This story was inspired by the music video for I Could Be the One by Avicii and Nicky Romero. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Total Drama. I don't even own anything related to this fic.
Duncan regretted signing up for the show. Every day was the same. He'd wake up, fall out of bed, brush his teeth, perform the challenges for Chris, eat Chef's food, cross off a day in the calendar and plop back down on his bed. This has been going on for the past three years. No break from Chris whatsoever. Worse, some of the Total Drama fans were accusing Duncan of being a 'writer's pet', when it is usually Chris's fault that he gets so much screen time. Actually, the fans mostly hated him for bullying Harold and ruining the friendship between Courtney and Gwen, but Duncan couldn't give a shit about that.
"I think I hate my life," Duncan huffed, one day at the mess hall.
Sitting across from the delinquent was Alejandro, giving Duncan uninterested expressions. "Is it because you've finally realised that you're a dick?" he wondered.
"I'm sorry, WHAT?!" Duncan demanded, clenching his fists. Alejandro casually took a book out of his pocket and handed it over to Duncan.
"This book, it's helps me a lot," said Alejandro.
Duncan rolled his eyes. "I don't think I care I'm a dick!" he spat.
"Maybe you should have the rest of my brown slop as well," Alejandro suggested, dumping the contents of his plate into Duncan's plate.
Duncan scowled. "Maybe I shouldn't give a fuck," he muttered. Alejandro didn't hear him and left the table to put his plate away.
Duncan awoke and stretched his hand out to slam the alarm clock, but he felt a rubber material on his bedside locker instead. Duncan turned and looked over at the locker to see he was fiddling with a used condom. The shocked delinquent sat up on his bed. He realised he was not in the cabins in Camp Wawanakwa, but in a hotel room. He looked to his side to see Anne Maria lying next to him asleep in his bed. Duncan was confused. He got up, went up to the doors and opened them, revealing to him a balcony overlooking the beach and the Atlantic Ocean. It took Duncan a few seconds to register what was going on. He went up to a desk, noticed a sheet of paper and picked it up to read it. It read:
To do list:
1. Not give a fuck!
2. That is all.
Duncan was happy to finally have a holiday. He decided to start the day by going for a walk on the beach. The walked over Eva's sandcastle, ruining it in the process. Eva bared her fangs at Duncan, but Duncan responded by flipping her off. Duncan also went to a nightclub where he saw Jo, and they went on a cruise the next day. Later that day, they went horse-riding in the beach together. Duncan went to a strip club, where Katie went up to him and gave him a lap-dance.
Every evening, Duncan went to a restaurant down town, where Sadie was his waitress. Duncan decided to give Sadie a French kiss the next time she went up to his table, and he did. She enjoyed it as much as Duncan enjoyed it.
Suddenly, Duncan woke up to see Harold standing at the foot his bed.
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" Harold beamed. Duncan gave the lanky teen confused looks.
"What is doing on, Doris?!" he demanded.
"Don't you remember?" Harold questioned. "Chris took us all out on a vacation to the Algarve in Portugal, but it was too late when he realised that he could not afford it despite Portugal being among the cheapest countries in Europe to live in. So some the contestants such as Katie and Sadie got part-time jobs."
"I know that, dweeb!" Duncan scolded. "What I'm asking is, what are you doing in my room?!"
"We got married yesterday, remember?!" Harold growled. "Gosh! I told you not to drink too much alcohol at our wedding reception! IDIOT!"
"Wait… y-you and I… g-g-got… MARRIED?!" Duncan spluttered.
"Yes," said Harold. "There are photos and videos of our civil ceremony and our wedding reception on Facebook and YouTube respectively. You should check them out after our honeymoon."
"HONEYMOON?!" screeched Duncan.
"Yes, we're going to County Clare, Ireland, to see the Cliffs of Moher, Aillwee Cave and the Burren," said Harold. "It will be so romantic!" he swooned.
"HAROLD, I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU!" screamed Duncan.
"Then why did you marry me, then?!" Harold demanded.
"I dunno, I think I was drunk or something!" Duncan scolded. "That Izzy bitch must've spiked my drink while I was at the pub where she was working in or something!"
"Are you one of those sexist idiots that like to pick one sex over the other when it comes to relationships and sex?" Harold wondered.
"Yes, you got a problem with that?!" Duncan threatened.
"Well duh!" Harold replied. "You can't be gay or straight. It's sexist. It's like picking one human skin colour over the other, one nationality over the other or one set of human bodily dimensions over the other. It's discrimination that has to stop."
"I'm pretty sure straight and gay people are exempt!" Duncan rolled his eyes. "Is everybody on this planet supposed to be bisexual or something?"
"Of course not!" Harold replied. "Everyone is supposed to be pansexual! We have to be in love with all sexes, so there should be no concept of having different human sexual orientations. That's just wrong, GOSH!"
"There're only males and females," Duncan snickered.
"IDIOT, are you saying that hermaphrodites don't exist?!" Harold shrieked. "Curse this unjustified bigotry of yours, GOSH!"
Duncan scowled. "Even if I was pansexual, I still wouldn't think about marrying you, even if you were the last thing on earth, and that includes the air! I must've been very drunk yesterday."
"You must still be drunk now, because you mentally believe that the air has a legal standing," Harold lectured his husband. "It's physically impossible for the air to sign a marriage contract and develop romantic feelings, especially when you consider the fact that the air around us is by no means an organism."
Duncan had had enough. "Fuck this, I'm doing outside for some fresh air and a smoke!" he grunted, grabbing his lighter, a packet of cigarettes and his dressing robes and leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.
"Don't spend too long out there, the plane leaves for Shannon Airport in nine hours!" Harold shouted, assuming Duncan could hear him.
Apparently, Trent heard him. He opened the door and stuck his head in.
"Did somebody say NINE?!" he wondered.
I have no idea whether to just leave it as a one-shot, or make it into a multi-chapter story. I idea seems too good to use just for a one-shot, but I'm already working on My Big Fat Creepy Roommate, which has a similar concept in it. Let me know what you guys think in your reviews.