Disclaimer:
I do not own 2D, Noodle, Murdoc, Russle or any Gorillaz related things. This is purely fan based and fictional and was not endosed by Jamie Hewlett or Damon Albarn, who own Gorillaz. They are AWSOME! 3
This is mostly about 2D and Noodle, but I threw in the others, for sentimentalities sake. And thats not easy to type. First and formost: I APOLOGISE MASSIVLY if I have gotten any of the lyrics wrong. There are so many variations on the net, so I just picked these. I love the Gorillaz, and some of these I just guessed, I guess. Anyway. Onwards and upwards!
This is 3 years after El Manana. 2D is 32, Noodle is 18, and the others are whatever. If you've read the end of Rise Of The Orge, you'll know that Noodle is suposedly in the Maldives, so I just went with that. Enjoy!!
Aftermath…
The rain-swept halls of the dilapidated Kong Studios bore no signs of residence, save the occasional monotone wail of a rogue zombie. The clapped-out mansion had been empty for months, after be abandoned by forty-something-year-old Satanist; Murdoc Niccals, who eventually left it for want of company. Even arse holes get lonely sometimes.
Many miles away, in the suburban sprawl of New Crawley, a blue haired, black eyed simpleton rolled over in his sleep. It was still the early hours of the morning and Stuart Tusspot was dozing lightly – his first siesta in days, and which all due respect was owed to a mixture of painkillers, sleeping pills and alcohol.
Without warning, an anxious, frightened cry rang through the derelict Kong; "2Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!"
Stuart stirred and awoke from his sleep. He had been dreaming; dreaming of a past life he could not recall, an occupation drowned out by prescriptions and booze. He had heard the same voice that had previously stopped his from sleeping, a voice he longed to recall, and, in his deepest darkest moments, longed to forget.
A small, skinny girl of Asian orientation stretched out on her towel, soaking in the rays of the early morning sun. "She turned my dad onnn! She turned my dad onnn!" she sang to herself in a barely audible whisper. "She made me kill myself."
Stuart, while manning the controls of his fathers fair-ground Ferris Wheels, hummed to himself. An eerie, melancholy hum, one which reminded him of a time a few years back, when he thought that even if the world was about to come apart, nothing could have made him any less happy. It was one of the few memories he had left, and it was barely that. He recalled, if he racked his brains out, a song. A strange song, but a song that, never-the-less, brought him a small amount of joy in his otherwise dull life. "She turned my dad onnn!"
"Magic's funny, magic get me through" Sang the small Japanese girl, strumming her guitar. Quickly, expertly, she changed the tune. A more upbeat melody. Raising her head, she let forth a string of illogical, vocalized sentiments: My dreams, they come a'kissin' 'cuz I don't get sleep, no."
"Windmill, windmill, for the land, I'm forever hand in hand." Stuart sang loudly and unabashedly. His bedroom was littered with clothes, CD's and old zombie movies. There was a suit case on the young mans bed, and he was absent mindedly throwing things in, and singing along with the radio. Stuart had decided, even without knowing he was going, he was going home. "Love forever, love is free; let's turn forever, you and me. Windmill, windmill, for the land, is everybody innn?"
The lobby at Heathrow airport was packed with distraught mothers and fathers, taking their kids away for the Spring Break. Stuart waved goodbye to his parents, and crossed the thresh hold between this home and the next, armed with only one: "Maldives" which rang around his head like a rogue migraine, repeated over and over in a husky, drunk tone of voice. "Maldives". That was Stuarts' destination.
On a beach, somewhere, under a hot sun, a purple-haired, green-eyed Harujuku girl plucked at her guitar and hummed a melancholy hum. The beach was empty, save the guitarist. She took this solidarity as a blessing. Throwing her head back, she sung to the sky: "I ain't happy. I'm feeling glad. I got sunshine in a bag – "
"- I'm useless, but not for long, my future is coming on. Is coming on. Is coming on…" Stuarts' flight was reaching its peak, and in a few hours would be concluding in the hot and sunny Maldives. Stuarts head phones blocked out most of the noise from the plane, but the large, black man sleeping next to him was snoring so loudly that the two children across the isle were telling their mother that he was possessed. Stuarts' stomach panged every time he looked at this man. Something from his past was concealed behind his companions steely expressions. But what, Stu could not recall.
His parents never spoke of his past, preferring to snake around the issue rather then confront it. It had been so long. Too long. Stu could only remember songs now. He'd had one painkiller too much.
The decent into the Maldives was relatively smooth and uneventful. Stuart collected his baggage, and boarded a taxi driven by an old man who wouldn't stop speaking in some unknown language. Stuart smiled politely, and put on his head phones in an attempt to drown out his chauffeurs rambling. " I need a gun, to keep myself from harm –"
"- The poor people, they're burning in the sun –"
"- They ain't got a chance, they ain't got a chance –"
"- I need a gun, 'cuz all I do is dance. 'Cuz all I do is dance…" Once again, the Japanese girl was singing, sitting alone on the beach. This tune, however, was not accompanied by her guitar, but rather by the memories of her past. The moments, the places, the events, but mostly she remembered the people. Her friends, her 'family' and…
…Her heart…
When Stuart left London, nothing could have prepared him for the heat. Donning a pair of camo-green board shorts and lathering himself in sun cream, he set of to find a beach.
In the last moments of sunlight, the slim yet sexy figure of a girl whose face was damp with tears walked up the dunes of the deserted beach. A somewhat familiar, slinky male figure was sauntering down the sand dunes towards her, oblivious of her existence, and singing at the top of his voice: "I saw that daaay! Lost my miiind! Lord, I'm fiiine! –" The girl knew that song well. It was a song she's often thought of, a song that had the same effect on her now as it did three years ago. Chocking back the tears, she screamed in response: "Maybe in time, you'll waaant to be mine!!" The figure stopped. An eternity of moments passed. Night approached and drowned them in darkness. A voice danced around Stuarts' head, a voice screaming out to him. The Japanese girl opened her mouth, chocked back her grief, and said "2D?" Stuart walked towards her. He studied her features in the light of the moon. Green eyes, spiky purple hair, chin-length bangs, olive skin and a slim, curvaceous figure. He looked into the girls emerald eyes. "2D" she whimpered. And 2D nodded. Taking her head in his hands, the newly self re-discovered 2D said, uncertainly "Noodle?" "2D!" She screamed, throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his bare chest. "Noodle" 2D repeated. He lifter Noodle's face to his; memories, pictures, places and events came rushing back to him. People; friends, 'family' and…
…His heart…
2D raised Noodles tear streaked face closer to his own tear streaked face. "Noodle" he whispered, "I've missed you", "And I you, my 2D-Kun." She replied. 2D continued to bring Noodles face upwards, until their lips met. In the distance a radio played, load and melodious;
"Maybe in time, you'll waaant to be mine!"