CHAPTER 3
Christian had been working all day at the unpleasant task of sponge bathing Bubba. It was pretty disgusting at first, but after a while, Christian got used to it. Thankfully, dinner time arrived. The prisoners scrambled down to the cafeteria.
Christian stood in line with his styrofoam tray, patiently waiting to be served. Once he had reached the serving table, Christian was disappointed when a man plopped cold mushy, brown stuff on his tray. Christian had rather been hoping for some hot soup. He moved down the line, each food looking quite disgusting to Christian. Christian was used to being pampered with nice food at Daddy's mansion, but he knew he left all that behind and this was his life now.
Once his tray was full of "food" Christian stood in front of the vast dining hall, trying to find a spot to sit. Christian, realizing he had no friends or anyone to sit with, noted how similar this was to high school.
He took in a deep breath and did a little "eenie meenie minie moe" in his head. The last "moe" ended up on a table at the back. He walked over to it and sat next to a hunched over man with a long, silver beard petting something in his pocket.
Christian: "Good evening, sir!"
The man, who was muttering something to himself under his breath, turned his head and looked at his Christian. His eye twitched as he studied Christian's face.
Christian: "I said, good evening!"
Man: "I know what yuh said, lad."
Christian: "I'm Christian. What's your name?"
Man: "Name's Xavier."
Xavier resumed to petting the thing in his pocket.
Christian: "Say, mister, what cha got in your pocket there?"
Xavier lighted up at this. He turned to him and smiled crookedly.
Xavier: "It be me friend, Mr. Dick."
Christian: "Pardon me?"
Xavier: "Yeah, when I got the time, I jus' sit and pet Mr. Dick."
Christian: "Oh, I see."
Xavier looked pulled open his pocket and looked down at Mr. Dick with a caring, motherly expression.
Xavier: (in a babying voice) "Yes, I like to pet my Dick, don't I?"
Christian nearly choked on his food. He started to become extremely uncomfortable.
Xavier: "Yuh wanna see 'em?"
Christian: "No, no! That's quite alright. Um . . . please, do excuse me and your Dick but I . . . have to go!"
With that, he scurried from the table. Xavier sighed and stared down at Mr. Dick.
Xavier: "Why do they always leave like that?"
He shrugged and began to stroke Mr. Dick again.
Xavier: "Oh well, maybe people jus' don't like mice . . . "
FROM BEETLE: Oh behave! LOL, this is the weirdest fic I have written yet. Oh well. Please review!!!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Moulin Rouge . . . yada yada yada.
Christian had been working all day at the unpleasant task of sponge bathing Bubba. It was pretty disgusting at first, but after a while, Christian got used to it. Thankfully, dinner time arrived. The prisoners scrambled down to the cafeteria.
Christian stood in line with his styrofoam tray, patiently waiting to be served. Once he had reached the serving table, Christian was disappointed when a man plopped cold mushy, brown stuff on his tray. Christian had rather been hoping for some hot soup. He moved down the line, each food looking quite disgusting to Christian. Christian was used to being pampered with nice food at Daddy's mansion, but he knew he left all that behind and this was his life now.
Once his tray was full of "food" Christian stood in front of the vast dining hall, trying to find a spot to sit. Christian, realizing he had no friends or anyone to sit with, noted how similar this was to high school.
He took in a deep breath and did a little "eenie meenie minie moe" in his head. The last "moe" ended up on a table at the back. He walked over to it and sat next to a hunched over man with a long, silver beard petting something in his pocket.
Christian: "Good evening, sir!"
The man, who was muttering something to himself under his breath, turned his head and looked at his Christian. His eye twitched as he studied Christian's face.
Christian: "I said, good evening!"
Man: "I know what yuh said, lad."
Christian: "I'm Christian. What's your name?"
Man: "Name's Xavier."
Xavier resumed to petting the thing in his pocket.
Christian: "Say, mister, what cha got in your pocket there?"
Xavier lighted up at this. He turned to him and smiled crookedly.
Xavier: "It be me friend, Mr. Dick."
Christian: "Pardon me?"
Xavier: "Yeah, when I got the time, I jus' sit and pet Mr. Dick."
Christian: "Oh, I see."
Xavier looked pulled open his pocket and looked down at Mr. Dick with a caring, motherly expression.
Xavier: (in a babying voice) "Yes, I like to pet my Dick, don't I?"
Christian nearly choked on his food. He started to become extremely uncomfortable.
Xavier: "Yuh wanna see 'em?"
Christian: "No, no! That's quite alright. Um . . . please, do excuse me and your Dick but I . . . have to go!"
With that, he scurried from the table. Xavier sighed and stared down at Mr. Dick.
Xavier: "Why do they always leave like that?"
He shrugged and began to stroke Mr. Dick again.
Xavier: "Oh well, maybe people jus' don't like mice . . . "
FROM BEETLE: Oh behave! LOL, this is the weirdest fic I have written yet. Oh well. Please review!!!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Moulin Rouge . . . yada yada yada.