WOOOO! It's been so long since I've done any sort of Gorillaz fanfiction. It's good to be back. The following is a different take of the 'Prelude' in The Rise of the Ogre. ENJOY!
Disclaimer: Gorillaz © Gorillaz Partnership
Original text © Cass Browne
'Faust' © Gorillaz
'Faust'
"Shigoto no ato ni/ Me ga sameru/ Nani ka shinakucha/ Shigoto no ato ni."
Sebastian Jacob Niccals or Jacob Sebastian Niccals, depending on who you talk to, was a terrible, terrible, ugly man: long unhygienic fingernails, a long, nearly three-inch-long nose, repulsive green skin, and greasy, long black locks.
He lived a very dull life that mostly contained of alcoholic beverages: brandy, scotch, vodka, beer. He would get drunk, party, and sleep.
Jacob also had a son named Murdoc Alphonce Niccals. Jacob found him one day just when he was about to go to the good 'ol home away from home – the pub.
Jacob opened the door to find a black baby carriage with a raven perched on it. The raven was cawing at the baby, whose arm was waving in glee at the raven. Jacob shooed away the raven who cawed angrily at him, then flapping its wings furiously and flying away.
Jacob looked at the buddle of joy and scowled in contempt, "Not another blo'y one." He sighed and took the child inside.
The two of them had an awkward relationship. It's easy to say that the two of them were not 'mates'. In fact, Jacob spent most of his time at the pub and was only home when he had a hangover or wanted to get some sleep.
Murdoc looked at his dad who had just opened the door, "Home, Dad?"
Jacob spit on the floor and marched straight to his room, plopping down on the bed, groaning and bitching about his head.
Murdoc sighed.
Today was no exception. Jacob was forcing Murdoc to do one of the most degrading and reputation-killing acts known to mankind: perform in the local 'Are-You-A-Star?' talent contest.
He had threatened to do this to him before, but had never gone through with it, but today he was.
Jacob didn't listen to his son's cries and pleas. Nor did he listen to his curses and torments. He just stood there, staring at him, wishing that his son would just go away so that he could drink booze and bear all day at the local pub. The only reason that he carried this stupid child of his around was this – money. Kids can do anything for money: mow the lawns, cliché lemonade stands, walk dogs, that whole lot.
"Why do I have to do this, Dad? If money is wot you want, I could get a job or sumthin'! Please don't do this!" Murdoc was practically on his knees, beseeching his father.
Jacob stood there, cold as a statue, "You're doin' it." That was all.
Jacob didn't see that Murdoc was shaking on the side of the stage, his knees knocking together, silently praying that they wouldn't call his name so that he wouldn't have to go and perform in front of all of those people. Why was his dad doing this? Why did his mother leave him there with this foul, uncaring, despicable person?
'Why couldn't my mother bring me with her instead of dropping me off at the 'Alcoholics Anonymous' house?' Murdoc thought, fuming. He bit his lip, trying not to cry before going on stage and if his father saw him… it was curtains for him, literally.
Jacob grinned evilly and Murdoc nearly passed out when the announced said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please give a warm-hearted welcome to little Murdoc Niccals as the wooden boy Pinocchio singing… 'I've Got No Strings!'"
There was a small amount of applause. No one really cared about this little 'Murdoc Niccals', they just wanted to get drunk and have a good time… and maybe something to laugh at.
Jacob scowled seeing that Murdoc was rooted to his spot – he couldn't move. His legs felt numb and so did his fingers. The walls were swirling around him. Murdoc felt his stomach turn and held back the sensation to puke all over the floor.
The booming voice that he heard did not help, "C'mon!... Get on with it. My beer's getting cold."
Murdoc wanted to say that he didn't care that his beer was getting cold. His pride was about to get smashed in front of a crowd of drunken lunatics. Which was worse?
Jacob jerked his head to the right and spit, 'Why the bloo'y 'ell is he not movin'?' Jacob marched over there and spat at him, "Start singin', you li'le sod, or I'll smash your teeth in." He then sent him a sharp kick to his bottom that caused him to fly onto the stage.
Murdoc blinked, staring at all of the people in utter mortification. The bright lights shined onto his ridiculous costume – lederhosen, strap-on nose, and a feathered Alpine cap. He swallowed nervously.
The music began to start up and Murdoc looked at his dad, pleading with his eyes to be spared by this pride-killing performance.
Jacob snarled, "Sing, you li'le twit! I'll blo'y kill you if I don't get me money's worth!"
Murdoc turned away and looked down to the ground, sniffling. He tried to open his mouth to sing, but nothing came out. He coughed. His cough seemed to echo throughout the whole pub.
Jacob stamped his foot impatiently, 'What the blo'y 'ell is tha' twit thinkin'?' He gritted his teeth together, yelling furiously, "GET ON WIT IT!"
Murdoc took a big gulp of air, "I've got no strings to hold me down…" His voice broke. He inhaled and exhaled.
He stared at his father for reassurance. Jacob just gave him a look that said, 'Get on with it.'
"To make me fret, or make me frown. I had strings, but now I'm free…" Murdoc sang the stupid little gig and swayed nervously.
As Murdoc was singing, he saw someone pass out on their table. He bit his lip and continued.
"Hi-ho the me-ri-o, that's the only way to go. I want the world to know that nothing ever worries me," Murdoc stared at the floor. He could feel his face turn red hot – the humiliation was beginning to kick in.
What Murdoc really wanted to do was to run off the stage. He would run far away – far away from Stroke-on-Trent and anything that reminded him of it. He would go to Crawley, yeah! But, he knew that he couldn't do that. His father would beat him so hard, his other eye would turn red and his nose would be broken once more.
Murdoc continued the song against his will and when it was over, ran as fast as he could off the stage, past the announcer, past his father, and threw the emergency exit.
It was raining. He dashed out into the street and looked up at the sky.
Murdoc began to cry, his tears mixing in with the rain. He was crying so hard, that he didn't even notice his father come up next to him.
His father said nothing, but gave him punch to the shoulder.
Murdoc looked behind and saw that his father was gone.
Murdoc sighed, he was once again left alone.
'Might as well go,' he thought and walked down the very familiar lane to where his house was. He opened the door and trudged into his room, landing with a thump! on the bed.
He once again felt tears come to his eyes. He buried his head in the pillow and cried and plotted revenge on this world of buffoons.
"After a hard day/ It's time to wake up/ I need to make-up/ After a hard day."