Author's opening message: Well, here's chapter 2. One step closer, ne?
Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!
Disclaimer: Loki & Bartleby were created by Kevin Smith. The concept of God was created by monotheistic religious factions. The use of a woman as God was also created by Kevin Smith, though not first-hand, although the use of Alanis Morrisette as God was created solely by Kevin Smith. Alanis Morrisette was created by God. All other characters that are used were created by me.
Rated R for language.
***
The rosy fingers of dawn crept over Boston's landscape, filtering through the windows and creeping across the floors before landing on the face of a sleeping Loki. He groaned, rolled over, and pulled the covers over him --which ended up pulling them completely off of Bartleby, who was up on the bed.
It was the first morning in the small apartment shared by the two. God was paying the bill for a fully furnished apartment and an endless supply of gum, though both angles quite missed the joys of being human, even if they'd only experienced it a few minutes.
Bartleby moaned loudly and sat up. He yanked the wadded covers off his friend, threw them on the bed, got up, and kicked Loki's shoulder, all in one swift motion. "Hey!" Loki grumbled, sitting up. "What was that all about?"
"You stole my blanket, you dick," Bartleby said, yawning.
"It's not exactly warm in New England in January, you know," Loki pointed out.
Bartleby fixed his companion with a pointed stare. "I know. That's why I was using the blanket." He strode out of his room into the bathroom the angels shared, Loki hot on his heels. "Why were you in my room, anyway? Hoping to get laid or something? 'Cause I'm not gay, you know."
"You're an angel, you know," Loki said. "You're asexual, by definition." He smirked, jerked his thumb at Bartleby's boxers. "Or lack thereof," he added, and cracked up at his own lame joke.
Bartleby shook his head and began to wash his face. "Either way. You have your own room. Sleep in it."
Loki looked embarrassed. "I don't take well to new places."
"You're scared of the dark in a new apartment, but you have no qualms whatsoever with shooting a couple making out on a moving bus," Bartleby said.
"I didn't see you protesting, exactly. Besides, we were *all* created with imperfections," Loki countered. "Such as your love for Hallmark cards and the Lifetime channel, and your apparent disregard for authority." His gaze flickered briefly upwards, and Bartleby rolled his eyes.
"So what's on tap for today," Bartleby drawled, running a razor over his face.
"He signed us up with a contract," Loki said. He shoved his friend out of the way and started to preen like peacock. Bartleby looked disgusted and shoved him out of the way. Loki elbowed the Grigori back. "Dude! I've got a *razor* here," Bartleby said irritably, waving the foam-covered tool in the air to demonstrate his point.
"Dude! You don't bleed."
Bartleby sighed and threw his hands up. "Oh, fine. Just take *all* the mystery out of our existence, why don't you."
"So He set us up with a contract, we're going to a studio and filming today," Loki said. He opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but faltered. Bartleby turned to see the Angel of Death fixated on the toilet.
"It's a toilet."
"I know."
"You do realize you have no digestive system to speak of."
"I know. D'ya think they charge us extra for that thing?"
Bartleby sighed. "You're like a child, you know that? A fucking child."
"Better a child than a crotchety old man!" Loki countered. "Would you hurry up already? We're going to be late."
"Since when did you become punctual?" Bartleby grumbled, exiting the room.
***
The director on the set was a tall, thin, and very cheerful man by the name of Gareth Quentin. Loki, upon meeting him, whispered to Bartleby that Gareth reminded him of the character Jack on "Will & Grace".
"I'd love to do a guest spot on that show," Loki enthused.
Gareth's assistant was a short, plump Swede known only as Uli, who didn't speak a word English and merely ran around the set, barking directions at crew members that didn't speak a word of Swedish. Bartleby, leaning against a back wall, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, watched with amusement as Loki ran around wide-eyed like a kid in a candy store for the first time.
"Hey, there," Bartleby said, snagging the arm of a passing gaffer. "Can you tell me what the fuck kind of commercial I'm filming here?"
The guy shrugged himself loose. "Thing for McDonald's."
Bartleby gaped. "You kidding me? So the guy over there in the big shoes isn't just for show?"
"Guess not. Look, if you're one of the 'stars' of this piece of crap, I suggest you go over to Gay-eth there and make nice so he doesn't get your bad side, okay, chief?"
"You don't want to make me mad, *chief*," Bartleby said in a menacing tone, feeling some of that old aggression building up again. God must really hate him. He rushed over to Gareth, who was surrounded by an exuberant Loki and a bored-looking Uli.
"Hi, Mr. Quentin..." Bartleby began.
"Call me Gareth," the director said, turning. He ran his gaze over Bartleby appreciatively, and let out a low whistle. "Although *you* can call me whatever you want, sugar," he drawled.
"Um, yeah. Okay. I was just wondering, are we doing a McDonald's commercial?"
"Why, you do your homework!" Gareth said gleefully, "Yes, we're doing a McDonald's commercial to try and appeal to an adult demographic," he declared, placing a hand on Bartleby's arm and squeezing his bicep. "Ooh, so strong..."
"Yeah, and he likes to throw people against fucking walls, too," Loki said with a glare.
"I thought you forgave me," Bartleby jumped in, groping directors out of his mind in an instant.
"I forgave you for fucking killing me, not for throwing me against the wall and scaring the shit out of me," Loki replied.
"Look, Sparky..."
"This is cute and all, but could we puh-lease get to work?" Gareth said somewhat impatiently. "We have a deadline, and Mr. Sexy Clown over there is on a verrrrry expensive time card, okey-dokey karaoke?"
Loki and Bartleby could only stare open-mouthed at Gareth. The director smiled, and clapped his hands. "Okay then. Let's get to work, people!"
***FIN***
Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!
Disclaimer: Loki & Bartleby were created by Kevin Smith. The concept of God was created by monotheistic religious factions. The use of a woman as God was also created by Kevin Smith, though not first-hand, although the use of Alanis Morrisette as God was created solely by Kevin Smith. Alanis Morrisette was created by God. All other characters that are used were created by me.
Rated R for language.
***
The rosy fingers of dawn crept over Boston's landscape, filtering through the windows and creeping across the floors before landing on the face of a sleeping Loki. He groaned, rolled over, and pulled the covers over him --which ended up pulling them completely off of Bartleby, who was up on the bed.
It was the first morning in the small apartment shared by the two. God was paying the bill for a fully furnished apartment and an endless supply of gum, though both angles quite missed the joys of being human, even if they'd only experienced it a few minutes.
Bartleby moaned loudly and sat up. He yanked the wadded covers off his friend, threw them on the bed, got up, and kicked Loki's shoulder, all in one swift motion. "Hey!" Loki grumbled, sitting up. "What was that all about?"
"You stole my blanket, you dick," Bartleby said, yawning.
"It's not exactly warm in New England in January, you know," Loki pointed out.
Bartleby fixed his companion with a pointed stare. "I know. That's why I was using the blanket." He strode out of his room into the bathroom the angels shared, Loki hot on his heels. "Why were you in my room, anyway? Hoping to get laid or something? 'Cause I'm not gay, you know."
"You're an angel, you know," Loki said. "You're asexual, by definition." He smirked, jerked his thumb at Bartleby's boxers. "Or lack thereof," he added, and cracked up at his own lame joke.
Bartleby shook his head and began to wash his face. "Either way. You have your own room. Sleep in it."
Loki looked embarrassed. "I don't take well to new places."
"You're scared of the dark in a new apartment, but you have no qualms whatsoever with shooting a couple making out on a moving bus," Bartleby said.
"I didn't see you protesting, exactly. Besides, we were *all* created with imperfections," Loki countered. "Such as your love for Hallmark cards and the Lifetime channel, and your apparent disregard for authority." His gaze flickered briefly upwards, and Bartleby rolled his eyes.
"So what's on tap for today," Bartleby drawled, running a razor over his face.
"He signed us up with a contract," Loki said. He shoved his friend out of the way and started to preen like peacock. Bartleby looked disgusted and shoved him out of the way. Loki elbowed the Grigori back. "Dude! I've got a *razor* here," Bartleby said irritably, waving the foam-covered tool in the air to demonstrate his point.
"Dude! You don't bleed."
Bartleby sighed and threw his hands up. "Oh, fine. Just take *all* the mystery out of our existence, why don't you."
"So He set us up with a contract, we're going to a studio and filming today," Loki said. He opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but faltered. Bartleby turned to see the Angel of Death fixated on the toilet.
"It's a toilet."
"I know."
"You do realize you have no digestive system to speak of."
"I know. D'ya think they charge us extra for that thing?"
Bartleby sighed. "You're like a child, you know that? A fucking child."
"Better a child than a crotchety old man!" Loki countered. "Would you hurry up already? We're going to be late."
"Since when did you become punctual?" Bartleby grumbled, exiting the room.
***
The director on the set was a tall, thin, and very cheerful man by the name of Gareth Quentin. Loki, upon meeting him, whispered to Bartleby that Gareth reminded him of the character Jack on "Will & Grace".
"I'd love to do a guest spot on that show," Loki enthused.
Gareth's assistant was a short, plump Swede known only as Uli, who didn't speak a word English and merely ran around the set, barking directions at crew members that didn't speak a word of Swedish. Bartleby, leaning against a back wall, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, watched with amusement as Loki ran around wide-eyed like a kid in a candy store for the first time.
"Hey, there," Bartleby said, snagging the arm of a passing gaffer. "Can you tell me what the fuck kind of commercial I'm filming here?"
The guy shrugged himself loose. "Thing for McDonald's."
Bartleby gaped. "You kidding me? So the guy over there in the big shoes isn't just for show?"
"Guess not. Look, if you're one of the 'stars' of this piece of crap, I suggest you go over to Gay-eth there and make nice so he doesn't get your bad side, okay, chief?"
"You don't want to make me mad, *chief*," Bartleby said in a menacing tone, feeling some of that old aggression building up again. God must really hate him. He rushed over to Gareth, who was surrounded by an exuberant Loki and a bored-looking Uli.
"Hi, Mr. Quentin..." Bartleby began.
"Call me Gareth," the director said, turning. He ran his gaze over Bartleby appreciatively, and let out a low whistle. "Although *you* can call me whatever you want, sugar," he drawled.
"Um, yeah. Okay. I was just wondering, are we doing a McDonald's commercial?"
"Why, you do your homework!" Gareth said gleefully, "Yes, we're doing a McDonald's commercial to try and appeal to an adult demographic," he declared, placing a hand on Bartleby's arm and squeezing his bicep. "Ooh, so strong..."
"Yeah, and he likes to throw people against fucking walls, too," Loki said with a glare.
"I thought you forgave me," Bartleby jumped in, groping directors out of his mind in an instant.
"I forgave you for fucking killing me, not for throwing me against the wall and scaring the shit out of me," Loki replied.
"Look, Sparky..."
"This is cute and all, but could we puh-lease get to work?" Gareth said somewhat impatiently. "We have a deadline, and Mr. Sexy Clown over there is on a verrrrry expensive time card, okey-dokey karaoke?"
Loki and Bartleby could only stare open-mouthed at Gareth. The director smiled, and clapped his hands. "Okay then. Let's get to work, people!"
***FIN***