Theatre of Robots
-x-
-
Common sense said not to stand outside in the middle of the pouring rain.
-
He didn't like common sense.
-
So naturally he was standing outside in the middle of the pouring rain.
-
--
-
Time can mean everything, and time can mean nothing. It all depends on who you are and what you've been through. For the man with porcelain skin and hair like a raven's feather, it meant nothing.
The tragedy they write about in books, show in movies, and exaggerated in television – it all stems up from somewhere, blooming like a beautiful flower to the public. Hidden by all other eyes is the underneath, where the roots criss and cross underground, covered in dirt and wet mud. It's the real tragedy, and it isn't beautiful.
Pain. 'Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional'. Sometimes; sometimes the pain was so strong, that it made the choice for you. What then of the options? There was none.
None? No, there was one. 'People who drink to drown their sorrow should be told that sorrow knows how to swim.' "Well, excuse me Ann Landers, but fuck you." Alcohol was the escape. It was how he exited the real word. It wasn't the refuge though.
The refuge came in a different form. Because it was one thing to get away, it was another to go somewhere else. 'Somewhere else' was the important part. If for one moment – one second – he could get away from the torment, then he could survive. Survival was all he could give to those who died. They left him to live; he would have to continue doing it. LSD would help him do it. Yes; yes, alcohol would let him leave, and LSD would help him arrive.
'How does it feel when tears freeze when you cry? The blood in your veins is twenty below!' Hypothermia – unnoticeable side effect. His body temperature could drop as low as it wanted to for all he cared. Goosebumps, increased heart rate, perspiration. Now we're talking. Pupil Dilation – isn't that always the case? Saliva and mucus production – ah, well, it wasn't like he'd be around to notice it. Sleeplessness – hahaha, did you think he slept well anyway? Hyperreflexia - the price of being a nutcase meant looking like one. Tremors – just the same as the ones he got during his nightmares, the ones that haunted him even when he was awake. Synethesia – he wasn't sure what that one meant, actually. Ah! Wait, here it is -- Euphoria.
Euphoria. Euphoria is a medically recognized emotional state related to pleasure and happiness. Now, doesn't that sound nice? Of course it does, that's why he does it. The pretty colors were just a plus. The unreasonable fear was too. Fear without a reason was better than fear with one.
So, he would be terrified. That cat was turning into a werewolf! Didn't you see its fangs? My, that ladder is so tall, and it's falling! It's going to hit you, sir. It's going to crash down and kill you! No, no she wants to cut my hair. Look at her; she's looking at my hair. She wants to chop it off and steal it! What's that wall doing breathing? It shouldn't be breathing, should it? "You stupid ass, what the hell is wrong with you? Can't you go find someone else to bother, you goddamn hobo."
'I actually live in a nice home'. Well, that's what he would have thought if weren't caught up in the moment of a seven hour trip. Drink till twelve. The injection at midnight. The trip lasting till after dawn. A long nap for the rest of the day, a hot shower once awake, and a nice drink to start the afternoon. Simplicity, it was nice, wasn't it?
"This, dear friend, is the good life." He said it kindly to his fourth bottle of beer.
--
You'll make it up, you'll tell a lie.
Pretend you're real, go on and try.
--
Oh, she was very pretty. Tall and lean and pretty. Her smile was wide, her eyes were clear, her hair was long. She worked lots of hours and she made not enough to pay her rent on time, but she added peanut butter chunks to those delicious chocolate chip cookies when she gave them to the landlord, and he'd let her off for the extra week she needed. Peanut butter chunks; fine way to any man's heart, it was.
"Tenten." The name was sung by a fellow worker, and she looked up from her papers to glance at the singer.
"Yes?"
"I'm afraid we've reached a dilemma with the Uchiha case."
"Which case was that? I'm afraid my head is full of boxes, and you'll have to help me pull this one out."
"The client's name is Sasuke Uchiha. His parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents were murdered on Christmas Eve."
"Murdered by whom? Surely they caught the fiend!"
"Surely they did, Tenten. It was Itachi Uchiha, Sasuke's very own brother!"
"My, oh-my, how horrid."
You know, I think this Christmas thing;
Is not as tricky as it seems!
And why should they have all the fun?
It should belong to anyone!
"Horrid indeed. We've been taking care of Mr. Uchiha for one month now, but it seems he's stopped attending sessions."
"How many sessions has he missed?" the brunette questioned, tapping her pen softly onto her desk.
"Three, Tenten. He's been out of contact for three weeks now."
"How was his recovery before he left?"
"Growing worse with each and every day."
"I shall pay his house a visit tonight then."
"That sounds best, but I must give you one warning."
"Warning? What ever might that be?"
"Do not look into his eyes, for they are burning coals, and the most splendid sight for the sorest eyes to see. A woman, even one as great as you, would certainly lose her mind."
--
Praise yourself. It's all okay, it gets easier, it gets easier.
--
Ah, ding-a-ding. Oh, dong-oh-dong. Ah, ding-a-ding. The sound of the doorbell cascaded through the house, much like the waves of the angry sea would. Much like the charging army as they stormed the front. Much like scream he emitted when it was late at night and no one around would be able to hear.
"Oh, who bothers me?" the man inside grumbled, placing his bottle of whiskey down on the table beside and checking his watch. "Six o'clock? Perhaps a date for dinner!" He laughed humorlessly, and stumbled out of his seat, travelling to his front door. Hike to the door now, yes, hike to the door now.
"Who is it?" he called out loud, just one second before opening the large wooden door.
"Tenten Tai, Mr. Uchiha. I hail from the Mental Recovery Institute at Konoha Hospital, where we fear for your health," the woman at his door confessed.
Hey are you okay?
You look pretty low, very handsome awkward.
He said nothing. She waited patiently. He said nothing. She waited patiently. He said nothing.
"Mr. Uchiha?"
"Why do you carry your hand over your forehead so?"
Do you feel okay?
You look pretty low, very handsome awkward.
"Ah. Well, you see Mr. Uchiha; on my way hear I passed a few German folk who played their instruments with pride and joy. But I fear that their dreams may be a tad askew, as their talent clearly lacked. The cacophonous noise has poisoned my head, and I regret to say the ache has settled. I keep my eyes closed, for they are sensitive to the light."
"Perhaps you should see a doctor."
"You were a doctor, before that tragic night, were you not?"
"I was."
"Do you wish to become one again?"
"No."
"Mr. Uchiha—"
"Mr. Uchiha was my father. I am young, at twenty-five. Sasuke is the name I would prefer."
"Sasuke… we would be greatly relieved if you would return to Wednesday sessions."
"I will return."
"You will return you say?"
"I did say."
"Ah. Well, thank you Sasuke. We look forward to seeing you once again."
The door was closed, for he had not bothered to tell her good bye. No, he had gone back inside, thinking of his Whiskey, thinking of his lie. "Return? No, that I shall not."
--
So take your pills - so take your pills - blur your life.
Forget you were ever there, to enjoy the ride.
--
Then sun had left them. The moon had taken its place. Tonight it was half of one - to some it was still half there. But to some it was half gone.
Tenten had danced out of her clothes and into her night gown, plain black silk with plain black trim. Her hair tumbled out of its pins, and she ran a brush through her the long curls, staring into her mirror.
'I will return'. Of course that's what he said, but oh, that would never mean it was the truth. Perhaps if she had been able to look into his eyes while he spoke, she might have been able to know. But she hadn't – she took a word of advice, one that said to not look into his eyes. Ironic. Ironic, because now she knew if she wanted to know whether what he said was valid or not, she'd have to gaze into those eyes. Burning coals? Surely, she would not lose her mind at that!
Without another thought – not a thought, no, not a thought – she slipped on her old brown boots, which felt coarse on her feet without pantyhose and sock. She grabbed her matching silk robe, and wrapped it around her – not a thought, no, not a thought – before avoiding a glance in the mirror that would knock her back into right senses. Then she dashed out the door, no, not a thought.
--
And bite your lip - and bite your lip - swallow your pride.
How long has it been for you, since you felt alive?
To wave, goodbye.
--
As the hour following midnight progressed, the dosage he had put into his blood had begun to work its tricks. First had been his bed. Did that bed have a mouth? My, it looked like it had teeth. It looked like it was going to eat him. Quickly, he fled from his room, fled from his house, fled from his sanity. Second was the movement. Well, the feeling of it that had disappeared actually. He couldn't move, but yet he knew he was! How horrifyingly splendid.
On the streets, walking aimlessly, that's what it looked like he was doing. But, actually he was aimed at quite a certain thing. Right there in front of him was a light. No, silly! Not a normal light, not a normal one at all. This one was blue, and yellow, and orange, and red, and pink. It looked like a sphere, but a second later it was a cube. It was travelling along the streets, shooting sparks of color – green, purple, violet, lavender – and he could not help but chase after it, its beauty too intense to resist.
"Mr. Uchiha! Oh, dearest me, I mean Sasuke! Sasuke? Sasuke?!"
The voice was behind him, coming from down the street, but he paid no attention to it. All around him fountains were shooting off water, water of a deep purple color, and the only path he saw available to him was the one in front of him. The path the light was going down. He had to follow it, its beauty too intense to resist.
Did you hear me call your name?
Did you hear me call or were your thoughts just too loud?
Tenten had been watching as the man exited his house, practically running. What was wrong? Had he a nightmare? But he was laughing – yes, he was laughing loudly while running down the streets. Hesitant at first, for she knew not what to do, she stood there watching. But as he rounded the corner, she knew she must follow him. What ever in the Devil's name was going on, it looked like that man needed help – resisting the urge to go after him no longer, she charged ahead.
"Mr. Uchiha! Oh, dearest me, I mean Sasuke! Sasuke? Sasuke!?"
She tried calling after him, but he was not awake in the mind to hear. No, he definitely was not, as he continued to speed off. Oh god, what had gotten into his man? His running grew faster, and she began to have trouble keeping up. Oh, at this rate she'd lose him! No, wait. Wait. There was a street light at the end of the sidewalk, straight in his path, and he was running straight for it, it was straight in his path. Clunk. Right into it, he ran straight into it! Now he lay on the ground, half is body twisted towards the sky, the other lying still on the ground. Oh, she managed to run faster than before, and the second she reached his side, she collapsed down next to him.
His hands shook, and she cradled one in her own to hold. The other free hand she used to feel his forehead, which appeared to have an already apparent bump, and felt abnormally cold. "No, only corpses grow cold, this man is alive," she argued to no one. Yes, definitely alive. His hand still shook, the pulse behind his neck continued to beat. Yes, definitely alive. She looked around, her eyes darting – Ah! A man, on the other side of the street, watching them in shock. "Oh, you sir! Please, help me, sir. I need to get this man back to my apartment."
--
To wave, goodbye.
The pavement; it dulls your senses.
And visions of red and white, of solid steel, and flashing lights.
--
One shot. To the heart, it took his father down. Another shot. To the temple, it took his mother down. He was outside the house, returning from a midnight stroll. He heard the shots. He heard them, but he didn't run towards the house. No, he paused. Were those gunshots? And in that second of pause, he was frozen. A layer of ice spread around his left food, locking him in place. He looked down at it, horrified. It spread to his right foot, before slowly crawling up, as he attempted to kick and claw.
Three consecutive shots. The ice went up to his knees, hissing like a snake as it went.
Four more shots, separated by two seconds each. It reached his thighs, laughing like a hyena.
A scream followed by a shot. At his hips now, stinging him like a bee.
Two shots. It crept up his torso, as sly as a red fox.
Four shots, erupting almost at the same time. The frost was up to his chest, as stubborn as a mule.
One shot. Now covering his neck, as sharp as an eagle's beak.
The last shot. The ice that had started with one foot, and completely consumed him, covering his face so he couldn't breathe – couldn't scream. And it was as proud as a peacock.
I'm in line for the murder. First come fist served.
You aim for across the hall, your vision blurred.
Is this what you want from me, to hear me scream?
He awoke with a start, his eyes like empty dinner plates. 'Where am I?' He was on a blue couch –throb- that was not familiar to him. 'How did I get here?' All past nine o'clock was –throb- too vague in his mind, and while he was sure he had taken the LSD, he couldn't remember the experience. Now that was odd.
His thoughts were never much in his control. After the moments daze of waking up, the nightmare's images popped up into his mind –look at you! Look at how you stood there, not moving, while all of them died!
Alcohol. Alcohol. Alcohol. Alcohol. Where's the damn alcohol? Look at you! Look at how you stood there, not moving, while all of –throb- them died! Up, up from the couch he was, searching around in the barely lit room.
"Sasuke?"
Did someone just call –throb- his name? He turned, as quick as he could towards the voice. Maybe the voice would explain this to him! 'Who am I?' You're the one who is still alive, for whatever strange reason.
It was that woman from yesterday. The one with the headache. What was she doing here? Well, she stood in the doorway, placing down a few shopping bags, acting as –throb- nonchalant as the situation didn't call for.
He whirled back around, and sat down on this unknown couch, throwing his head into his hands. The nightmare was all too fresh in his mind and it –throb- was causing the dogs to howl, the babies to cry, the men to sneeze. Noise, noise, noise. Get it out all out – alcohol. Where's the damn alcohol?
"Sasuke, are you all right?" He could feel her hovering over –throb- him, her hands on his shoulders, trying to see if he was alright. Was he alright? Goodness woman, no of course he wasn't! If you saw and heard what he saw, you wouldn't be either.
"Where am I?" he grumbled. He used the palms of his hands to dig into his eyes, as if he could carve the images out – why, yes, it would be just like Halloween pumpkins. His mind was the inside of a pumpkin –throb- and all he needed to do was carve inside, and release the guts. Alcohol would be the knife.
"My apartment."
"How did I get here?"
"Ah, well you see, you were running around like a wild man. You ran straight into the streetend's lamp, and passed out. A man I did not know was kind enough to help me carry you back to here. Of course, that was last night, almost twelve hours ago."
"Alcohol." He could hardly hear what she was saying, he needed it. Needed it. Needed it!
"Alcohol? Are you saying you were drunk?"
"LSD," he muttered as a 'no'. Ha, what an interesting –throb- no, don'tcha think?
"Lysergic acid diethylamide!" she gasped. "Why are in earth were you on that?"
"I tend to be on 'that' a lot, Tenten Tai."
So these tears keep falling I'm drowning in my very own misery.
I'm sinking can't you see?
"Well that isn't good."
"Alcohol," he repeated.
"Oh, I'm sorry sir, but I don't have any alcohol."
WHAT!? Who doesn't have alcohol – the light bringer, the saint, the beautiful angel. –throb-
"I think we need to have a talk, Sasuke. I know of the tragedy that has befuddled your heart, but I cannot allow you to let it take control."
"Did you bring those German folk here? My head –throb- hurts me so."
"You avoid my question, and also know that of course I did not. Now there are matters to discuss. Will you look at me while I speak? I need to see if there is any truth in those hidden eyes."
With hopes to give her a ferocious glare, he removed the hands from his face, and looked up to her.
Do not look into his eyes…
"Your eyes," she breathed.
For they are burning coals…
"Bloodshot are they?" he countered dryly.
And the most splendid sight for the sorest eyes to see…
"Well, yes indeed they are, but."
A woman, even one as great as you…
"But what?"
Would certainly lose her mind.
"But they're beautiful. Someone with eyes like that mustn't waste their life away. You drink and you drink, and you inject and you inject, to try and take away the pain, but don't you see that those means won't ever cure you?"
"I'm not looking for a cure."
"No, you are not, and that is what the problem is. You put off the cure, but that is not what's best. Once you get the cure, you can move on, you can live."
"You know nothing of my pain." He shrugged her off, as if she were just an uncomfortable sweater worn on a hot –throb- summer day. Walking to the other side of the room, he held a hand to his head, willing the memory of that awful Christmas Eve night to go away.
"I know nothing of the pain, and you know nothing of the recovery," she told him squarely.
Living on this charming life, you can write the perfect setting.
But the story I'm not buying.
"It wouldn't be as simple as you seem to think."
"Of course not! Nothing in this life is simple; in fact most of it is hard. But you cannot use the tragedy that has forced itself upon you as an excuse to wither away so pathetically," she cried out – birds are chirping in the distance, horse-drawn carriages are driving in the distance, children are playing in the distance, they are happy somewhere in the distance.
"We could talk about this after you get me a bottle of beer."
"Or we could talk about this before I get you a bottle of beer."
"You would get me a bottle of beer?"
"Of course not, you idiot."
He turned back around, furious at the insult she just graced him with. The second his eyes lay on her, she –throb- gasped once again. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
"What did you call me?"
"I believe you know what I said. Please, Sasuke… the alcohol won't keep you at peace forever, and the LSD won't give you said forever. It is time you stopped that madness and realize what you're doing needs to stop. Poisoning yourself is not the key to whatever lock you hold."
"And you think you've got this key?"
She slowly walked over to him; her face fright with concern, her eyebrows curled with worry; she slowly walked over to him.
"Yes, I do. All my life I've been helping people, and now it is my very job and passion. You think you are alone, and that this Universe is against you, but it is not. There is hope, always there is hope. Hope is that key, and it is something I carry wherever I go."
"Your words are noble, your understanding is naught."
"Only because you refuse to let me in. Those eyes have seen too much, and that throat has drunk too much. Right this moment it burns and cries and it yearns. But you mustn't let it control you – would you have your dignity and your pride belittled by a cheap bottle of drink?"
"…No."
Her delicate fingers reached up to his face, a darling butterfly flapping its wings along his cheek.
"Would you have your mother weeping over the loss of beauty that the LSD presses onto you?"
"…No."
"Would you have your father distraught at the thought of a murderer for one son, and an addict for another?"
"…No."
"Would you have a future wife leave as soon as she catches a whiff of that stench on your breath?"
"No one would have me."
"I would have you."
--
So close your eyes, and lose this fight.
--
The throbbing in his head persisted, but it was the furthest thing from his attention. The ice over his pausing body melted, as did the nightmare's image on his mind. The memory of those shots and their ham and that Christmas Eve left his current concern. The desire for the taste of a cold beer was replaced by the desire for the taste of her warm lips.
"Who am I?"
"You're the one who was left alive, for this strange reason."
He lifted his hand to clasp the one she already had placed on his cheek, and clearing his mind of all thoughts - including the very ones that wondered what the devil he was doing – he leaned down to reach her soft, pink lips. Oh, she met him half way, reaching on her tip toes, stretching to the cloud nine. Not a thought, no, not a thought.
-
--
-
Common sense said not to fall in love with the tragedy-struck man.
-
She didn't like common sense.
-
So naturally she had fallen in love with the tragedy-struck man.
-
Playlist/Citation/Disclaimer:
LoveHateHero owns the "Theatre of Robots" lyrics that appeared in bold. I based the story off of this song.
The quotes in the beginning belong to an Unknown Author and Ann Lander.
The definition of Euphoria came from Wikipedia.
The lyrics for hypothermia belong to Escape the Fate's song "Not Good Enough For Truth In Cliche".
The lyrics for Christmas belong to A Nightmare Before Christmas.
At Sasuke and Tenten's first meeting, the lyrics belong to The Used's song "Pretty Handsome Awkward".
The lyrics during Sasuke's LSD trip belong to Ivoryline's song "Be Still and Breathe".
After Sasuke's nightmare are lyrics from Drop Dead, Gorgeous' song "Well, I Never Knew You Were So Much Fun".
The next lyrics belong to Scary Kids Scaring Kids' song "Sink and Die".
Last of the lyrics are Framing Hanley's "Count Me In".
I've never taken LSD & I don't own Naruto.
I don't know how this came to me -- but it did. Pretty weird?
Review!
