That's where you met us- Sebastian was your professor at Oxford!"

"We're here. Let's go swimming." You were about to get out of your smaller-than-you'd-like-it-to-be sedan, that you liked the functionality of, but still kinda envied the sports cars all around you. Before you could, however, the young man you actually cared for like that opened his mouth excitedly, nodding and pointing at the radio, which you'd turned down to argue with the dumb British people. Ciel was okay, though. You liked him enough.

"Soma, what is it?" You checked your watch. You had loads of time, but parking was by the hour. You didn't want to sit in the car if you could cicle the block for free. It'd take a while to get a spot again, even here, away from the shops and bars.

"This song! I like it! Turn it up, Agni!"

You slapped the oddly devoted man's oddly strong hand away. "I can do that. It's my car." You twisted the dial, and sank back into the seat, rubbing your eyes. You'd only heard that song a billion times growing up here.

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫
When I step on the scene
Y'all know me, 'cause I walk with a limp
Like a old school pimp a real O G
I'm rocking vans
I'm in the sand
I've a got a red bull and vodka up in my hand
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

Hay, you're looking kind of cute in that polka dot bikini, girl
Hay, this is what I want to do take of that polka dot bikini, girl

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫
Drink all day
Play all night
Let's get it poppin'
I'm in Miami bitch
Drink all day
Play all night
Let's get it poppin'
I'm in Miami bitch
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

You wanted to shoot yourself, but you didn't like guns. It was the only un-American thing you ever proudly did.

"Ooooohhhhh I like this! American music is truly wonderful is it not?" You couldn't help but grin when he said it.

"Yes, I suppose it is. If you like objectifying  women and glorifying prostitution, not to mention offending people with deformities."

"I swear to GOD Sebastian, I will get my uncle (your most redneck relative's name, and/or any that applies) to come down here from Georgia and kill you in His name."

"Oh how patriotic. Religion and violence. Classic American ethics." You slammed the knob, turning off the music to which Soma was still shimmying.

"Shut up, you imperialist hypocrite! England's ethics were/are far less cohesive and/or (you actually said "slash" on both occasions- your classes really got to you, not to mention the ones you'd taken from him- everything worth saying anymore  felt like you were reading aloud, noting escaped scholarly rhetoric given the time you'd devoted to your thesis: an under-appreciated, brilliant rendition of modern terrorism, how a lack of education led to its power in post-colonial states. You'd become an insufferable snob since you'd gotten back, but you'd be the last one to notice) conducive to a decent state of peace, even now! You guys took over the world, not to mention your religious violence! I mean come on, really?!? It took you guys six hundred years to get your shit straight!"

"You're not innocent." Sebastian shot back, smirking. "Look at what you did to Guam, or Hawai'i."

"Soma!" You turned to the now frightened young man for help concerning England's colonial history. "Back me up here."

"She's right, you know." He did so immediately, and in a surprisingly mature manner. "You did take over my country, and hers. So, you're in the minority here."

You grinned, gloatingly, opening the door to your car, as Agni and Sebastian opened theirs to help their friends out. You'd never do that for yours, they'd think you were the biggest kissass ever. "Ha!" He stalked past you, mimicking your previous mocking gestures.

"I'm an American. I like NASCAR and Jesus and big old fat women, and Walmart and football which I play with my hands. I like shooting squirrels with my guuun-" he ran into something, or someone. It was the first time you'd seen him look scared.

"What's a whiny little twig like you got on a couple of men like us, huh?"

Oh no. The typical jug-heads which migrated down from Jersey Shore every Spring Break before it gets warm enough to fist bump and smash all summer up north were about to lay into Sebastian. The one was even ominously hitting his fist with the palm of his other hand.

"Yeah. You got a problem with America?"

"If you have such beef with this winsomely bountiful land" they were strangely articulate. "Then go home."

You laughed as his friend butted in, and he turned your way. "Hey, baby. Who're you?" The trio of unclear-if-they're-smart-or-stupid gym bros leered at you. "You got a nice wiggle to ya. How about you ditch Prince Charles over here and come chill with us? We've got Natty Ices." Ah. Yes. If only it was PBRs.

"Hey!" Soma came to your rescue. "She's with us. She's Let's all enjoy Miami together. From one pimp to another, okay?" You slapped your face as the men walked away laughing hysterically, Soma never got the handshake he wanted.

You headed toward the water, trying to explain to Soma what he didn't understand about the music, but he kept getting distracted by all of the sights and sounds around him. Finally you threw in the towel for a while, as he went to change. You stood impatiently beside the lapping waves, body surfers and underage drinkers galumphed through the water and sand, and you turned to see him emerge.

"Oh no..." you wanted to dive headfirst into the sea and never come back, but he waved to you, excitedly, dressed top to bottom in purple, a girlish, lavender purple at that, with a ridiculous hat, the yellow tassels looking like those of a pillow as they matched the gold of his robe. He held something in his arms, and your jaw dropped.

You almost hissed at a few girls, one of which sounded like a seagull when she spoke. "Is that a little tiger baby?" It's called a cub you dumb bitch. You grimaced. So annoying. "Oh look he's so cute!" Her friends nearly tripped over in the sand as they stood up so fast.

"Oh you're cute, too!" One said.

"Where are you from?" Another gushed.

"London! India originally." You seriously considered buying a gun for the first time in your life.

"Oh I just love your accent! British boys are the best! They're so smart, aren't they? So fancy. I want to go there."

"I don't think you'd like it." You thanked Krishna himself for Soma'a catty response. "It's too cold to wear what you have on here. You'd need more than a polka dot bikini. Everywhere isn't like Miami bitch."

She looked offended but walked away proudly. Yesssssss. You recognised your victory was short lived, you'd have to inform Soma of his mistake, now that you had the chance, before he got beat up over it.

There was one more obstacle to your path. Sebastian was hawking the tiger. "Move, dumbass." You shoved him towards a few of those girls fawning over Englishmen. "Go find a human girl to dote on." Several nearby ones nearly fainted when he'd taken off his shirt.

He shook his head and took the cat from Soma. "I don't want one." He nodded to Ciel. "Come in the water with me."

You weren't proud of yourself for shouting it so loudly, since the sort of dudes here would tear them up over it, but it probably wasn't untrue. "GAY!"

You didn't notice anyone else but Soma then, as Agni had gone dutifully to guard his stuff. Thankfully he'd taken off his ludicrous hat, and now, you did the same thing those other girls did, gawked, but you didn't say much. He was gorgeous, and you grabbed his hand, repeating what that British Douchebag who'd actually taught you really well at Christ Church had said "Come in the water with me!"

"Okay!" The two of you had a blast that afternoon, and finally, though you didn't want to leave, the sun began to set. You noticed Agni had been strangely absent, and as you dried off, met back up with Sebastian, Ciel and a wet, yet happy tiger you heard those same irritatingly overplayed lyrics boom through the skies, their "melody" (if anyone could call it that) flowing across the strings of lights and solid timber of the boardwalks from a nearby fraternity house. You scanned the scene for your car. You didn't see it. Maybe the lot was just too full now that it was rave time and you'd gotten distracted and forgotten exactly where you'd left it. There were way too many people in this city.

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫
Everybody on smash, smash
Hands in the air, air
I'm feelin' on her ass, ass
Like a nigga don't care. like a nigga don't care
I've gotta a plan what's your sale
We playing naked twister back in my hotel
Hay, you're looking kind of cute in that polka dot bikini, girl
Hay, this is what I want to do take of that polka dot bikini, girl

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫
Drink all day, play all night
Let's get it poppin' I'm in Miami bitch
Drink all day, play all night
Let's get it poppin' I'm in Miami bitch

Get your hands up
Put that ass up
Get your hands up
I'm in Miami bitch
Put put that ass up
I'm in Miami bitch
Get yo get yo get yo get yo hands up
Put that put that put that put that ass up
Get yo get yo get yo get yo hands up
Put that put that put that put that ass up
Get yo get get yo hands
Put put put put that ass up
Put that ass up put that ass up
I'm in Miami bitch, oh

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫
It's mornin' time and the girls still there
They lying naked with some asses in the air
Anna wants it bad she's got some big kahunas
But I say I'll be back gotta get some more coronas
Hay, you're looking kind of cute in that polka dot bikini, girl
Hay, this is what I want to do take of that polka dot bikini, girl
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

Drink all day, play all night
Let's get it poppin' I'm in Miami bitch
Drink all day, play all night
Let's get it poppin' I'm in Miami bitch
Get your hands up
Put that ass up
Get you hands up
I'm in Miami bitch
Put put that ass up
I'm in Miami bitch
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

Get yo get yo get yo get yo hands up
Put that put that put that put that ass up
Get yo get yo get yo get yo hands up
Put that put that put that put that ass up
Get yo get get yo hands
Put put put put that ass up
Put that ass up put that ass up
I'm in Miami bitch
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

You wanted to vomit, as they certainly would be come the morning tide of collegiate hangovers.

"Where is Agni?" Soma asked, still twirling his hands in the air as he danced to the music. "He missed almost all the fun in Miami, bitch."

You shook your head and laughed. "It's Miami Beach." You play punched him. "You can't expect to impress any girls here if you keep calling them bitch."

"Why would I want to do that?" He smiled at you. "I have you don't I?"

"Me?" You blinked, shocked but hopeful. "You have me?"

"You like me right?" You smiled.

"I do."

"Well then, you'll be my beach." He pointed at you, and you almost hugged him, considering kissing him in front of the other two people in your company (you weren't big on PDA, and this place was rife with it) but his mouth opened like it did when he first heard that dreadful song, and he pointed higher.

You turned around, flabbergasted.

"What is that?" The tiger in Sebastian's arms emitted a noise somewhere between a meow and a snarl as Soma spread his arms wide, tuning to face to you before bowing. You peered around him, along with what appeared to be several members of Phi Kapppa Whatever-alon as they leaned over the railing of their deck.

"Haven't you seen an elephant before?" He laughed, calling for Agni as he eagerly stepped down, holding a different robe and different, prettier feathered hat. The whole ensamble reminded you of a peacock. You smirked as you turned behind you, as one of the adjacent inebriated preeners called out. You knew where your car was, where Agni had gone.

"He's a REAL pimp, Thad! Look- he's got Aladdin's ride!"

"It's Prince, Brad. Primps don't ride those things. They ride hoes. And fast cars." He whooped and nearly toppled off his balcony. They were shouting and slurring their words at the same time. A true feat.

"Why don't you shut up and go back to the beach?"

"Make me, bitch."

"Huh." Ciel broke in. "When you think about it, those two words are similar."

"That's the point of the song." You all stared at Agni as he replied, bumping fists with his best friend who nodded in affirmation. "Come up, let's go home."

You held Soma's hand on the way back, and you didn't feel like a common 'dancer', nor a pampered palace brat, but a variant of someone Disney had already made American enough, your own perhaps more mature and/or immature version of Jasmine, like you were the Princess of Miami itself.

Maybe you were a beach after all. As you looked back over the sunset, casting amber fire down on the sea, you felt like it was a fitting metaphor...one Soma clearly understood all along. You felt guilty for treating him like such a fob right after chewing out Sebastian over his stance on imperialism. Though, he'd given you straight A's in his classes, so you knew you weren't ignorant. They all did. He wasn't an easy professor, especially at a school like Oxford. You actually began to see the relative artistry in the correlation of the crass, open, unfettered beauty of the beach with the informal, raw, lively ways people acted and called each other there. It was supposed to be funny, of course, but comedy could be poetic. You'd give it a chance.

That is until the horribly un-poetic song actually came on again, and for the zillionth time that year. You moaned. This was going to be a long vacation.

Still, at the very least, the beat was growing on you.

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪

[[Imagine the song playing at the end, as you saunter off into the sunset looking like the OG of OGs: Prince Ali, Ali Ali, Ali Ababwaaaaaaa]]

Drink all day, play all night
Let's get it poppin' I'm in Miami bitch...

♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♪
_______________________________

[[A/N 2.0: I hope you guys liked it! Let me know if you have any requests! I know I need to study more- my perfect 25/25 on the logical reasoning sections on the LSAT went down since I started socialising again. Yessss. *rubs hands maniacally* I must recede into relative obscurity and plot out my future millionaire lifestyle so I may too, look like a pimp once I emerge reborn. Ride into New Haven on a goddamn lion or some shit. That or get me a paladin furnished with perpetual bearers. I've made it clear I've been prioritising completing my other full-length stories in a manner most dedicated, but I wanted a fun break: as inspiration struck the moment I found my old iPod from seven years ago. Ugh. I'm getting old. Still not really, but damn. Gotta get it in gear if imma be in charge of a stockholder position and/or stockholder by age 25.

I'm out tricks. Stay dope.
~ Britt]]