~Disclaimer: I don't own Chrono Trigger. If you didn't realize that, then
slowly step away from the computer. You might hurt yourself.
~A/N: This fic slips in and out of first and third person. First person is
the character's current pov. Third person is a flash-back thingy. Sorry if
it's hard to read, but that was just really the easiest way for me to
collect my thoughts. If enough flames are left to jumpstart my lazy butt, I
just may rewrite the whole fic.
Chapter 1: The (Fuzzy) Morning After
***
Let's just be clear on this fact: I'm not a morning person.
Really, just look at the sun! It's so bright and. . . sunny.
Wow, that was a really brain-dead statement. Like I was saying though, I do have my reasons.
I have insomnia. Contrary to popular belief, learning to cope with insomnia is pretty easy. You just work your ass off all night, trying to repair stupid robots that think they're gonna be the next 'American Idol', or a transporter whose idea of fun is sending an annoying princess to a different era. (Well, on that note, the transporter could flay annoying princesses for all I care, as they tend to irk you less when skinless. But I digress.) Anyways, sleep deprivation will finally catch up with you, and you learn not to wake up when crashing to the floor. As long as you ignore all other little distractions, like the sounds of other people living their normal, happy lives, or the pool of motor oil you currently inhabit, you can sleep soundly, usually through the morning.
* * *
Gods, those horrible beasts are making a racket out there. I wish they'd shut up.that's it. . . those birds are dead!
Geez. I don't think emptying a full clip into that tree was a good idea... she's moving!
"Lucca? What's happening?"
Damn her for waking up.
"Ooooh, it's such a pretty morning!"
Damn her for talking so loud.
"Wakey-wakey Lucca!"
Damn her for living.
"I'm trying to sleep, Marle. Please go away."
"Aw, why are you so grumpy? Come on, wake up and greet the day!"
It's so cold all of a sudden. . . damn her to hell!
"Give the blanket back now Marle or Chrono'll need a dustpan to pick up what's left of you."
That horrible grating noise! Why must she giggle so much?
"Wow Lucca! That was a great Magus impersonation!"
Impersonation. . . yeah. At least I got the blanket back.
"How can you waste such a beautiful morning?"
"Easily." Ooh, its warm under here.
* * *
Like I was saying before, I'm not much of a morning person. The sight of dew on grass doesn't fill me with joy, mostly because I usually stay up late enough the night before to see it form. But for once Marle is right. I am grumpy. My head feels like a hard-boiled egg and her nasally voice is cracking its shell.
There's a lesson here kids. Just remember, tequila is bad for you. The first shot may be heaven, but the twelfth or thirteenth (. . . fifteenth?) is hell.
Of course, I don't remember much after the tenth shot, so maybe it's a bit of an embellishment to call the last shot hell.
Anyways, back to the point. It's hard to resist a drink when the weather is cold and the tavern is hot. Besides, where else can one hear a moving rendition of the timeless song of love and loss that is "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall?"
I was weak; I gave into temptation. And boy was it fun. But now, I'm paying the price with a wicked hangover after consuming enough alcohol to kill a moose. A really, really big moose.
* * *
"Lucca? C'mon get up! Let's do stuff!"
Stuff? No, please God, not stuff!
"Marle, honey, please go away. I don't want to do 'stuff'. I want to sleep, or preferably die."
"Wow, you really are grumpy today! Oh. . . I know what'll make you feel better!!!"
"No, Marle, really."
"SHOPPING!!"
*Sigh* The dreaded S word. First she irritates me at the crack of dawn, and now she wants to shop. Could things get worse?
"Ooh, and while were shopping, I can tell you all about the interesting gossip I heard about a certain unnamed wizard, a 'magus' if you will, and his late night adventures!"
Yes, apparently things can get worse. Much, much worse. On the bright side though, it looks like Marle has finally mastered the double entendre.
Geez. . . how did I get myself into this mess?
Chapter 1: The (Fuzzy) Morning After
***
Let's just be clear on this fact: I'm not a morning person.
Really, just look at the sun! It's so bright and. . . sunny.
Wow, that was a really brain-dead statement. Like I was saying though, I do have my reasons.
I have insomnia. Contrary to popular belief, learning to cope with insomnia is pretty easy. You just work your ass off all night, trying to repair stupid robots that think they're gonna be the next 'American Idol', or a transporter whose idea of fun is sending an annoying princess to a different era. (Well, on that note, the transporter could flay annoying princesses for all I care, as they tend to irk you less when skinless. But I digress.) Anyways, sleep deprivation will finally catch up with you, and you learn not to wake up when crashing to the floor. As long as you ignore all other little distractions, like the sounds of other people living their normal, happy lives, or the pool of motor oil you currently inhabit, you can sleep soundly, usually through the morning.
* * *
Gods, those horrible beasts are making a racket out there. I wish they'd shut up.that's it. . . those birds are dead!
Geez. I don't think emptying a full clip into that tree was a good idea... she's moving!
"Lucca? What's happening?"
Damn her for waking up.
"Ooooh, it's such a pretty morning!"
Damn her for talking so loud.
"Wakey-wakey Lucca!"
Damn her for living.
"I'm trying to sleep, Marle. Please go away."
"Aw, why are you so grumpy? Come on, wake up and greet the day!"
It's so cold all of a sudden. . . damn her to hell!
"Give the blanket back now Marle or Chrono'll need a dustpan to pick up what's left of you."
That horrible grating noise! Why must she giggle so much?
"Wow Lucca! That was a great Magus impersonation!"
Impersonation. . . yeah. At least I got the blanket back.
"How can you waste such a beautiful morning?"
"Easily." Ooh, its warm under here.
* * *
Like I was saying before, I'm not much of a morning person. The sight of dew on grass doesn't fill me with joy, mostly because I usually stay up late enough the night before to see it form. But for once Marle is right. I am grumpy. My head feels like a hard-boiled egg and her nasally voice is cracking its shell.
There's a lesson here kids. Just remember, tequila is bad for you. The first shot may be heaven, but the twelfth or thirteenth (. . . fifteenth?) is hell.
Of course, I don't remember much after the tenth shot, so maybe it's a bit of an embellishment to call the last shot hell.
Anyways, back to the point. It's hard to resist a drink when the weather is cold and the tavern is hot. Besides, where else can one hear a moving rendition of the timeless song of love and loss that is "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall?"
I was weak; I gave into temptation. And boy was it fun. But now, I'm paying the price with a wicked hangover after consuming enough alcohol to kill a moose. A really, really big moose.
* * *
"Lucca? C'mon get up! Let's do stuff!"
Stuff? No, please God, not stuff!
"Marle, honey, please go away. I don't want to do 'stuff'. I want to sleep, or preferably die."
"Wow, you really are grumpy today! Oh. . . I know what'll make you feel better!!!"
"No, Marle, really."
"SHOPPING!!"
*Sigh* The dreaded S word. First she irritates me at the crack of dawn, and now she wants to shop. Could things get worse?
"Ooh, and while were shopping, I can tell you all about the interesting gossip I heard about a certain unnamed wizard, a 'magus' if you will, and his late night adventures!"
Yes, apparently things can get worse. Much, much worse. On the bright side though, it looks like Marle has finally mastered the double entendre.
Geez. . . how did I get myself into this mess?