A/N: Okay I'm not really going anywhere with this one. I just love the Mort character and I wanted to give this a shot. Just in case you didn't know, Mort is the main character of the movie that we see at the beginning (semi normal), Shooter…well if you've seen the movie you know who that is and he's seen in this story as Mort wearing the hat, and Morton is the nerdish version of Mort that takes over at the end of the movie. Okay so with that out of the way…here we go…
What Should I do Today
Mort Rainey sat on his old comfortable couch, a bag of Doritos nestled under his arm and a can of Mountain Dew on his coffee table. He knew he was going to spend this day the same as the day before and the day before that, being the tired sloth that he had become, lazing about his cabin in his ratty old robe. He found that he lived his life like this by telling himself that he would get up soon and work on the story that had been in production since he and his wife, Amy, split up six months ago. Mort grimaced at the thought of her, the thought that because of her, he had been reduced to this. It was then that he decided he was actually going to do something today. But what would that be?
Now that he thought about it, there wasn't much to do. He lacked a T.V. or any kind of hobby besides writing when the inspiration finally struck him. Mort didn't feel any inspiration coming on in the near future, so that option was already out. He wondered if he should go to town but then thought about how the people always regarded him with strange looks and rushed coversation when he tried to venture out. Tashmore Lake was a pretty secluded place and he would have to drive out to New London to find any kind of entertainment anyway.
With a heavy sigh, he set his bag of Doritos down and leaned back against the couch, subconsciously rubbing his upperlip in thought. Instantaniously, another body joined him on the couch, the darker version of himself called Shooter. Shooter was wearing the wide brimmed black hat as always and cast him a dark gaze.
"I know what'll keep ya busy today, pilgrim," Shooter said in his thick southern drawl.
"Not you again", Mort sighed, raking a hand back through his messy hair.
Shooter produced a shovel from the other side of the couch and fondled it with a malicious smile, "How about we call ol' Ted up here and…"
"Goodness no!" a slightly higher, accentless voice admonished. Mort turned to see his other counterpart, Morton sitting beside him wearing a sweatervest with his hair combed back and neatly in place. "Mort, we should really be working on that story, see I think I have some new ideas…"
"Don't listen to that bookworm, Mr. Rainey", John Shooter interrupted, "You know you wanna pick up the phone."
"Guys really, I don't need your help," Mort said, feeling exasperated.
"Or- or maybe we could brainstorm," Morton continued, "We could always go to the library…"
"Don't you ever shut yer yap?" Shooter spat, annoyed. He turned back to Mort, "You know, I can start a big ol' fire with a champagne bottle."
"Ooh! You could call that girl from the post office", Morton said eagerly, "She seems to like us."
"How 'bout we play shut up and leave me alone?" Mort suggested irritabely. He folded his arms and sunk further back into the couch. As his other personalities quarrelled, Mort was struck by a fantastic idea.
He sat up with a sly smile on his face, "Hey guys", he said in a cheery voice, "I came up with a…a sort of game we can play."
The others looked at each other and then at him before asking in unison, "What?"
"You stay right here and I'll be back," Mort told them before rolling over the back of the couch and bounding up the stairs.
Mort entered his bedroom and pulled pulled out the first drawer of his dresser. The item he was after was not there so he tried the next. He let out an "Ah ha" as he found a black bandana at the bottom of the drawer. He stuffed it into the pocket of his robe and pulled open the door to his closet. He took out the most tattered shirt he could find that he was sure he wasn't going to wear again and tore a long strip of the fabric off. The material was also balled up and shoved into his pocket.
Having what he was after, he slipped on some shoes and his black beanie and hurried back down the stairs. Shooter and Morton were still on the couch, waiting for him expectantly.
"Stand up and turn around…both of you", Mort ordered.
The personalities did as they were told and Mort tied the bandana over Morton's eyes. He squeaked in surprise and Mort hushed him, telling him it was all part of the 'game'. He tied the strip of shirt fabric around Shooter's head as he growled in frustration.
"I don't believe I have time for your little games, Mr. Rainey," Shooter drawled in a dangerously deep voice.
Mort wasn't phased, "Then you'll make time. Come on."
Mort shrugged off his robe, replacing it with a faded red jacket and grabbed his car keys. He guided the others out the door and into his screened in front porch.
"This is the tricky part", Mort warned as he swung open a squeaky door, leading to a short bit of stairs, "Watch your step."
He ushered Shooter safely down the stairs and told him to wait. Morton fumbled a little, almost tripping but Mort helped to right him and led him down the rest of the way. Mort unlocked his car and told his other selves to get in the backseat. He hastily took the driver seat and turned the key in the ignition. He pulled out of his muddy driveway and headed down the dirt road away from his cabin.
Morton fidgeted a bit, "Where are we going?" he asked.
"Ah, that's the game", Mort replied, grinning to himself, "You're not alowed to know where we're going. When we get there, I'm going to let you both out and whover guesses where you are first, gets the prize."
Shooter huffed, "What's this so called prize?"
"All in good time," Mort answered, steering them down the bumpy road into the woods.
After a good long while, Mort had them deep into the woods while the others were still oblivious to their surroundings.
Morton tapped the seat with his hands, making an anxious little beat.
"Would you lay off the drums, music man?" Shooter all but yelled at the poor man.
"Oh…sorry," Morton said, a bit discouraged and ceased his drumming.
Mort didn't really pay attention to the two bickering like children in the back but concentrated on gettting good and far away from the cabin. He kept driving for another half hour and pulled the car to a stop. They were so deep in the woods by now that it looked like dusk from the lack of sun peeking in through the trees.
"We're here!" Mort called back excitedly.
"Yay!" Morton cried as he reached for the car door.
"About dang time," Shooter added and pushed his door open as well.
Mort watched anxiously as the two got out and stood alongside the car. He gave them one last glance before gunning it as fast as he could down the narrow road.
Morton and Shooter were left standing in a cloud of dirt. Morton peeked out from under his bandana and his eyes grew wide. He nudged Shooter with his elbow and he removed what was hiding his vision. After taking a good look around him, Shooter tossed the scrap of shirt to the ground angrily and cursed.
Morton bit his lip and looked up, noticing that he could barely see the sky through the trees. He then looked down the road, seeing that Mort's car was already far out of sight. Scratching his head, he looked back at Shooter and said rather matter of factly, "Ya know…I think he left us here on purpose."
Mort rocketed down the road until he was sure that he was well out of sight. He laughed until his stomach hurt, wiping away the tears that had escaped his eyes. "Well at least I'll be able to sleep tonight," he said to himself, "I actually did do something today!"
A/N: Yea I know it was kinda pointless but like I said, this was kind of just a spur of the moment type thing. This was my first time writing for Mort on Fanfiction so tell me what you think! :D