{My god! Two parts in a day! This is ridiculous! I don't even have a song for it yet... That's how fresh it is! Enjoy~!}
_ / log 10: inv 20 – 10 – 05 20:23:04_ w._gage
_398.3 - beg inv:
_ ent. Inv sub 10, w.g.
w.g. [arms crossed – obviously irritable]: WELL. GO ON. WHAT IS IT YOU WANT FROM ME?
Pr. O invr: PLEASE TRY TO RELAX, MS. GAGE. ALL WE WANT YOU TO DO IS DENY OR CONFIRM RUMOURS.
w.g.: OH, RIGHT. YEAH. YOU LOT ARE ALL ABOUT GETTING THE TRUTH, EH? THAT'S WHAT YOUR INDUSTRY'S INTO, YEAH? THE STRAIGHT FACTS.
Invr.: PLEASE, MS. GAGE, WE ONLY WANT TO HELP.
w.g.: HELP? HELP WHO? I DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU AND YOUR HORRIBLE BUSINESS. YOU CAN TAKE YOUR RUMOURS AND SHOVE THEM BACK UP YOUR PIMPLY ARSE. NOW LET ME GO.
Invr. [patience wearing]: ALL WE WANT FROM YOU IS YOUR STORY, WHO YOU ARE, WHERE YOU'RE FROM. NO ONE KNOWS ANYTHING ABOUT YOU. YOU'RE COMPLETELY UNKNOWN.
w.g.: [pauses – gaze shifts down]. PERHAPS THAT'S WHAT I WANT. HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED THAT? EH?
Invr.: BUT YOU'RE AN ENORMOUS PART OF THEIR HISTORY! IF YOU ONLY TELL US A LITTLE ABOUT YOURSELF, YOU'D BE AN INSTANT IDOL, A HOUSEHOLD NAME.
w.g.: [rises from seat]: RIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'M DONE WITH THIS SHIT.
Invr.: WAIT! MS. GAGE, PLEASE!
[footsteps heard – thumping]
w.g. [distantly]: LEMME GO! GET OFF!
[sounds of struggling heard – smacking – male grunt]
Unk. Male 1 [distantly]: OI! WE COULD SUE YOU FOR THAT!
[door squeaking – another male grunt, weaker]
Unk. Male 2: RIGHT. FORGET IT. LET'S SCRAP THIS.
Invr. [irritably]: WASTE OF BLOODY TAPE.
_ log 10: inv 10 – 20 – 05 20:23:04_ w._gage
_398.3 - end inv/
The light of my cigarette looks like an angry eye in the fog. It's gotten quite a bit cooler since the morning; I see my breath in the form of little clouds. Even they seem a bit green.
I hadn't known where I was going when I'd left the kitchen, really. I'd just needed to leave, but I also quite badly needed a fag.
I'm currently standing on a porch. It's lined by metal rails. There was a sliding glass door at the end of the hall, and I'd gone to it. I suppose that just goes and proves Murdoc's point, that I've assumed the position of doing whatever I please in this house. Stupid man.
I pinch the cig between my middle and ring finger and pull it from between my lips. I imagine I'm literally blowing off steam, and send the smoke out in a long column of greenish-grey, which floats out and up and becomes part of the massive cloud surrounding this obscure studio-building on top of a hill. There's nothing to see but a wall of mist.
I feel as though I'm about to vomit. Why can't I just gracefully exit from Stu's life? Why did I have to linger 'round as I am? It's awkward enough as it is! I'm still just the girl he tried to rescue once, who lived above his flat. That's all. That's it. Nothing else. Just the girl who drove him here. The end.
I put the cig back in and suck on it, and just as I'm about to take it out again, the door behind me makes a sliding nose. I turn around.
"Hallo, Wionasan," says Noodle, sadly, "Please don't be cross with Murdoc. He isn't completely himself today."
Oh, he's not usually just a greasy tosser, then? "Thank you, Noodle, really, but he's got a point. I've been terribly rude to you all, intruding here as I have."
"Intruding? No, no!" She comes over to me and grabs my left hand in hers. "You've brought great joy to our lives, Wionasan! It is an honour to have you here with us! You are our guest!"
Oh, I do love her so. I take the cig out of my mouth and with both hands, I hold her head and give her a kiss on the top of the shaggy mat of hair. "Thank you, darling. You're completely too kind to me."
She giggles, and says, "Deesan is especially pleased, Wionasan! I've never seen him as happy as he is with you here!"
Oi. "Wh… Why do you say that?"
"Oh, he told me quite a lot about his journey with you! How you were so kind as to open your home to him, and to return him to our home – such great things you've done for us! And you see, Deesan had become, ah, somewhat saddened and depressed before our family had split in four unique directions. It was as if the shadow of a dark specter were casting down upon him, causing his moods to turn heavy. Confidentially, I blame Murdocsan for this; he had caused Deesan a great deal of strife throughout our time together, so much so as to call it, ah, abusive and, uh, at times, terribly cruel! It would upset me often, even as a young child, as I had been then, to see Deesan become something of a, ah, human punching-bag, yes, on which Murdocsan could manifest his creative frustration. So, you see, I am extremely pleased to see Deesan return in good spirits, and I believe it to be greatly attributed to you, Wionasan! I thank you greatly for this!"
She hugs my head, and I feel as though I might erupt like some sort of human Krakatoa. That prick!
"I will be sure to phone a mechanic to repair your motorbike, Wionasan," says Noodle as she lets go, "But please, will you accompany us to tonight's live?"
"Tonight's what?" I'm so cross, I've forgotten everything having to do with a live anything.
"The Bagoonas!" Her cherub face splits into a giant grin.
Ah, that live. I don't know what to say. Yes? I'll come and make myself seem even more like the person Mur-dick thinks I am, and even more the girl who won't un-stick herself from Stu's life? Or no, I shan't, and I'll watch as her round angel-face breaks like a china plate.
"… Y-yes, I suppose I shall."
Little Noodle's joy at my agreement could fill a balloon. "Oh, thank you, Wionasan! What a fantastic day this is becoming!"
"Yeah," I agree absently, and just as I do, we hear a crashing coming from the kitchen. She and I look at one another a moment before she goes back in. I spit my fag out into the green abyss and follow behind.
We turn the corner in time to see a large white plate smack against the hall wall. It blooms into a thousand little pieces, and I cover my face and Noodle's to shy away the far-reaching bits. There's quite a bit of muffled swearing coming from the kitchen, and I feel as though I shall be ready to open a large container of whoop-ass on its originator.
We come to the entrance just as a wineglass flies out. I'm about to fall myself and Noodle to the floor when she does something I shouldn't have been so surprised seeing her do but was entirely, regardless. In early the same moment we see it, she brings her little foot exactly level with its path of trajectory, letting the thin glass crack against the sole of her shoe. The shards scatter in every direction other than ours.
She lowers her leg as slowly as I've seen any great kung-fu movie-star do it. I'm about to do something other than just mash my gums together when she calls out, "Murdocsan! Please do not throw things about! You could to harm to something."
"I! DON'T! CARE ABOUT HARMING ANYTHING!" There's another crashing-noise. "WHERE'S ALL MY DRINKS GONE?"
Noodle goes in, and I follow quickly.
There are bits of broken things everywhere; on the floors, on the table; next to the chairs in the sitting-area. A chair had been tipped. All the cabinet doors above the sink have been opened, as have the ones below the sink, and the ones below the counter. The refrigerator door was open, as well. There was quite a lot of banging coming from down there, but whoever was making it was out of view below the glass-strewn center island.
"Tequila… Scotch… Ale…" I could hear all sorts of liquors being called listlessly from that direction. "… Where have they GONE?"
I look over to the sitting area, where there's a hunched over person, hiding themselves as best they can behind the leather ottoman. Stu's hands are covering his head. "'Ee's gone absolutely men'al!" he says quietly to us. I go over to him, cautiously. Noodle stays where she is, standing bravely and erect.
"I removed them, Murdocsan," she says evenly, "They caused a great deal of negativity in our home."
Murdoc's ugly head rears itself above the counter. His evil eyes are positively alight. "WHY IN ALL HELL'S ORCHESTRAS HAVE YOU DONE THAT FOR?" There's a trace of sadness in his roaring cry, which makes his anger come-off as slightly pathetic.
I bend down to 2D. "Are you alright?" I ask, as all sorts of images of him being the horrible Murdoc-man's "punching bag" flashing before my mind's eye.
He looks up at me with all the balefulness of a hurt puppy in his pothole eyes. "Don' worry about me! S'the kitchen I'm concerned about!"
"Ah, sssshit, all my drink!" goes the green man, "S'all gone! All gone!"
I hear a thump, and imagine him lying in a state of sober hopelessness. He makes a sound like the air being squished out a tire. "Aaaaeeegggooollleeeyyy."
Noodle goes over to him. I get up from where 2D's cowering and go toward the overturned chair, beneath which is the package I'd knocked the stupid shouting prick out with. I picked it up and imagined doing it again, but realized I'd probably be doing him a favour by that.
"I am deeply sorry, Murdocsan," says Noodle. She's got her little hand on the shoulder of the broken man, "It's for the good of us all."
"Jus' shhhuddup, you…" He breaks off into a puddle of dribbly insults I can't quite hear, but imagine aren't terribly creative with him in the state he's in.
I turn the package over in my hands. "What you reckon this is?" I ask 2D, in an attempt to distract him out of his sad-looking protective position. He cranes his blue-topped head over the ottoman to see. "Dunno," he says, still low to the ground. "Did it come wif anything?"
"I'm not sure," I say, "But whatever it is, it's awful weighty."
And then I notice the tag. I do a sort of double-take. "S'for me!"
"Weely?" 2D's finally gotten off the floor, and was coming to look. "'Oo's it from?"
"Dunno." I flip the card over, but it's got nothing but my name in big black capitals on one side. "Doesn't say."
2D examines it with his depthless eyes. Part of me wants terribly to open it, while another is terribly frightened that it was something ghoulish. How did anyone know I was here? Why would they send it here at all?
"Look, sweetheart… Get me sum of that coffee over there, will you?" Murdoc's voice is a mere, cracked version of what it usually is, like a scraggly shadow. "I feel as though I've been dead and warmed up."
Noodle rises quickly and goes over to a dented-looking coffee machine. I fiddle with the wrapping of my creepy little parcel and am about to open it when she says, "Will you be well enough to attend the concert, Murdocsan?"
"Which one is that?"
"The one we've been sent tickets to!" says 2D, happily, "There're four of them!"
I put the package on the table.
"Ah, Christ, s'not another publicity thing, is it?" groans the green man, "God, load of rrrubbish they all are, awful as anything… But they keep on inviting us as a sort of advertising shhhtick. As if we'll distract from how incredibly awful they are or summing… How'd y'reckon they knew we've gotten back t'gether, eh? S'like they can't wait to exploit us."
"It's the Mishmosh, Murdocsan!" says Noodle, pouring black coffee into three chipped, white teacups, "You applied for their subscrip-"
"Ah, right, right," he interrupts, "God, had I known then they'd be using us, I'd have never sent in all those cereal box tops…"
Noodle sets the coffee down next to him, and brings the other two cups to me and 2D. She goes back and stands over his head. "It will be great fun, Murdocsan!" she says to him, "Please join us!"
"Yeah, sure. Why not."
"Oh, hooray!" She hops up and down again, which makes me smile. "A fantastic day, indeed!"
Then Murdoc grumbles something. "H… hang on. Who's the fourth?"
I make a face into my coffee.
"Wionasan!"
"OH, F'CHRISSAKE, NO!" I hear him pound at the floor. "FORGET IT! NOT GOING!"
"Aw, c'mon, Murdoc!" says 2D, which scares me a bit, "It'll be great!"
"OI! SHUDDUP! I will NOT fraternize with the likes of her."
"But I thought you liked the Bagoonas!"
"IT ISN'T ABOUT THE BLOODY BAGOONAS!"
I watch as Murdoc pops up from behind the counter and tosses his teacup at 2D's head. 2D winces as it clinks against his brow and lands on the floor, completely saturating him in its hot contents. The cup smashes at our feet.
Murdoc points his crooked green finger at me. "IT'S HER! SHE'S the reason! I'd rather run my testicles through a meat-masher than attend anything with that terror! I'M! NOT! GOING!" He picks himself up and moves toward the door, mumbling. "Ssstupid… idiot people…"
Once he's gone, I look back at 2D. He's got a hand on his head, beads of coffee dripping from his spiked hair. "I'm so sorry," I say, stupidly, "Are you alright?"
He looks down at the package on the table, in a sort of sad way. "Yeh, I'm awright. Told you 'ee's a tossah."
I laugh, sadly. "Hoped you'd been exaggerating." I look over at Noodle. She's got her head down. "I'm sorry, Noodle, really," I say to her, "I don't need to go. I'll only ruin the fun."
Her head pops up at me and she shakes it. "No, no! Please, come!"
My brows rise. "Really?"
"Yes! Murdoc's the one who's ruined things." She sticks her lip out. "I dislike him when he's like this."
My god! To make little Noodle upset, he must truly be the king of shlongs! I watch 2D grab himself a towel from one of the open draws and try his coffee-covered hair and face with it. "Well, then. Thank you!" I say.
Noodle smiles a thin-lipped smile at me, then looks about the kitchen with her fringe-covered eyes. "I shall clean the mess he's made now."
I look about, too. "I'll help," I say, and bend down to right the overturned chair.
2D rubs his head with the towel. "Shall I get the mop?" he says.
I've just put the chair on its feet when I realize I've had a question to answer since the previous night. "Dee, what're you going to do about all those stolen things?"
And then I smash my teeth together. I've called him Dee!
"S'not a problem, weely," he says simply, "I'd been wanting some new things. I'll jus' pop 'round the shops 'n get summore."
"Oh." I try forgetting about the red that's snuck in my face. Stupid me! Calling him a nickname like that. Brash as I please. As if I hadn't already made myself far too comfortable in their home like I had, I've begun calling him as though we were close mates. I don't think I could get much lower on the classy-scale than I am already. "Alright. Cool."
His answer still hadn't explained the appearance of a snazzy new outfit. His shirt shoulders are browned with cold coffee.
With the towel 'round his shoulders, he goes to get the mop.
You haven't finished yet.
"I… I'm s… sorry-"
Leave it alone. You've made a great mess of things.
"Please, sir, no! Really, I… I haven't… I… There's time left! There's time left!"
Shut up! You can't keep expecting this of me.
"N… no, sir… no."
Go, now. And don't muck it up.
"Th… th… thank you… sir, thank you."
It's your last chance.
"Y… yes, sir, yes… I'll do it right! Really… I… I'll do it!"
You will. You haven't a choice.
Go, now. And be quick about it.
