DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothing.
A/N: Wow, I'm lazy. This is my first story in a long time. It's a comedy/tragedy thingy. Short first chapter. Enjoy.
WALLS SAY POISON
Christian sat in his bed, cold as usual. It seemed to him most days that it would never be warm, not entirely anyway. He could always predict the weather when he woke up, without having to force his wandering eyes towards the window. Rain. The type of rain it would be was the puzzle. Pounding or sprinkiling? Drizzling or storming?
"Sprinkiling." Christian muttered, then turned over to stare out the small window. It was pouring.
"Pouring." Christian sighed and then sat flat on his stomache, head resting comfortably on his elbows.
"What? Not again." Christian groaned and stood up off his soggy bed, wondering if he had wet the bed again, or if it was rain that had leaked through some hole. He wrapped his arms around his waist and slowly bent toward his bed. Sniffing, he backed away quickly. He had wet himself...for the third night in a row.
"Stupid child." He insulted himself, throwing his last clean blanket in a pile with the other dirty sheets. 'Must wash sheets, or at least buy some god damned newspaper.'
"Christian...Christian, over here!" the green faeries beckoned to him from her bottle advertisement. Christian waved at her.
"Sorry love, not today. I need to work." Of course he wasn't talking to the damn faerie, he just fancied that it would be fun if he could.
"But you love me Christian! Drinky drinky." Her laugh rang through Christians mind like a lovely bell. He walked over to the lone bottle and turned it over, so that the back faced him.
"Drinky drinky later. I must get that short story finished for that newspaper. I wet the bed again."
The faerie laughed at that remark, then was silent. Christian was suprised at the clarity of this dreamed up conversation, wondering if it had actually occured. He slowly walked toward the bottle and kicked it over. The green faeries familiar painted smile stared back at him, frozen. Of course the conversation was imagined. Of course.
Christian began to pull on his dirty brown pants over his waist when he heard a loud ripping sound.
"No...oh god, no." Christian turned around and stared at his behind. A giant hole proudly displayed his grey undergarments.
"It's a rather nice behind, Christian. Very round...like an apple." Christian had smiled when Satine had told him that not to long ago, and she had laughed her lovely laugh and spanked him playfully. Christian imagined that if Satine had seen him now that she would have made a smart remark, like she always used to.
"My last pair of pants." He sighed and took a broom from the corner of his room. With a snort, he began to bang on his roof with the bottom end of his broom.
"Toulouse? Toulouse! I need to borrow some pants!" He yelled up at the ceiling. After a few moments silents a pair of pants was thrown down at him through a hole in the corner of the ceiling, left there unrepaired after a party Toulouse had had. Christian muttered up a thanks and struggled to fit into the trousers without ripping them. He succeded, but had to walk slowly to keep from ruining them, too.
The rain pounded harder onto the thin greenish glass of the apartments small window, sounding like a thousand can-can dancers performing a routine just for Christian. Christian knew he had to get to work soon, but it was ever so monotonous. How many people actually got pleasure from reading about the amazing effects that rotten tomatoes could have on the human mind?
But he couldn't lose the only job he had now; it had taken him months just to find a decent paying newspaper company, and he really didn't feel like looking for another job at the moment. 'The Moulin Rouge', his book, had failed him. He had written their story, but the people had taken the novel and turned it into another dime-store piece of dung.
"Downtown." he said to himself, reaching for his jacket. He needed to walk around; being here was giving him a headache.
"Lazy bum." the green faerie had to add her two-cence in. "Lazy, stupid, stinky penniless writer. Penniless! And a writer!" she laughed evily.
"You're funny, you know that? A real laugh." Christian scowled at the thing and made his way out into the hallway. He paused to adjust the tight pants he was wearing and then continued onward.
When he reached the outside world, it was still raining, though not as much. Christian passed by numerouse stands selling useless trinkets; wooden dolls, hats, even one selling birds in cages. Christina felt sorry for the birds. They were forced there to try and look pretty, just so the seller could make a lousy dime. Dirty money.
"You thought you would get off easy, huh punk? You thought you could just walk away from it all and leave it unfinished?"
At first Christina thought it was just his damned imagination bugging him again. He would have just ignored it if a short man hadn't pushed him against the brick wall next to him. Christian felt the wind get knocked out of him, and he struggled to breathe as the man pushed his shoulders harder into the wall.
"What-who are you?" Christian managed to whisper. The man glared at him, then suddenly smiled.
"Bonnie. Bonnie Harte. Sorry if I hurt you, that's just my way of getting customers attentions. You looked troubled, so I wanted to give you my card. Here it is, read it and give me an answer, it could change your life forever! Or at least until you die." The man spoke really fast, and Christian had to think for a couple of seconds before he fully comprehended what the man had just said. Bonnie pulled out a card from his pocket and thrust it into Christians palm, then stood with his hands on his waist.
The card read:
TROUBLED WITH HORRIBLE MEMORIES? WANT TO MAKE THEM ALL JUST GO AWAY? WELL, NOW YOU CAN IN A SNAP!
An address and other information followed at the bottom of the card. Christian got up off the wall and threw the card back at Bonnie.
"Sorry, no. I'm really busy and I...have to go somewhere." He started to walk off when Bonnie grabbed his sore shoulder again.
"Everybody's always going somewhere. C'mon! Don't give me that crap. Everyone's got some sort of memory they want to erase. Everyone who's human. C'mon, let's take a walk over to my place, you look cold." He grabbed Christians elbow and they headed in the opposite direction from Christians apartment.
This guys nuts. Don't go with him. Christian walked silently beside the man, wishing he could somehow break free of his mysterious grasp. But he couldn't, so they walked onward.