"-and that's what I call one hot mess. Now back to you Stacey.
Thank you Robert, Our top story tonight, Townsville mourns the loss of a hero. Five years ago today, Buttercup Uton-" *CLICK*
"-Candle light visual he-" *CLICK*
"-ead, when hit by a-" *CLICK*
TV gets so boring this time of year, and everywhere else is packed with people just standing there. I run my fingers through my long blond hair and sigh. The whole town shuts down for the anniversary of my "death". But I guess that just my fault for bein' unstable. I glace outside and notice that it's lightly sprinkling. I hate the rain, but on the awesome side I've been stress free for about five years now and I think it's time to have some self-celebration. Just as I'm about to pull out the ice-cream tub, I hear a knock at my door. I unlock it, leaving the chain still hooked.
"Who's there?" I asked annoyed. I look to see a dude about my age with a toolbox, just standing there. He's lightly tanned, with bright green eyes, a bit muscly, and I can see dark hair poking out of his hat. He looks really bored. His eyes wash over me, and then he yawns while scratching his 5'o clock shadow.
"Maintenance," the he replies in after his yawn, "the old man wanted to make sure his building was in good condition for renting out the other floors and sections. I just need to look inside and okay this place, alright?" I snort at him. I slam the door in his face and unhook the chain violently. I can hear him sighing. He must have it rough too. I open the door gently this time and step aside to let him in. As soon as he walks in he goes straight to the sink to check the pipes. Personally, I kinda like the company. Ironically, I'm always alone because people are out mourning my "death". Onward with the self-celebration! I squeeze past the guy, quickly yank out the tub, and skip to my seat to enjoy my treat. Using the spoon that was randomly on the table, I eat my noms. I'm interrupted by giggling from my sink. I glance to this dude, and he's just staring at me, biting his lip to keep the laughter from vomiting out of his mouth.
"What." I spit venomously. He throws a pair of wet underwear at me. Oh, crap I forgot those were in there. I tied them there to secure my drain.
"Looks like you need a new pipe," He says, "I'm amazed that your underwear's been holding it together. It's such a shame to see such a pretty little pair go to waste." He smirks and winks at me. I'm furious and I'm pretty sure my face is boiling with irritation. I grunt and pout.
"Hey, come on! I'm just trying to have some fun. I've been stuck working all day" I think it's his way of apologizing. I feel bad for the guy, stuck working while everyone's off work and school. Yeah, my "death" caused everybody else a free-be.
"Why are you working anyway? Shouldn't you be mourning the death of that Powerpuff Girl like everyone else? " I ask out of curiosity. He stands up and shakes off his hands.
"I'm just trying to make a living, plus the boss-man pays double on empty days like this. I don't really like taking part in this day anyway, because to really respect and understand her, we have to move on. I think she's free now; she was always the one being hounded by the paparazzi." He looks confident, as if he knows what he's talking about. I felt a stab inside me. What he said made me feel something inside, because it's true. I'm hiding for my sanity. I was so stressed to a point where the chemical x inside of me reacted and I was unstable. For my safety I had to fake my own death and go into hiding. No one but the Professor knows where I am. My thoughts are cut short by this guy's voice.
"Hey, you alright?" I didn't notice him walk up to me.
"Yeah, I'm good, I was just thinking. You sound like you knew her." I added.
"Uh, in a way, yeah I did. She was more of a rival than acquaintance." He said gruffly.
"A rival?" I was honestly confused. I didn't recognize this guy. His tone and attitude is a bit annoying, but nothing that stood out and alerted me.
"Well, uh, in a general sense, you know? She was pretty cool underground and people wanted to be like her and surpass her." He looked distraught as he said it. I remember those days. So he used to skate, huh? Funny, I don't remember him at the hole.
"Oh yeah, anyway, what's your name, Kid?"
"Who you calling kid, shorty? I'm But-, uh, Charlie!" he stuttered.
"Yeah I'm Charlie. My name is Charlie. That's me. The name I was born with, Charlie." He continued.
"Charlie, huh? Well I'm Bud." I shook his greasy wet hand.
"I'm glad I've finally met someone who shares to same views as me." He gave me a long stare, "N-N-Not that I needed anyone. Come on, I'll show you more old and broken crap around my place." I dragged him around my house. I'm not sure why but I feel like Charlie's not his real name. The more we talked, the more he felt familiar; maybe I did meet him at some point underground. Oh well, at least I'm not alone for once, on the anniversary of my "death".
_MY NOTE: Thank you for reading this. It makes me really happy to know that someone out there has read this. Should I just have this entire story in Buttercup's point of view or should I alternate views? Also, is this story worthy of continuing? Please let me know. Thank you!