Forgotten Concerto:

First Chord: "Untitled"




God it was a boring day. Actually, boring month would be more accurate. There hadn't been a single damn thing for Spike to do, no bounties to chase, no food to eat (besides poor people's bell peppers and beef, and Spike hated that shit), and most importantly, no Faye to argue with.

Ever since she had come on the Bebop, all they ever did was argue. It was never about anything important, usually just "Spike, did you steal my cigarettes again!"

To which Spike would respond, "I didn't steal your damn cigarettes, now leave me alone!", of course saying this as he's lighting one of them up, which would send Faye into a rage. Spike never listened to what she was yelling about, but it was satisfying just knowing that he had annoyed Faye.

Well, like it or not, those little arguments had become an important part of Spike's routine, but since she had been gone for about a month, and since there hadn't been any decent bounties in two months, he was pretty much screwed as far as entertainment went.

"Jet, are there any bounties today," Spike lazily asked Jet, who was busy fixing the ceiling fan, which was made extremely difficult due to Ed coming up every thirty seconds and stealing one of his tools.

"No," Jet said angrily.

"Well why aren't there?" He asked as if Jet knew something he didn't.

Spike hit a nerve, "How the hell should I know!" Jet screamed, "I'm not the fucking bounty fairy! I can't just wave a wand and make a bounty appear!" He kept on screaming for about half an hour, but Spike wasn't paying much attention. He was more focused on Ed, who had taken the tools he stole from Jet and was in the process of trying to give Ein some cosmetic surgery. Ein sure was fighting back, though. He bit Ed on the wrist when she came at him with a hammer, and weaved his way through the barrage of nails that Ed was shooting at him. Ein may not look it, but he is one athletic dog.

Spike pretty much tuned Jet out after a while, although he did pick up the words 'fairy' and 'fuck' a couple more times.

Ed had just pounced at Ein, but the dog was quicker. He moved and Ed hit the ground hard, at which point Ein jumped up on her back and started biting her ear. That's when Ed gave up and just lye there, letting Ein chew on her ear. Spike lost his entertainment, so he started listening to Jet again.

"...you get me, you lazy, good for nothing fucks! All you and Faye ever do is-"

Spike interrupted, "Where is Faye, anyway? She's been gone for a month."

"I don't know and I don't care," Jet answered, "just one less free-loader." Spike knew Jet well enough to know that he really was concerned, but he also knew Jet well enough not to let him know that.

"Whatever," Spike ended the conversation and turned on the TV. 'Big Shot' was on.

"Howdy buckaroos," Punch exclaimed, "and welcome to Big Shot!"

The camera switched to Judy, "The show that tells all about fugitives!"

"Shucks Howdy! First up is this woman," Spike wasn't surprised when the picture on the screen showed a purple haired, very annoyed looking woman, "Faye Valentine. It's this tough cookies second time on this show."

"Wow," Judy jumped in, "she must be good at gettin' on people's bad sides."

The camera switched back to Punch, "Yep, but she's not in that that deep a' trouble. The bounty's only 2000 woolong. Shucks Howdy! It's time for a commercial!"

"So that's what happened to her," Spike looked behind him to see Jet, carrying two plates of bell peppers, "wonder what she did."

"Who cares, it's her problem," Jet looked at him funny, but didn't say anything.

"Here's your bell peppers and beef." He sat one of the plates down in front of Spike.

Spike took it, "Would you stop calling it that? It's NOT bell peppers and beef, it's just bell peppers, and I hate it." He complained as he took a big bite.

"Quit complaining," scolded Jet, "be thankful you've got somethin' to eat at all."

"I'll be thankful when we're rich." He turned back to the TV; 'Big Shot' had come back on.

"Welcome back, ya'll," Punch said, "now for the next bounty. It's another small fry, only 3000 woolong for this guy," a picture of a tall, well built man with a dark tan, black, shoulder length hair, reddish eyes, and a scar across his throat came on the screen, "Nail Razzamoff."

Jet turned off the TV, "Nothing again," sighed Jet, "well, looks like we're g-" Jet was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. He turned around to see Spike, who had dropped his plat. "You all right, buddy?" Spike was looking at the ground, breathing very hard.

"Spike, what's wrong?!" Spike was starting to shake, and sweat was forming on his forehead.


"No," Spike gasped, "he's supposed to be dead."





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