WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS NOT NEW. IT HAS BEEN EDITIFIED x2.
"GAAAARRRJAOGJHHHHH!"
Brooke was sound asleep, dreaming of a nekkid, nekkid Ryan Reynolds, until she was rudely awakened by Micky's screech. She leapt up quickly and fell into ninja stance. "WHAT? What's wrong, Micky?"
She looked at her friend and her eyes grew large. Micky was shaking as if it was about -45 degrees Fahrenheit, like she saw a ghost, or like she was strapped to a nuclear powered blender. Or maybe even all three. Brooke shrugged and just thought she was having another meltdown until Micky pointed at something that was in front of her. She followed her gaze dramatically and froze immediately.
"Oh. My. Pudding."
Micky had definitely seen a ghost. He had sunken in eyes, and he was really, really pale and he had that weird white streak in his hair. If it were Micky, she would have some random poetic sonnet about his eyes seeing through your soul, or the white streak as a sign of purity or something. Or those high cheekbones. Holy crap, those cheekbones. Only one person in the universe had those kind of cheekbones, and that was...no way, Brooke. Don't even go there. Besides, this character looked really suspicious. And hot. But mostly suspicious.
Suspiciously so.
She tore her eyes away momentarily and looked around the room. They were in what looked like an old-style hotel room, one that had a pretty good-sized main room with one bed and a desk with a quill and some papers on it. A door led to what was most likely the bathroom and the other led into the hallway, she guessed. Looking up at Micky once more, Brooke opened her mouth to shut her up in advance, but…
Micky had already jumped up off of the floor and sauntered right up to the guy. She looked a little closer, hesitantly, as if he would kill her (which he probably would). The guy just stared back at her like she was a turtle that had sprouted wings and was flying circles around his head. She must've recognized something or other, because she gasped and looked over at Brooke. Then back at the Grumpy Skunkman. Back. Forth. Back. Forth.
"I...ah, I...aojfahaofjhominah!"
Brooke calmly scolded, "Micky…use your words so we can understand you." Micky twitched and whisper-yelled, "Do you have any fricken idea who this fricken is fricken?"
"Ummmm...a kind of shmexy looking guy who looks like he was to kills us and boil our souls and also happens to suspiciously resemble Johnny Depp?" Skunkman raised an eyebrow. "Johnny what?"
"Who what where when why to what extent?"
Brooke put her hands on either of Micky's shoulders and shook her wildly. "Simmer, Micky. Don't make me use my Mace again." She could tell she wasn't getting through to her, so she slapped her hard across the face. Micky shook her head and muttered, "Thanks." All was silent for about 2 seconds.
"Hey, I remembered what I was gonna say!"
Micky happens to have the attention span of a twig.
Rubbing her temples, Brooke mumbled, "What?"
Circling her with one hand on her chin and the other hand behind her back (a classic pondering position), Micky asked Brooke, "Do you remember what we were doing last night?"
Brooke groaned. "Yeah, we passed out singing No Place like London while watching Sweeney Todd at my place. I kind of find it sad that we couldn't make it past the first song."
Totally disregarding her, Micky belted out, "Seems a downright shame!" Skunkman looked at her and inquiringly replied, "Shame?" Micky squee-ed frantically, waving her arms all over the place. The taller brunette rolled her eyes. "Um, wrong song, but you were saying…?"
"Oh, yeah…ummmmm…hold on...oh, yeah! Do you know who we are currently looking at?"
"Um, are you talking about Grumpy Skunkman?"
"Excuse me!" Skunkman intervened. Brooke turned and glared at him, yelling, "You know, if you were a Honey Badger instead of a Skunkman, you wouldn't care as much!" He stared in silence at her, until:
"Whut." Brooke facepalmed and gestured at Micky to carry on.
"Brooke Slobe-a-don…we are speaking to FRICKEN Swee—Sw-Ssss…" She passed out before she could finish. Brooke glanced at the heap of Micky at her feet, then looked up and said in confusion:
"I…don't know how to respond to that, if I'm completely honest."
I'm going through and editing these chapters AGAIN. But I think I'll try and finish the story before I work on that. Well, besides this chapter, obviously…
Bow-chika-wow-wow!
~MickyinBoots