Should I stay or Should I go? - Chapter 1 - Written by Miff
Noodle felt uneasiness as she stared longingly before the window being bucketed on by gallons of rain. The sound of thunder cracked against the shell of her ear. Her thin fingers smudged the glass as she draped them down it. Pelting raindrops dissolved the dirt of the hill that supported Kong Studios into thick mud, which practically eroded the building; she could practically feel it slide down the steep hill a foot or two beneath her feet. She had some sort of vibe that something bad was going to happen.
The great Kong Studio hadn't been touched or cared for almost a year. Murdoc had spent six months exploring the deepest trench of hell in search of Noodle. He found her lying beneath a patch of sooty rubble, barely conscious, and nearly dying from lethal gasses that had been emitted into the air. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms, as though she were an infant, and then plowed his way out of the blinding smoke and through an army of damned souls, armed with scythe until they reached their destination home.
Now, after 2D and Russel had been rounded up, Gorillaz needed to make some sort of comeback, one that would really shake the core of the earth. But there was still yet a bigger task at hand; fixing up Kong Studios. The place had pretty much been trashed and with Murdoc's attempts to sell it had failed, they had to repair it. This job was to be carried out by Murdoc and Russel because if 2D got his hands on any of those tools they'd all be in trouble.
In the corridor nearest to the lobby, Noodle could hear the others, apparently fixing a leaking ceiling and painting the walls. 2D was insisting on helping. Murdoc was standing on a high-rising ladder, that 2D apparently wanted to climb up on.
"Come on, Muhdoc! I'm no' a fucking child!"
"You are so, brainache, now get off the ladder, yer gonna hurt someone!"
Noodle heard a sharp clang sound, which was the sound of Murdoc dropping the wrench in his hand and trying to shoo 2D off.
"Get the fuck off the ladder!"
There was a rattling sound, followed by the sound of Murdoc yelping sharply in pain as he hit the cement ground. Noodle glanced over her shoulder to see what kind of ruckus could possibly be going on behind her. She gawked as she saw 2D, dangling from a pipe in the ceiling like a child on monkey bars, a confused and dumbfound look on his face, Murdoc sprawled on the ground, and Russel starring at the entire scene, a dripping paint roller in hand.
Murdoc stood upright, a fiery gaze in his eyes as he grabbed 2D by his skinny calves and yanked him to the ground. Gripping 2D by his collar, he landed continuous blows into the stunned singer's face until Russel sprang into action, grabbing both men by their collars and yanking them apart.
"Goddamnit, you two, can you behave yourselves!?"
Murdoc pointed an accusing finger against the vocal-dispensing-twit's nose.
"He started it!" He whined, like a young boy would say about his little brother.
"For shit's sake, man, you're in your thirties and forties!" Russel released his grip on their collars, dropping them both to the ground. "Start actin' like it!"
The large drummer plucked his paint roller off the ground, thick mahogany paint oozing from it, and handed it to 2D.
"Here, 'D," Russel instructed, his voice returning to its mellow, pleasant tone. "Go paint the corner over there."
A glare traveled to the bass player, who was already making his way back up the ladder.
"Hopefully, we can have some peace this way."
"It's his fuckin' fault." Came a mutter from Murdoc.
It came to Russel's attention that Noodle had been watching this entire time. He titled his head in concern to Noodle's worried expression.
"Hey, baby doll! Mind givin' us a hand 'ere?"
Noodle quickly turned away. This spiked worry into the big black drummer. He began to approach her; she remained to keep her back to him. He placed his large, heavy hand on her shoulder, smiling a bit.
"Wha's wrong?"
Not even Russel's comforting voice could put Noodle out of her tension.
"I sense some kind of unhealthy vibe, Russel-san." Her voice was so quiet, a combination of a whisper and mumble.
He could faintly hear her voice cracking beneath the murmur. Russel could understand. He knew that Noodle was still traumatized from her experience in hell.
"What kind?" He caressed her shoulder, trying not to put a whole lot of weight upon it.
Noodle wasn't quite in the mood to talk about it, even if it was Russel, the only person who really understood her. She reamined to keep her back to him.
"Something bad will happen, and it's going to tear us all apart."
Her breathing became a bit louder, to Russel it sounded almost as though she were breathing directly in his ear. He felt scared for her, but he didn't believe her. Maybe she was just thinking things that were induced from all the horrific images she had been forced to see in hell.
"A-are you not feelin' well, darling?" He asked.
Noodle frowned and nodded. Her stomach did hurt a bit, and she felt nauseated to a degree. Russel understood.
Another clanging sound was heard, accompanied by a splash.
"Aw, son of a bitch!"
The drummer spun around to find 2D lying on the ground this time, the dripping paint roller he had given him earlier in his hand, a bit confused as to what was going on. Murdoc on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on, and sure as hell wanted to kill someone for it. From the collar of his shirt to the waist of his pants was coated in paint. He shot murderous glare at 2D, and then lifted him up by his throat with both hands, clenching hard around the singer's twig-like neck, thrashing his empty head around. Russel heaved out a sigh and patted Noodle's shoulder with affection before getting the daily chore of breaking up yet another one of Murdoc's outbursts out of the way.
-
In a more distant part of Essex was a small gas station. The rain continued to dump on the city, the street was almost flooded, and passing cars were sending small waves of water onto the sidewalk. Next to the gas station was a small convince store, those kinds that sold quick items for the person on the go.
A familiar woman was standing nearby the automatic sliding doors. She had a full head of sleek, raven hair was even sleeker from the rain. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of shiny dark glasses, despite how hardly appropriate it was for the time of day. She had on a long, dark blue coat that stretched down to her knees. She drew a slim cigarette from in between her plump lips and grey smoke came curling through them.
She looked rouge and mysterious, and as she intended, unrecognizable.
She stood under the little space beneath the roof of building she was leaning on in order for the driving rain not to douse out her cigarette. She really didn't want to be out here, but neither did she want to be indoors either. It hardly mattered where she was. No matter where she went, people still wanted to spit in her direction. After all these years, she was still spat on for what she had done.
-
It was a Saturday night in Kong Studios in the year 1998. Paula Cracker lay on the floor, stark drunk, a clean empty bottle in hand. She was dazed laying perfectly still, letting the florescent lights above her head burn a hole in skull. She had been expecting her boyfriend, Stu, arrive soon. For hours she sat, impatient, playing Should I stay or Should I go by The Clash at full blast her bedroom. It was her song, their song. They both loved The Clash so much. You could say it was The Clash themselves that matched them together. Everyone thought that Stu and Paula had perfect chemistry.
Stu had been courting her for some time now. He was 20 and she was 23. They met in the summer of '97, at Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium, where he worked at the time and where she came in to buy some spare guitar strings for her prized Fender Telecaster. She had learned play guitar only a year ago, but being the fast learner she was, became a guitar virtuoso in the eyes of her friends.
She caught the eye of a certain store clerk, who watched her with a set of wide, brown, awestruck eyes from the moment she walked in to when she approached the counter, wearing a face bright with ambition. As he rung up her purchase, he started asking this young and beautiful girl a few questions about why kinds of music she liked. She went on to him that her all time favorite band was The Clash, how her dad nursed her on their music as a little girl, and all about how they inspired her to play guitar; all of which made the store clerk's dimwitted face light up like a freshly lit candle. He loved The Clash just as much. On the spot, he asked her if he could take her out sometime. She, though reluctantly, said yes.
The relationship did not take long to spark. Their love of music sewed the gap together, and by early August they were even living together.
About a month or so later Stu had been in car accident that caused a permanent fracture on his eye sockets and oh, he was now in a band! The obvious deformity left Paula in shock, but, she was happy for him, knowing his talent and charisma was not going to waste.
The same day, he informed her of the band's need of guitarist. He had gone to great lengths to convince Murdoc, the leader of said band and the man who crashed into him with his car, to let Paula audition. He, though reluctantly, allowed it.
The day Paula arrived at Kong Studios, she had brought her prized possession nestled in the guitar case which she kept gripped firmly in her hand. Her boyfriend greeted her with a hug and took her in back to the recording room. She strummed out a pretty impressive guitar riff from her favorite song by The Clash, 'Should I stay or Should I go', which Stu declared was 'their song'. Murdoc Niccals' callused finger flicked the 'off' switch the recording booth, and told she did a good job. Paula looked up, wondering whose rough, gremlin like voice had spoken to her, and caught sight ofthe man of her dreams.
This Murdoc Niccals was a skinny, rather foul smelling man with one discolored eye, sharp teeth and amazing, greasy black hair that drove Paula to her knees. There was something about that man that turned her on, kept her staring, longing. His bad boy personality and 'don't take shit from anybody' attitude beckoned her to him. Of course, Stu was sweet and romantic, but romance wasn't going to get him far with Paula's taste. From the day her hormones broke in, Paula wanted a bad boy; one of a kind, an animal in bed, who could excite her and never be predictable, all of which poor Stu couldn't even pretend to be.
The following week Paula received a phone call from Russel Hobbs, a big, black man bred from Brooklyn and the drummer, who let her know that she was in the band and that she'd be moving out of her flat in to Kong Studios. She was excited for sure. She was one step closer to that-sexy-badass-Murdoc-Niccals.
About five months passed since Paula became part of Gorillaz, (named 'Gorilla' at the time) and Paula and Stu's relationship took its turn for the worst. Since Paula moved in, her attraction to Murdoc was sparking brighter everyday. This made every night with Stu less romantic and passionate as it once had been. Stu hadn't the slightest presumption that Paula was falling out of love with him. He did everything to keep her satisfied. He was wildly in love with her, but she, mentally and physically, was pushing him away from her.
One fateful night Paula had confessed to him that she was beginning to fall out of love with him, but leaving her secret crush on Murdoc out of the details. Stu was completely torn. What had he been doing wrong? He loved her with all his heart and gave her the passionate love she wanted every night.
Stu came to the conclusion that he just wasn't romantic enough.
He looked at her square in the eye, said, "Paula, I want to prove to you that I can be the man you've always wanted. This Saturday night I'll give the best damn romantic evening of your life." He leaned in and pecked her lips. "And that's a promise."
And at first Paula thought there might have been hope for her and Stu.
But Stu had broken his promise. A few colleagues had invited him to go out drinking. Stu, being as slow witted as he is, had completely forgotten his promise to his girlfriend and went along with no hesitation. Almost a few hours into his time at the bar he had been challenged to a shot-drinking contest, which he accepted. After about 15 or 16 shots, Stu had, quite literally, washed out the memory of his promise to Paula.
Paula spent the lonely evening in her room, waiting long and hopeless hours, expecting her boyfriend to come in through the door and be the lover man she wanted him to be. He never showed. Paula was so angry and hurt that Stu broken promise that she had so stupidly believed he'd keep that she soon took out a bottle of wine she had set out in a cooler and start pouring herself a glass…
…that glass was followed by about 9 more until Paula had officially drunk herself silly. She was soon so delirious that couldn't even see straight. She had her Clash album, Combat Rock, cranked up to maximum that blared out the speakers of her steareo system. It was so deafening that it could be heard in every room in the studio, echoing and bouncing off of every wall, and waking a certain grouchy bass player.
Murdoc stalked up the stairs, apparently disturbed from a 'power nap' he had been taking. Sure, Murdoc loved the Clash as much as Stu and Paula did, but anyone who had the nerve to bother him with intent would certainly be in for one hell of a beating.
The door swung open, his nails digging into it, scanning the room for his potential victim. All he found was Paula, completely wasted, sprawled out all over the floor, laughing like mad. Murdoc made his way over to the drunken guitarist, bent over and yelled in her face.
"Wot the fuck is wrong wit you, bitch?" He asked with a harsh snarl, rather baffled at how she accomplished to make herself this way on her own.
"I'd as' the same queshun fo' you, arsehole." Paula slurred out, and she dizzily stood, barely able to keep a straight face as she, somewhat, glared at Murdoc with a goofy squint. When she was drunk, Paula made a complete transformation from wickedly clever to outright borish.
Murdoc titled his head, fully examining how vulnerable Paula was and soon got an idea.
Fuck, the dullard ain't here, and I could easily screw this bird senseless and get away with it, har har.
Paula's obnoxious voice had broken the silence.
"Why ya starin' at me like fucking retard?" She said in a barbaric voice.
Murdoc soon cracked a smile. "Say…Paula….would you like to play a game?"
Paula titled her head, continuing to hold her angry stare on Murdoc.
"You tryna play dumb wit me?" She asked before belching.
Murdoc only laughed. Heh, heh, she's so easy. This for sure will be fun.
"No. I'm just bored is all. You seem very bored yourself." He said coyly. "Here, ever played truth or dare?"
Murdoc knelt, A reluctant Paula followed his action.
He took the glass wine bottle from Paula's firm grip (much to her protest) and placed it on the carpet between them.
"Here's how you play, you spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on has two options--truth or dare—."
Paula waved a dismissive hand at Murdoc. "I know how to fuckin' play these games."
Murdoc smile became more devious as he reached down and took hold of the bottle. "Then this should be much more fun."
He twisted his wrist and the bottle began spinning. Just watching it spin so quickly made Paula even sicker, her eyes trying to keep up with its fast twirling. It finally froze and it had landed on Paula. Paula simply gawked at the bottle for a few seconds, and then looked up to make eye contact with Murdoc, who was smirking at the outcome.
He gave more of a sneer than a smile when he asked, "Truth or dare?"
"Well, shit, tha's an easy one! Dare!" (No pun intended) Paula exclaimed, her arms flailing.
Murdoc laughed a dark, deep-throated laugh that could send chills through the least expecting person. His dark eyes met Paula's, as the most evil of grins formed across his face.
"I dare you…" He tapped his lips with the tip of his prickly finger, "…to kiss me."
Paula's face twisted in disgust. "Yer a fuckin' pervert, I go' a boyfriend!"
Murdoc shrugged. "Tha's the dare. You called it."
Paula made a sloppy roll of the eyes. "One kiss; but if you try to fondle me, I'll skin yer arse alive, go' it?"
Murdoc grinned and nodded.
Paula inched a bit closer to Murdoc and wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a sloppy, yet passionate kiss against his lips. Murdoc let out a deep, low groan between their lips.
Paula's mouth moved a bit lower to his lower lip, sucking and nipping on it, as Murdoc gnawed on her upper lip. Paula thrust her tongue past her lips and began tangling with his long, more snake-like tongue. The two both moaned with desire as they entered each other's mouths. Murdoc caressed the inside of Paula's mouth as their tongues coiled around each other. Paula pulled her own tongue out of his mouth and let Murdoc caress her lips with his. He sucked on her lower lip before thrusting a firm kiss against her mouth. Paula pulled back, dangling onto Murdoc's neck and he just grinned at her.
"Yer a pretty fuckin' sloppy kisser, y'know." She told him.
Murdoc didn't care. "And you're a pretty fucking sloppy liar."
He then moved down to her neck and began running his long tongue against it. Paula's eyes widened and she punched his back.
"Oi! Tha' wasunt part of the dare!"
Murdoc nibbled on the side of her neck before saying, "This isn't either."
Paula shivered as Murdoc dug his sharp teeth into her neck. She a pleasured groan escaped from the deepest trench of her throat. Murdoc knew dead on that this is what she desired. And lucky for him, he knew the art of seduction like the back of his hand.
After all, he intuitively knew one of these days she'd come rapping on his door, wanting him badly, like any dumb bird would after their first glance of him, so why not now?
Paula gripped Murdoc's hair and began to yank at it, trying to make him stop, but this only made Murdoc dig his teeth deeper into her neck. Paula moaned yet at the same time beat her fist against Murdoc's back, trying to force him to stop.
"You fuckin' bastard! If my boyfriend sees wot yer doin' he'll…he'll…ohh, god…" Paula couldn't finish her sentence; she was too aroused by Murdoc's touch. Murdoc pulled his head up and glared at her.
"He'll do wot? Nothin' but cry about it, that's wot," He sneered. "Face it, you wanted me all along. I know these things. Stu ain't gettin' the job done, so you needed me to take his place. You chose wisely."
Paula winced as she felt his icy cold fingers make their way into her dressing gown. She trembled. All her senses, numb from so much alcohol, came back to life at Murdoc's desirable touch. She decided to let her guard down now, and let Murdoc take over.
"Tha's more like it." He chucked darkly as pulled her panties completely down. Paula shivered at the cold air in the room touching her sensitive area. Murdoc hooked his arms around her back and thighs and lifted her up. The florescent lights above her head glinted against her eyes, which were full of confusion.
"C'mon, we're goin' to the toilets." Murdoc said in a rather commanding voice. Paula didn't protest.
At around 10:00 at night the drummer Russel Hobbs had come home from a round of grocery shopping. Two large brown paper sacks chockfull of food (Most of it being for him) pressed against his chest as he came out of the pelting rain. He looked around the lobby of the studio using his completely pale eyes to light his way. He flipped the light switch on with his thick finger only to see there wasn't anyone here.
"Yo, Muds! Paula! Stu! Anyone?!" He called. His voice echoed across the halls without an answer.
Russel dropped the bags in his strong arms on the nearest table and he looked for his band mates. He saw no one. He heard none. He stood in dead silence for a few seconds until he could hear the faint sound of someone moaning. It was stifled, but he heard it loud and clear.
Russel cringed when he heard it. The sound was reminiscent of someone in pain. The drummer ventured down the corridor toward the toilets door. There is where he found the very source of the sound. The voice making the sound was so familiar. Faintly, Russel could hear a low groan sound against it, countering it. It was unmistakably Murdoc's grunting. The voice womanly, but noting like the high screeches and squeels that were familiar to the women Murdoc brought home from the bar for a good fuck. No, they were low, smooth moans and wails. He recognized it as Paula.
Oh god…Murdoc…Paula…they aren't… Russel opened the toilets' door that had been carelessly left unlocked. He tried to be as silent as he could, if that was possible, as he knelt down in the front of the door to the 3rd stall, peering through a small thin space, not believing what he was seeing.
Oh shit…they…Oh my God… Russel's face twisted in disgust, trying not to throw up.
What he was seeing was true. Murdoc was shagging Paula in a toilet stall. He had her pinned against the titled wall, his arms hooked around her legs, thrusting into her, making her face twist in pain.
Murdoc is fucking Paula's brains out, and I'm just sitting here watching them??
Russel was in no way enjoying what he was seeing, so why was he just standing there? They were having sex and were totally inconsiderate of Stu's feelings. He wasn't going to let them get away with it. Perhaps he would wait until they were finished, take them by surprise, and then mangle them both. You know, ruin Murdoc's fun as he always did.
But still Russel could hear Paula's agonized grunts of pain and pleasure surge through the room. Murdoc's blood-curdling laugh followed.
"Ya like that, don't ya?"
Paula responded with an soft, agonized moan. "Yes, yes…"
She was far into ecstasy. The rhythm, the feeling of that sweet spot being hit over and over, rolled together with the intensity of her body heat increasing got her high.
Paula spasmed as she finally went off the edge, she shuddered and wailed at the burning center of orgasm. It sounded like music to Murdoc's ears as he came into her. Her moans and his grunts slowed to laborious pants and sighs. He released his grip he had on her thighs and pulled out of her.
That's when Russel rose to his feet, trying to tear his face away from the most atrocious sight he'd ever seen. He curled his large, hard fingers into a fist, cracking his knuckles, waiting for his potential victims to exit the stall.
Paula lowered her legs slowly back onto the ground. Her lower half was completely numb. Murdoc had done quite a job on her. Her senses that had temporarily come back had numbed again, and soon came the feeling of a hang over. Murdoc lead her out of the stall, he creaked it open, and saw his fate before him; as seething, hulking Russel Hobbs set on kill mode. He had seen the whole thing. They were busted.
"You sick little bastard…" Russel's deep voice croaked as he plucked Murdoc up off the ground with his tremendous arm, gripping him hard by his throat. Paula gasped and shrieked when she saw Russel's medicine-ball-sized fist connect with Murdoc's face at such a speed he couldn't even scream for help.
Russel sent the bassist flying across the room. Murdoc finally impacted with the ground, going unconscious. Blood came rushing out of his nostrils like a flowing stream. His nose was broken beyond any type of repair.
Russel's head shifted over his huge shoulder. Paula soon came into contact. Paula was still hung over, but she knew exactly what was going to happen to her. Paula ran as fast as she could (or fast as one can move while drunk), screaming at the top of her lungs as she fled from the gigantic drummer's wrath until she found herself trapped in the corner of the room.
She saw the silhouette of the drummer rising high above her head. She turned and saw Russel heading toward her with a tightly balled fist. She tried to back away, but there was no other place to run. Paula pressed herself against from the wall, cringing away, allowing her fate.
"R...russ..russel…" She whimpered.
Russel saw the fear in Paula's eyes. He could see her entire body trembling, almost as though she was having a seizure.
Paula's eye snapped open, realizing that Russel wasn't going hurt her.
The large man slowly lowered his fist. "It ain't gentleman-like of me to hit a woman. Even if that woman was a cheating little..."
Russel stopped himself from saying it. Growing up, he was taught not to act that way around a woman, and no matter how badly wanted to. Out of the instincts of his upbringing, he didn't bring any physical harm to Paula.
Paula was cautious until she was certain Russel wasn't going to bring any harm to her. Her eyes shifted to where the unconscious bassist with a profusely bleeding nose lay face first in his own nose bleed. Her eyes filled with worry as she looked back over at Russel.
"He isn't…"
Russel shook his head. "No, he ain't dead. He's taken worse punches from me than that."
Paula sighed with relief, but her relief quickly disappeared.
"Paula…this…this is unacceptable." Russel's voice was low and solemn.
She knew the worst was coming.
"You were purposely disloyal to your own band mate, your own boyfriend! I'm sorry Paula, but we can't have this. You know, we're tryna become a big band, and this type of drama will not get us anywhere."
Paula's eyes widened. Here it came.
"I'm sorry Paula, but you're going to have to pack up tomorrow, we can't have this happening again. You're out of the band."
Paula's eyebrows shot up and her eyes bulged. She looked back at where Murdoc lay and thought hysterically to herself.
Me?! Why am I getting thrown out?? HE'S the one took advantage of me! If anything it's HIS fault. What's this "we" stuff?? What if Stu doesn't approve?! Who the fuck wrote the rules around here?!
Paula let out a pained cry as she departed the room in tears, back upstairs to the room that would soon no longer be hers. She shut off her stereo and finally fell into her bed, sobbing into the pillow until she had made her headache worse.
First thing in the morning Paula was sent out of Kong Studios. She took one last look at the studio from the top of the hill. She could see the three men she once trusted, standing before the huge studio, all gazing at her. There was Murdoc standing crossed armed, bandages over his damaged nose. Stu was, rather cheerfully, waving good bye to his ex, only to be jabbed in the arm by Russel telling him to stop.
Paula made absolutely sure they were looking directly at her as she got into the hot confines her deep blue Bentley. She took one last gaze up at her former friends, and with that, gave all three of them her middle finger, standing upright in the center of a clenched fist. A cruel smile tugged out of the corner of her mouth whilst marvelling in their shocked expressions.
"Bastards." She muttered beneath her nicotine scented breath.
-
About a two years later, Gorillaz found a new guitarist, who was strangely delivered to their door. She was amnesiac, Japanese 10-year-old who knew very little English, but it was her excellent guitar skills that filled the void. She only responded to one name, Noodle, because it was one of the few English words she could say. She had taken Paula's place. She had taken everything Paula once had.
As for Paula, she had moved out to Brixton and moved into her mum and dad's flat. Paula didn't have an easy time fending for herself. She got a job as the receptionist at a beauty parlor, and so the entire idea of watching pretty girls become even prettier day in and day out made her sick.
Then, the worst came. It was the 8th time that Paula had called into work sick. She panicked and called for a doctor's appointment. Paula explained her symptoms to her doctor; waking up feeling ill every morning, finding the need to throw up everything she ate, and she was putting on weight. The doctor could only conclude to one thing; pregnancy. The thought of being pregnant horrified her, but she had to be sure.
They took a 'sample' of her DNA and looked at the results. Paula sat there on the cot the doctor's office, impatient and anxious. Soon, her doctor had come out with the results of her test. Positive. Paula was pregnant, possibly with twins. Paula was so upset she wanted to punch something. All because she new exactly who the father was.
I'm pregnant…and…he's the father. I can't raise a baby, especially not twins. I can barely take care of myself! I don't know fuck-anything about babies, I don't want babies. What am I going to do?
As nine months passed, Paula had to tend for herself and her unborn children. The only support she had were her friends and family. She couldn't even go on a maternity leave because she didn't have enough money. On another dark rainy night on November 30th, 1998, Paula gave birth to a set of twins, a boy and girl, christened Jael Diane and Damien Murdoc Cracker.
Meanwhile, as the success of Gorillaz was getting bigger and bigger, Paula's life was getting worse and worse; living in a crowded flat her parents and children, working her lousy job plus a second; being a bartender at a loccal club, while facing constant harassment from the media about her story with Gorillaz while diverting her children from the limelight at the same time. Most certainly, she loved her children very much. But the harsh reminder of how they came to be brought darkness into her life. A dark hole of hatred was formed in Paula's damaged heart and not even the joy her son and daughter brought her could fill it.
At the very question of who the children's father was, be it from anyone, Paula fell silent or gave vague details that he was simply an old flame who she didn't want to be involved with anymore. Every time the Gorillaz came on their television screen, Paula would shut it off. She didn't want or need her children to know how much of a using bastard their father was. She thought young Jael and Damien were too young to understand what had happened. She just kept it a secret for 10 years, until one day. She realized the life she and the twins had were to go nowhere if she stayed silent.
Paula had overheard the rumors of the Gorillaz return to Kong Studios on the radio at work. That day Paula pulled the twins out of school and drove for hours out of town to Essex, where Paula would show them who their father really was.
-
While their mother stood waiting for them outside the convenience store, a set of twins, both 10 of age were exploring the store. Jael Diane Cracker had her father's physique; skinny with spindly limbs. She was a half-foot taller than her brother and had hit puberty early. She had her father's, whoever he was, thick black hair and eyes, but was witty and clever like her mother, accompanied by her father's imaptientice. Damien Murdoc Cracker was more so like his mother, black-brown hair and a good figure with powerful legs, but he had his father's, whoever he was, cunning and charismatic personality and unlike his sister, his mother's patience.
The twins were standing silently by a cigarette stand. Damien had discreetly snuck a pack of menthols into his maroon hoody.
"Damien, what are you doing?" His twin sister hissed at him. "You're too young to smoke!"
Damien shushed her. "It's not for me, they're for mum. She seems so mopey today."
He peered over at the view they had of Paula through the window, her face obscure dby her turned back.
Jael jammed a hand into her brother's pocket, trying to fish the small box out of it.
"Are you crazy?! You aren't going to get away with this! We're going to be in so much trouble." Damien took a hold of his sister's wrist, trying to force her hand out, but soon she was yanking on his hair and the twins hit the ground with thud.
This drew the unwanted attention of a large, bulky store clerk who epitomized the borish-cockney-man stereotype and he came from behind the two young hellions in the midst of their attempts to claw each other's eyes out.
"Aye!" He yelled out. "Wot the 'ell are you little shits doin'?"
Damien and Jael split apart, and stood attentive before the man who could easily squeeze their heads open like grapes with fear-stricken faces.
"We weren't doin' nothin'." Damien said, his voice hurried with panic, his hands jammed in his pockets. His middle finger stroked the smooth edge of the cigarette box.
The clerk's tiny, squinted eyes lowered on the little boy.
"Wot'chu got in there?" Pointing a sausage-like finger at the boy's left pocket.
"It's nothing…" Jael added, not knowing what good it would help. She could sense that they were both doomed.
Paula could see the large clerk yelling at her children. She did nothing at first, but then she saw gesture that pushed her off the limit; the clerk reached down and tried to wrench Damien's hand out of his pocket.
Paula barged in, spiked with fury. "Wot the hell are you doin' to my son?!"
The clerk looked over his shoulder at Paula. He lifted Damien up by his wrist which held the box of cigs in his hand. Damien yelped in pain. Damien was quite a screamer, so was his sister even more so, and their screams of pain went off like an alarm in his mother's head.
"Is this yer kid? Yeah, uh-huh, I caught 'im tryna steal some cigarettes." Paula glared the hulking man down.
"Drop him."
With that, Damien hit the floor, releasing his grip on the box in his hand as he scrambled back on hands and knees at his sister's side.
The clerk's broad shoulders raised and lowered.
"I was only tryna discipline 'im."
Paula narrowed her eyes at him, trying to math his tiny, squinted stare. "I don't care. That gives you no right to touch him, I aughta file your ass for assault."
The clerk just stared back. "Go on, ain't scared." Paula gave him not a slap, but a hard punch to the face, and it wasn't any kind of slap that a woman would normally strike a man with. It was so hard it made his jaw twist.
The clerk turned back, his neck made a disgusting popping sound. He lowered his eyes on Paula, who had to be a foot shorter than he was.
"Right then." He croaked. Somehow Paula had completely forgotten that this place was in the bad parts of Essex, so pissing off disturbed store clerks who lived around here was a very, very bad idea. The next thing Paula knew, a large, dirty boot connected with her stomach and sent her flying across the aisle, her head smacking against a wire magazine rack, practically knocking her out.
The twins who had been hiding behind the large man shrieked in horror when then saw their mother hit the ground. Damien sprung to his mother's side while Jael quickly punted the enormous store clerk between the legs, causing him to drop to his knees, clutching his groin between his unshaven legs.
So many thoughts of anger and revenge ran through Damien's head. How dare he do that? To his own mother! He'd murder the bastard! He'd do anything humanly and inhumanly possible to get back at him. But the only thing Paula was concerned about was getting her children out of here as fast as possible. She'd claim her revenge when her headache subsided.
"Mummy, Mummy, you okay??" Damien demanded, supporting her back upright with his skinny arms. Paula nodded as she briefly placed a hand to her forehead, pinching her temples trying to ease away the ache in her head.
The store clerk was still on his knees upon the ground, swearing colorfully, while Jael threw a couple more kicks to his flabby back before her mother commanded her to stop. Paula, being led out of the store by Damien carefully, ordered Jael come with them. Jael followed them back to the nearest exit.
She looked over her shoulder at that clerk who was still whimpering on his knees clutching himself. His large pumpkin-shaped head looked up at her. Jael gave him the nastiest of glares and, out of instinct, promptly gave him the middle finger before making her way back out into the dark rain.
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