Insomnia
by: de-chan [dekiru-chan] blah blah
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The author of this story will pause before her journey to this fantasized land and warn the readers of dire consequences of handling toothpicks and highlighters in the acclaimed ways of Duo. If you wish to injure yourself... have fun.
You have been warned.
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He wanted to sleep, actually, very badly. He had spent the last couple of hours wasting away on what Heero called "that _game_" with a special little lilt at the end.
"You only play that _game_ for the animation and women." He said in that flat, unfeeling tone as he passed Duo's room, giving the chestnut-haired boy a backwards glance.
Duo smirked. Of course, what else was there in the world? Perhaps other people had more substance to their lives... he just didn't.
Little did he know... of the sickening twist in the threads of his life.
He played with vigor, cheering softly to himself. Yet as the night wore on and daybreak threatened to shun the darkness, a pair of violet eyes blinked once and his brain faded gray, screaming at him to get under the damn blankets and rest.
He snuggled under the covers, his hair splayed like a bird's nest to nestle around his heart-shaped face. His breathing slowed and his eyes gradually, little by little, closed.
The clock ticked. Tock. Tick. Tock. He wondered what he would have for breakfast.
Wait. Damn. Tick. Tock. Heero was cooking. Duo made a face. Health pellets or some cabbage shreds. Yum.
Twenty minutes later. A frown creased his brow. Maybe he should ask Quatre what was wrong. The Arabian boy had a wide collection of tea, perhaps he had some herbal sedative.
Duo snorted, yeah and then maybe the pink-clad boy would tuck him in and read him a bedtime story. Like the Little Engine that Could and Alice in the Wonderland and all that crap. But he was still a nice kid... just a little too kind for his own safety... or sanity.
His eyes looked upon his digital clock, watching as the green sticks rearranged themselves into different numbers. Then, unexpectedly, muttered obscenities filled the room, as he tossed and turned, violently punching his pillows and staring blankly at the ceiling. But all was futile. The fact was clear:
Duo could not sleep.
Yet his adventures did not begin until he decided to rise and retrieve a midnight snack. There would be no healthy hamster food for him on the morrow. He glanced at his clock. How nice. The green numbers had turned into a cryptic word. Normally, he would have thrown a fit and roused the household with his screams of "HOLY SHITTIN NATAKU" [ to the chagrin of Wufei ], yet he remained eerily calm, as if words that popped up on his clock was something completely expected.
"Card?" he muttered, as he picked up the clock and shook it. The word remained immutable. Shrugging apathetically, he tossed it into the garbage pail with a noisy clatter. "Clow Card... hm..." he reminisced of a TV show he had recently seen. "Typical CLAMP with their poofylyitic eyes and yaoi-nessly hints."
Duo stopped. Of course his speech wasn't as articulate and blatantly polished to pierce like the poison daggers of Relena, but... really... "poofylyitic"? Maybe his stomach was _really_ getting to him.
The braided boy padded stealthily into the kitchen on silent feet, then blinked and shrugged as he walked noisily into the tiled floor. He didn't care if anyone heard him, he paid the portion of the rent and food, which was exactly what he needed.
He opened the refrigerator and peered in. Reaching in, his slender fingers closed around a cold can.
"Let's see. Pepsi. Coke... Beer? We have beer?" He paused, but shrugged once more. "Sure, why not?" He snapped open the can, not intending to get drunk, but ten minutes later he found that he had an unnaturally low tolerance for alcohol at night.
Duo blinked. Obviously wandering around in the apartment-- the third floor-- in a drunken stupor would _not_ be the wisest choice; he could fling himself off the balcony for no reason really... just for fun. So he headed for his bedroom, reeling wildly as he bumped down the hall towards the door on the left.
Suddenly, he found himself upside down.
He stopped and scowled at a lamp on the ground.
Dammit.
He squinted at the ceiling-- err. Floor... The floor on the ceiling.
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pause for disclaimer:
Warning: the consuming of beer and other alcoholic drinks will not necessarily cause the floor to become the ceiling... nor enable the subject to superhuman powers, such as being able to fly, speak to animals, or drink large amounts of bleach without any harm.
Thank you.
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He wasn't really _that_ drunk. It was only a single beer and he had consumed considerably much more than that amount to get this...
this...
damn.
"It's like my brain just went, like, *poof*, I can't think of anything... normal." He found himself talking to thin air, his tone carried the wounded pride of a disturbed man talking to his psychiatrist. "This isn't real, Duo... it's a dream, isn't it?" He laughed a worried chuckle that seemed to echo, supplication dripping for reassurance.
He paused for a moment. "Or that was a bottle of Heero's arsenic I drank... and I died and I went to Hell."
A white rabbit with a navy blue waistcoat ran in front of him, snatched his beer can and purposely smacked, then _dissolved_ into a wall with a decidedly vicious giggle.
.....
The silence was deafening.
Then a firm and certain, "Yes. I'm in Hell now."
Author's Note:
Can you even remotely guess what this is about? Yeah, parody blah blah blah, Duo with the use of armaments blah blah, screwing with your mind as he slips in and out of... whatever. Yes. I'm so eloquent.
I guess I'm _not_ dead. The school year ended nicely and summer has started and I can live a life again. I'm actually supposed to be doing some Latin Homework, but this stupid little paragraph is more important.... Yes, it is and don't deny it. What kind of fool would be taking LATIN in the friggin' summer?
Apparently it's me.... also... it's two paragraphs and a strange little sentence on the bottom. *rolls eyes* =3
---signing off: it's de-chan ^_^