This is a definite departure from what seems to dominate this 
list recently.  I've always been more attuned to the long-fic groove (and 
BGC, at that), so this is also a departure from my past work.  In any 
event, enjoy...

	

	Ranma: Bourgeoise Blues

	By: Charles Lewis

Foreword:  This is a short fic, and doesn't fit within the continuity of 
anything much within the Ranma universe.  I like Ranma, and Ranma fan 
works, and have for quite a while now.  

	I fully realize that this Ranma Saotome doesn't really resemble 
Takahashi's character.  Then again, that's sort of the point.

	Feel free to send any comments to clewis@virtu.sar.usf.edu

	CHL, 5/28/96


	Sometimes we just wake up in a bad mood.  The culprit might be a
night of drinking and debauchery, a brain tumor, or just plain bad luck. 
To Ranma Saotome, the cause hardly mattered; the end result was, after
all, the same.  He was in a bad mood ... a very bad mood, indeed.
	Lurching from his futon, Ranma groaned and rubbed his head. He was 
sweaty, grimy and amazingly uncomfortable.  The stifling August humidity 
was thick enough to cut with a knife.  As if the weather weren't bad 
enough, he had roughly 100 kilograms of warm, furry panda lying across 
half of his already overheated body.
	Ranma wasn't amused.  It was bad enough that he had to share a
room with his father, but for some inexplicable reason his father
preferred to sleep in his cursed form.  For the umpteen millionth time,
Ranma cursed the training trip which had brought he and his father to
Jhusenkyo, and its cursed springs.  Genma and Ranma had paid the price for
their art.  When doused with cold water, Genma now became a panda, while
Ranma became female.  Fortunately, warm water reversed the process.
 	Over the past year, they had grown used to their curses.  Ranma still 
didn't enjoy being female.  It was, all in all, sort of disturbing to 
occasionally live as a girl after years of practice at being a boy.  
Usually, it was just annoying.  Occasionally, though, he found himself 
vaguely enjoying a change in gender.  This scared him which, in turn, 
disturbed and annoyed him terribly.  
	At that moment, Ranma was female, and found that having breasts
was hardly comfortable in hot weather.  This, coupled with the snoozing
panda, left Ranma in an altogether black mood.  Without a second thought,
Ranma punched the panda in the back of its furry head, knocking it far deeper
into unconsciousness.  In a single motion, she heaved its body into a
wall, and stomped out of the room. 
	Her head was pounding, and she saw red.  Stomping down the
hallway, towards the bathroom and its promise of warm water, she was
oblivious to the world around her.  As she entered the bathroom, she
removed her customary tank top and boxer shorts, tossing them carelessly
on the floor.  
	Somehow, in her mental fog, Ranma had failed to notice that
the bathroom was already occupied.  Akane, who had woken some half an hour
earlier (and in a considerably better mood) was soaking in the hot water. 
She, too, had slept badly in the stifling heat, and had gladly greeted
the morning sun and the promise of escape from the oppressive heat of her
bedroom. 
	Akane was the youngest daughter of Soun Tendou, a martial artist
and friend of Genma.  Akane had always had a fiery temper, and had taken
well to her father's craft.  Unlike many of her friends, Akane was not
intimidated by the prospect of conflict (both ph ysical and verbal),
training and work in general.  In many ways, she was the son Soun Tendo
had always wanted.  This had always been a sore point with her ... a sore
point which had been exacerbated when it had been announced that Akane had
been betrothed to Ranma.  Unsurprisingly, their relationship had been 
fraught with strife and acrimony from the start.

	This morning was to be no exception.

	"Ranma!" Akane screamed, in a tone of well-practiced indignation.
	
	Ranma looked up, her reverie broken, and stared in shock at Akane.  In 
typical fashion, Akane responded by launching a righteous punch at 
Ranma's surprised face.
	Normally, Ranma would probably have simply accepted fate ... and yet 
another punch in the mouth.  Somehow, today, she just wasn't in the 
mood.  Ranma was, in either gender, essentially a world-class martial 
artist.  After a lifetime's training, if Ranma was to be hit 
... it was to be on his (or, occasionaly, her) terms.  
	When it came down to it, whenever Akane succeeded in clobbering Ranma 
(...quite frequently) it generally involved some degree of acceptance by 
Ranma ... generally out of guilt for one insensitive comment, or 
another.  In a strange way, it was an easy, non-threatening sort of 
communication.  Both Akane and Ranma had been hitting people all of their 
lives.  To continue to do so was far easier than asking (and answering) 
the really hard questions. 
	Today was different.  Ranma was, for once, in no mood at all for 
Akane's tantrums.  With ease, Ranma sidestepped Akane's clumsy (if 
exuberant) swing, and caught her with a precise (and reflexive) leg 
sweep.  Akane hit the tiled floor with a sound thud.  She looked up, 
more surprised than hurt, and stared at Ranma, her mouth open.  A small 
trickle of blood flowed from a cut on her lip.
	"Christ," Ranma spat, "can't you do any better than that?  We've known 
each other for over a year, and have seen each other naked a dozen 
times.  Can't you understand that it's just another fucking awkward 
moment and be done with it?  Why the hell can't you answer _any_ problem 
without yet more violence!?  I just can't decide if you're psychotic, or 
just stupid."
	Akane, lying on the tile, looked up at Ranma ... still stunned.  
He had never struck her in anger before ... had never _been_ angry with her 
before.  Ranma walked past her, and stepped into the warm water.  After 
a moment, a male Ranma stepped out.  
	Akane blushed inadvertantly as Ranma walked by ... still naked, and 
grabbed a towel.
	As the import of Ranma's words sunk in, Akane began to feel hurt and 
confused.  A tear began to trickle down her cheek.  She opened her mouth as 
if to speak to Ranma, but he walked coldly by her ... ignoring her 
totally.  
	Pulling on his clothes, Ranma cursed silently.  At the back of his 
mind, he cursed himself for his treatment of Akane.  She deserved 
better ... better than him.  
	He wore the same damned chinese shirt just about every day of his
life.  He gave the unconscious panda a kick for good measure, cursing his
father as a pathetic deadbeat vagrant.  It was *his* fault that he was 
such an ass.  No... he stopped himself ... if there was one thing he had 
learned, it was that the responsibility always lay within.  With a savage 
grunt, he turned his anger inward. 
	Walking downstairs, Ranma considered going for a run, or training in 
the back yard, but the rotting stillness of the air dissuaded him.  
	Ranma walked into the kitchen, in hopes of finding something cool to 
drink.  Instead, he found Kasumi, the eldest Tendou daughter, wearing 
her customary dress and apron, working over a hot stove.  He couldn't 
imagine how she could remain conscious, let alone _cook_ in a full dress 
in the horrendous heat.  
	Kasumi had always struck Ranma as the most dangerous of the Tendous.  
Throughout all of the nonsense which seemed to plague the Saotomes and 
Tendous, Kasumi seemed perennially and pathetically oblivious.  Ranma 
couldn't decide whether she was focused on some higher plane, or if she 
were simply brain damaged.  
	Kasumi turned, and smiled at Ranma.  He marvelled at her 
sweat-free brow.
	"Good morning," Kasumi beamed, "How did you sleep?"
	"Badly," Ranma replied, "how can anyone sleep in this shit?"
	"That's nice!" she exclaimed, turning back to her cooking.
	Ranma couldn't imagine eating anything hot.  Instead, he opted to 
return to the living room, passing by the human wreck which was Soun 
Tendo in the dining room.  Since his wife's death, the Tendo father had 
been utterly useless as a human being.  He seemed to excel only at 
pathetic melodrama, and reading newspapers.  
	Sitting on the floor, Ranma turned on the television, again silently 
cursing as the overwhelming mass of pathetic bullshit threatened to 
swamp his mind ... yet again.  He was a lazy shit of a son, content to 
breeze through life as an adequate martial artist and a deadbeat.  He was 
no better than his father.  The very thought made him ill.
	As if on cue, the middle Tendou, Nabiki, entered the room.  Ranma was 
not particularly fond of Nabiki, who seemed to occupy most of her time 
garnering pathetic profit from her equally pathetic cohort of friends 
and family.  She seemed unduly fond of extorting money from Ranma and 
Akane, although she seemed to equally enjoy lending money at usurous 
rates.  
	"Good morning, Saotome, how did we sleep?" she began.
	"What do you think, Nabiki?" Ranma replied, becoming even more 
irritated.  He continued to watch the seemingly infinite loop of talking 
heads and toothpaste commercials on television.
	"10,000 yen, Saotome" Nabiki stated simply.
	"For what?" he absently responded.
	"To bail you out of that little spat with Akane.  I should charge you 
more, but you _are_ almost family."
	"Fuck off," Ranma replied, still watching television.
	"You wouldn't want Akane to find these pictures of you and Ukyou 
walking in the park ... now would you?"  She continued, taking a different tack.
Ranma reached over and turned off the television.  Turning around, he 
stared into Nabiki's eyes.
	"Go ahead."
	Nabiki blanched ... subtly.  Ranma had never failed to capitulate (at 
least partially) to her demands.
	"You really are pathetic, you know," Ranma continued, "You aren't
even a particularly intelligent or motivated in your avarice.  I mean,
really, you're just another fucking tool ... mindlessly pursuing wealth
like a rutting pig.  Don't you realize the people you _serve_ as well as
the people who serve _you_? Don't you _get_ it yet?  There are a million
people like you, with the same goals ... but far more ambition.  How much
money do you think you can extort from a bunch of fucking fourth-rate
loser shitheads?  How much can I be good for?  I have no particular source
of income, as you seem so fond of pointing out.  What do you want? 
Pictures of me naked?  Are you some kind of porn merchant, now?  Don't you
think there's better money to be made selling stock, or babies, or real
estate or something?" 
	Nabiki sat in shock for a moment, before regaining
her composure and responding, "My, Ranma, aren't _we_ in a bad mood!"
	"Fuck off, Nabiki.  Look around you... you're just a pathetic 
cog in a much larger machine.  What am I saying?  You're not even clever 
enough to see the machine for what it is.  Instead, you've sold yourself 
to it.  A whore to a rotting mass of stupidity, greed and shit.  No 
... I'm wrong ... you aren't even up to the standards of a whore.  A 
whore _works_ for a living, selling her dignity on her back.  You're a 
wretched parasite, passively feeding on the corruption around you. "
	Reflexively, Nabiki slapped Ranma, yelling, "Fuck you!" 
	Ranma smiled as the pain came.  "Face it ... you're not even 
interesting enough to really fail.  You're going to be mediocre  
forever.  Just like the rest of us." 
	With that, Ranma stood and walked out the door, and towards the road.  
With grace borne from a lifetime of training, Ranma Saotome stepped in 
front of a fast-moving truck, ending what had been a singularly 
unpleasant morning.