STUART POT

1979-2011

"Voice like an angel, arse like a satsuma."

2D stared pensively at the crudely erected gravestone, scratching uncomfortably at the collar of his dress shirt. He couldn't remember for the life of him how to properly tie a tie, and managed to get his neck impossibly tangled in a knotted ball of plaid fabric. Trying not to draw attention to his fashion faux pas, he stood respectfully as Murdoc arrived with a can of "8 O'Clock" coffee appropriately labeled "Das Sod-Meister".

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered 'ere t'day an'… an' this is startin' t' sound like a Prince song. Cn' we just get this th' fuck ovah with? Ah'm sweatin' maw bollocks off in this bleedin' sweater."

Even the foul old man had put on his least stained turtleneck and his gold inverted cross for the occasion. Honestly, 2D wanted the ordeal to be over with as quickly as possible as well. Attending funerals had always made him uncomfortable, let alone his own. "Should someone loik, say a few words or sumfink?"

"Yer a cum-chugging faggot with a brain th' size o' th' kidney stone Ah pissed out last weekend. Anything else ye'd like t' say, Huck Finn?" Murdoc glared as he tried airing out the rings of sweat forming under his armpits.

To 2D's surprise, Cyborg shifted to attention. "Host memory log indicates subject Dullard was well acquainted with original template Noodle. Retrieving host data. Humanoid simulator engaged."

She shuddered and beeped for a few seconds before her expression changed to something frighteningly close to human. For a moment, 2D wondered if he actually had gone to hell and found Noodle, but the bionic girl still seemed too plastic to be completely convincing. However, instead of her usual calculated coldness, remorse glimmered in her glassy eyes, reminding the bluenette of an eerily realistic porcelain doll. Cyborg stepped forward and sighed lightly, cupping her hands behind her back in a very Noodle-like fashion.

"Contrary to belief, black is not a color. It is simply the absence of light. However, my first memory of Kong refutes this definition. The first light I saw after leaving that dark box was black; two black eyes peering curiously into an equally black crate. Never before have I seen something so dark, so black, emit so much light into the world. From the very moment I entered Gorillaz, 2D made me feel like more than just a band mate. He was the brother I never had, showing me the ropes in the strange new jungle that was Kong studios. He had infinite patience with me as a child, for we both understood what it meant to be misunderstood. 2D understood me before I had a voice, for he listened with his heart, not with his ears. In a world where our spoken words often left others baffled, we communicated clearly through our zen bond, transcending all languages. 2D was a paradox within himself, dark emitting light, understanding through misunderstanding, someone so broken and fractured that made me feel whole. And now that he has left this mortal plane, I will carry his light with me, until we one day meet again. Namaste."

Finishing with a slight bow, Cyborg suddenly jerked violently as sparks sprayed from her head, causing part of her hair to catch fire. "Human emotion simulator has encountered a fatal error. Switching application to command prompt. Would you like to send an error report?"

2D and Murdoc stared, completely dumbfounded at Cyborg's unexpected display of humanity, shivers running down their spines.

"Did yew just piss yer knickers too?..." The bassist whispered. 2D, not sure if he should feel honored or terrified, stood petrified on the spot, jaw agape.

"If Ah don't get about a liter of rum in me within th' next 10 minutes, Ah'm gonna have night terrors fr' YEARS. Funeral adjourned!" With that, Murdoc lobbed the can of ashes into the tide, followed by a snarling loogie.

"Y'know dat can's juss gonna wash back up on da beach, roight? Everyfing ye frow into da ocean ends up 'ere." The still perturbed vocalist explained.

Murdoc scoffed lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking back to the house. "There's more truth in that than ye realize, Faceache."

Not quite understanding the cryptic response, 2D followed behind Murdoc. "So wot now? We juss go about pretendin' diss never 'appened?"

"Not exactly," the bassist explain. "We go get shitfaced, THEN we fr'get this ever happened!"

2D's mood brightened significantly at the prospect of alcohol. It'd been months since the last time he'd been drunk, and his fried nerves could use the night off.

"Right then, rum awaits. Let's get pissed!" Murdoc idly kicked some sand at Cyborg, who had buried her smoking head in the ground. "Just… just go to yer closet when ye get that awl sorted out."

Cyborg's eulogy had struck an unnerving chord deep within the vocalist. He was familiar with her intermittent bouts of Noodle-ish behavior, but this particular episode had been chillingly realistic. 2D bit back tears as he followed Murdoc into the lift, finding it increasingly harder to suppress his memories of the once vibrant Japanese guitarist. He couldn't help but feel touched by Cyborg's words though. Praise came rarely to him as of lately, especially any as genuine as the robotic girl's parting words. The melancholy corner of his mind almost wished he really had died, just so hear could hear the actual Noodle recite such a beautiful farewell.

After a few seconds the lift doors ground open, and Murdoc nearly skipped to the globe-shaped bar under his portrait of pirate Murray. Popping open the lid, he pulled out a dark bottle of rum, swilling the contents and gazing at it through the light. "This right here is maw private stock. Good shit, not that gut rot Ah drink half th' time." He grabbed two tumbler glasses from under the bar, pouring the warm amber liquid into each one. 2D, feeling somewhat honored that Murdoc would actually share his expensive liquor with him, reached for a cup.

SMACK.

"'Oo said Ah wos sharin' with yew? Yew get th' cheap shit!"

2D rubbed his reddening hand, wincing slightly. "Wot da fuck did ye pour two glasses fo'?"

"So when Ah'm done with this one…" Murdoc slugged back the drink in one shot. "Ah've got anothah one awlready t' go!" He downed the second cup just as quickly, throwing the glasses behind his head with a crash. "Actually, why am Ah usin' glasses? That's wot th' bottles fo'!" He then proceeded to chug a quarter of the fancy alcohol, finishing with a large belch.

Annoyed, 2D picked up a half drunk bottle of generic rum off the couch, sniffing at it distastefully. "Welp… bottoms up?" He shrugged as he took a swig, immediately spitting it out onto Murdoc's shirt. The keyboardist frantically pawed at his tongue, coughing in disgust. "I'ss full o' bloody fruit flies ye cunt!"

Murdoc grumbled and took off his rum soaked sweater, reluctantly handing 2D a proper bottle. The bluenette gargled the liquor like mouthwash, spitting out a slurry of alcohol and insects. "Guess dat's one way t' make a black 'n tan…" he mumbled unhappily.

Murdoc grabbed the rum angrily from 2D's grasp, attempting to soak up the mess on the carpet with his already dripping turtleneck. "Look, this obviously isn't workin' out. Let's try somethin' else." The green bassist opened the cabinet under the fish tank, pulling out a small ziploc bag and the biggest bong 2D had ever seen.

"Oh hell no, Ah'm not tokin' up wiff yew again!" 2D complained. "Last time ye spiked da weed, ditched me in New York, an' den dey put videos of us stoned awl ovah yew tube! Me mum saw dat shit!"

Murdoc paid no attention to the vocalist's squeals of protest, and proceeded to pack the bowl. "Ah swear this stuff isn't laced. Scouts honor." He winked and held up the traditional Boy Scout hand signal. "Now quit yer bitchin' and do some fuckin' drugs."

Rolling his eyes, 2D flopped onto the damp couch, tossing Murdoc a lighter. The Satanist lit up the hash, inhaling as much intoxicating smoke from the bong as his lungs could handle. Holding his breath for a few seconds, he exhaled, grey clouds dissipating into the ether. "Yeeeerrrrr tuuuuurrrrn." He drawled slowly, handing the lighter to 2D.

The keyboardist placed his lips over the glass piece, causing the bong water to bubble gently as the chamber filled with smoke. Satisfied with the size of the hit, he swallowed up the wispy vapors, slowly releasing them through the gap in his teeth. "If Ah start worshipin' da fridge loik it's a tiki god again, Ah'm gonna shove diss damn bong up yer arse."

Murdoc chuckled as the bong was turned his way, taking another hit. "Sadly, Ah think that'd be th' closest Ah've been t' gettin' shagged since Ah've been on this God-forsaken island."

2D grimaced before lighting up the weed again, trying to forget about his own non-existent sex life.

The bong made its way between the two of them a few more times before they finished it off. A light haze had filled the room as the band mates slunk back into the couch, red-eyed and smirking.

"Oi D, 'ow much ye wanna bet th' seagull and th' pelican are butt buddies?" Murdoc cracked up laughing.

"Dat seagull's too depressed t' boff anyfing," the stoned vocalist replied. "Juss listenin' t' 'im makes me wanna jump off da light 'ouse."

The bassist walked over to the window, stumbling slightly, and stared in awe at the lighthouse. "Ah fuckin' love that lighthouse. It's a HOUSE…. of LIGHT. Ah dunno why we have it though, no bloody ships come 'ere except our own."

"Wot d'ye fink would 'appen if ye put a blackroom inside a light 'ouse?" 2D pondered, scratching his stomach and staring into space.

"Lots o' shipwrecks," Murdoc replied. "But ye'd get some brilliant photos of 'em. Become an artist an' make millions!"

2D focused intently at the floor for a moment, suddenly finding the carpet to be extremely fascinating. "No no no! Ah've got da greatest idea evah! Lemme tell ye!"

"Awright, out with it then!" Murdoc shouted back.

"Okay, so we get a whole lot o' t-shirts,"

"Go on."

"An' we put a really really fat, thug lookin' bloke on 'em,"

"Yes?"

"An' we write, 'Eminem ate too many M&M's' undaneath da fat bloke."

Murdoc laughed so hard he thought his lungs would explode. "That's fuckin' BRILLIANT, mate!"

"Ah know, roight?" 2D managed to spit out through fits of snorting giggles. "People make loads off dose stupid t-shirts!"

Murdoc, having already forgotten his bandmate's supposed stroke of genius, began digging through his collection of DVDs. "Oi, 'ows about 'The Hills Have Thighs'? That's a good one."

"Ah've seen dat one loik, a fousand times. Wot about 'Fear and Moaning in Las Vegas'?" 2D suggested.

"Naw, Ah cahn't watch anything with Benicio Del Toro aftah he offered t' gimme a rimjob at th' Chicken Choker." Murdoc replied as 2D dodged the DVD cases flying across the room. "Oh, Poondock Saints just came in! Let's watch that!"

Something about the lecherous Satanist's last comment perturbed 2D, but he had become fixated with the frayed edges of his shoelaces. The bluenette stared at them in fascination, amazed at the complex weave pattern used to create them. They couldn't possibly have been braided by hand, they had to have been made by a machine. But then how did people make shoelaces before-

THUNK

"Have yew been listenin' t' a thing Ah just said?"

2D rubbed the slowly forming bruise between his eyes where Murdoc's DVD case had met its target, glad that the marijuana had dulled his pain receptors. "Sumfink about Benicio Del Toro an' bums?"

Thankfully for 2D, Murdoc was too intoxicated to bother getting angry at his ignorance. "If Ah evah made sex tape, Ah think Ah'd make maw porno name Clint Eatwood."

"So yew DO eat wood den?" 2D chuckled as he ducked from a hurtling VHS.

"No dammit, Ah'd be th' one getting maw wood eaten! Chroist, do Ah have t' spell out everything fo' yew?" Murdoc rolled his mismatched eyes as he continued watching the x-rated film.

"Ah awlways thought Stuart Sexpot would be a good porno name." 2D suggested.

"Naw, too basic," Murdoc disagreed. "Think o' like, yer favorite actor an'… well, see if it rhymes with anything nasty."

2D scratched absent mindedly at his neck as he thought for a moment. "Sean Connerylingus?"

Murdoc burst into fits of laughter. "Ah think that's the funniest thing Ah've evah heard yew say, mate."

2D beamed with pride from Murdoc's rare compliments, but once again fell suddenly silent as he intently focused on the floor, a meditative look upon his bruised face. Murdoc, irked by the fact that time had decided to slow to a grinding hault, pulled 2D back to reality. "Ground control t' Major Ponce! Ye still in there?" He waved his hand in front of 2D's face until the bluenette jerked up, looking like someone who had just been violently shaken awake. His vacuous eyes, bloodshot from the THC coursing through his veins, had taken on an eerily reddish tone. The only time anyone managed to see his pupils was when he was either stoned out of his mind, sleep deprived, or crying. "Wot's going through that pint-sized mind o' yers, shoe-gazer?"

"Lobstahs," 2D replied succinctly.

"….Lobsters?"

"Yeah, lobstahs. Ah always see dem in little fish tanks at da supah market," 2D explained. "Ah feel 'orrible fo' dem, cause dey look so 'appy and naïve, swimmin' around and doin' lobstah fings. But dey dun know dat prit'y soon, a big 'and is gonna scoop dem up and frow dem in a Jacuzzi from 'ell. It juss breaks me 'eart seein' sumfink so 'appy wiff such a terrible fate a'ead of it…" He sniffled as he started sobbing pitifully into his hands. "Ah wanna tell dem, but Ah cahn't speak lobstah! Ah wanna break open da tank, but den dey'd awl die on da floor, and Ah'd get kicked out! Ah cahn't get kicked outta anymo' supah markets, Murdoc! Where would Ah buy jaffa cakes?"

The bassist slapped 2D out of his hysterics, leaving him teary eyed and whimpering. "This ain't about cake an' lobsters, Stu. Now quite yer yammerin' an' tell me wot's really wrong."

2D drew a deep, shaky breath, wiping his runny nose on the back of his wrist. "Ah wish… Ah wish Ah coulda saved Noodle. Ah fought Ah woulda seen 'er."

"Of AWL th' things ye could've brought up, ye tawk about Noodle." Murdoc fought back the urge to punch the vocalist. The whole point of the night was to try to get her off their minds. "Wot th' fuck do ye mean ye thought would've seen 'er?"

"Aftah Ah got shot, Ah dun remembah much. Juss da inside o' da lift, an' feelin' hot an' cold at da same time, an' juss bein'…. scared. More scared dan even da whale evah made me. But Ah kept finkin', if Ah di'in't make it… at least Ah'd get ta see 'er again. An' maybe Ah coulda 'elped her escape from hell." A small grin peeked at the corner of his mouth. "But Ah cahn't remembah anyfing aftah da lift. Juss loik when Johnnybird took me away in Jamaica an' taught me awl dat Rasta stuff. Ah feel loik dere's awl diss mystical knowledge stuck in me 'ead somewhere, an' Ah cahn't remembah any o' it! Ah just 'ope if Ah did see 'er Ah di'int say anyfink stupid…"

A distant sound of footsteps interrupted their semi-stoned conversation. "Perimeter secured, Master. I have come to retrieve subject Dullard to return him to his quarters for the night." Cyborg said stiffly.

2D waved his hands frantically. "Wait, Cyborg! Ye downloaded awl dat robo junk inta me 'ead earlier, roight?"

"Correct. I established a wifi link and sent you my operator's manual. Is any data in the file unreadable or corrupted?" She asked.

"No no, it wos awl fine," 2D reassured her. "But is dere anyway Ah could loik, send stuff ta yew?"

"I have no need to receive outside transmissions from wireless network "Dullard". I find it most efficient to limit my download rate to only necessary files, in order to avoid viruses and malware." Cyborg replied.

2D shuddered at the thought of what would happen if Cyborg had caught a virus. "I'ss not loik dat. Umm… Ah'm 'avin' trouble readin' some uhh… damaged files. Ah wos wonderin' if Ah could send 'em ta yew an' see if yew could read 'em?"

"Wireless network "Dullard" is not granted access to-"

"Let 'im do it, Cyborg." Her blitzed master commanded. "It's not everyday ye get th' chance t' take a peek at th' other side… sounds like an episode o' th' Twilight Zone or something." He wiggled his fingers and made cackled ominously for dramatic effect.

2D faced Cyborg, trying to remember how she had connected their minds last time. He tried to keep his horribly dilated eyes open as he bit his lip in concentration, staring directly at her. After a few seconds, a shuddering jolt ran up his spine, and his memories from the past 2 days flashed by like a late night b movie in fast forward. The scenes progressed until they reached the present moment, and a sudden spark broke the two painfully out of their trance.

"Well, anyfink neat?" 2D asked as he rubbed his sore temples.

Cyborg whirred and beeped for a moment, trying to process the keyboardist's memories. "Data is saved as an unknown file type. Unable to read data. What program would you suggest to read the files?"

"Try that human simulator you used earlier," Murdoc interjected with a dark grin. "This should be verrrrry interesting."

The bionic girl set to switching from her normal mode, her eyes suddenly growing large with emotion. She stared into space, her expression gradually changing from curious interest, to looking like she was watching a particularly gory horror movie. The whirring from her processors grew louder until she let out a shrill scream, grasping her head in her hands. She writhed on the floor, trying to stop the images playing in her mind, until she finally ran down the stairs, stumbling over the coffee table on her way.

Murdoc, finding the whole episode hilarious, pounded his fist on the sofa arm in laughter. "Did ye see that, Two Dents? Ah think ye finally broke 'er! She went completely mental!"

The Satanist looked over to find 2D fast asleep on the floor, gripping at the shag carpeting like the edges of a blanket. Murdoc scoffed lightly, noticing the knotted tie tangled around the vocalist's neck. He bent down to loosen it, to ensure 2D didn't manage to strangle himself in his sleep. "Fucking twat cahn't even Google how to tie a tie," Murdoc yawned loudly as he scratched his backside and swaggered to his bedroom, leaving 2D snoring peacefully to the backdrop of moaning girls emanating from the tv.