Thanks everybody for reading and reviewing, I'm going to try to keep this
one going and make it as long as I can. :)
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Chandler left the apartment and shut the door and was engulfed by ..silence. Refreshing silence. He felt hotter than usual, as if he were burning from the inside out, inside the apartment and by the end of the hour be a pile of burnt 'spontaneous combustion' ashes sitting on the couch. The hallway was cooler. He sat down on the step outside of the apartment door and leaned back so he was laying down, cigarette pack in his right hand and lighter in his left.
"Miss Bing, you've really outdone yourself this time," he said aloud in an attempted British accent, a horribly attempted British accent. (But no worse than Joey's.)
Chandler looked up at the ceiling and fished out a cigarette, keeping the pack on his chest.
He did realize that Monica could easily come out and catch him smoking, but at that moment he didn't care.
"Why Mistah Bing, whatever are you talking about?" Same British accent, now about three octaves higher, sounding like a transsexual. He stuck the cigarette between his lips, still staring upwards.
"That's not what you told me last night," and back to the manly voice.
He held up the green bic lighter.
"I resent that! This is sexual harassment. I'm going to-" he stopped his Miss. Bing impression in mid-sentence and turned his eyes towards his hand. His thumb rested on the wheel, ready to ignite the small spark that would create a small flame to light his cigarette.
The lighter was warm. Why was the lighter warm? It hadn't been used in weeks. He wasn't sweating 'that much'. Something was wrong. He turned the lighter over in his hand, still looking at it, and his thumb stopped in position at the wheel again. That feeling returned.
He stared at the lighter intensely. It seemed to be glowing..? Or was it vibrating. Chandler sat up to a sitting position.
"What the.." he said out loud. It started to shake violently in his hand like it were a ticking time bomb and would blow up any second.
Chandler turned the lighter over in his hand again and it started to burn his hand. Literally. He shrieked, the cigarette fell from his mouth, and he threw the lighter against a wall in front of him just as his apartment door opened.
Joey stood there, right when the lighter flew past him and hit the wall.
It didn't blow up.
Joey looked at the lighter on the floor and then at Chandler who was staring at it horribly.
"Though I was Monica huh?" he said and shook his head a little bit. In truth, Chandler hadn't even noticed anybody open the door until Joey had said that.
"Huh? Oh yeah," he answered quickly and took the cigarette from his mouth. "What are you doing out here?" Chandler continued.
"Ross is talking about Sea-Monkeys and I didn't feel like talking about Dinosaurs. Besides, Baywatch is on, you coming?" Joey took the few steps to his own apartment door.
"That's okay, you on on without me," Chandler draped his arms over his knees. Now the floor was moving up and down making him nauseous.
Joey stopped and spun around to face him, as if Chandler had just confessed that him and Ross were having a child together. Horrified. Mouth open, he started pointing in horror. "Who are you??"
Chandler rubbed his face with his hands sticking his fingers in his eye sockets. He mumbled something but it didn't come out as English because of his hands.
"My name is Miss. Chanandler Bong," he said through his hands after the mumble in the incredibly high British accent.
Joey raised his eyebrow at the voice, but it wasn't seen by the man sitting on the step in the hallway.
"I am not available to take your call at the moment, but if you leave your name, I'll be sure to get back to you."
Just as Joey was about to say something along the lines of 'what the hell?' another sound came from Chandler.
"Beeeeeeeeep."
"Uhh.." Joey answered unsure of what to say, then he added, "Did the aliens come? Did they probe you??"
Chandler smirked from behind his hands and then removed them, hoping that the floor had stopped vibrating.
It hadn't.
"Nah I'm just tired; I'm going to go to bed." He stood up and then wearily almost fell over like a drunk. Joey caught his right arm to prevent him from falling and looked at him weird again.
"You just run a marathon or what dude?"
"Feels like it."
They went their separate ways. Joe went in his bachelor pad to watch the girls run the beach, and Chandler went in his to announce that he was going to get to bed. He did have work in the morning, after all.
Monica gave him a kiss, told him she'd be in soon and then went back to Chatter with Ross and Rachel about something or other.
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Chandler laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. It was moving slowly closer to him. Pressing him down like a sandwich. He shut his eyes. He felt drunk, like he was having 'the spins'.
He snapped his eyes open again. He was being watched. By who or what? His eyes glided around the room looking for a hint.
Nothing. Wait..
Holy crap there was a blinking red light. Why was there a blinking red light in his bedroom? Was that a camera?
Holy crap it was. It had to be. What else had a red light like that.
He stopped looking at the light because he knew that whoever was watching him on the other side of the camera would see that he had discovered them and then probably come to kill him.
He looked at the ceiling again too nervous to look back at the red light. It was like an evil eye. I was like if he dared look at the light again it would use its powers to fry out his eyes so he couldn't look -anywhere-.
Chandler risked it, however, and looked back at the light. They probably had a night vision camera so they could see every facial expression.
He threw the blanket over his head even though it was already much too hot. His heart was pounding; it pulsed in his ears like it had done before.
He pulled the blanket off his head. He was burning alive under there. Ignoring the camera for a moment, Chandler sat up and pulled his white t- shirt off his head and threw it down on the floor beside him. He brushed his sweaty hair back and laid back down, blanket up to his waist. He closed his eyes.
There was the red light, now in his mind. The camera was also recording his thoughts!
Chandler kicked the blankets off his legs and sprawled them out so he could cool off.
He opened his eyes again and looked towards the dresser for the light. It was gone.
Good.
He closed his eyes and prepared to sleep.
Maroon. Dark red. Red. Bright red. The light faded in and stayed idle in his mind.
'Stop it!' he screamed in his mind. The light faded and went away. 'Ha!' he screamed in his mind again. Big bad Chandler had scared it away, take that!
He opened his eyes.
The light was back.
"Oh come on!" He sat up quickly and said angrily at the light directly in front of him. How could it magically morph from his bedroom to his mind? Knowing that he was giving an actual reason himself to be murdered by the 'camera people', he laid back down and now seriously tried to sleep, red light or no red light.
Suddenly the bedroom door opened and a dark figure crept around the front of the bed.
He sat up again and pointed at the murderer.
"Oh no you don't!" and the figure was startled.
"Sweetie, it's just me." It was Monica. Not the murderer. They hadn't come for him yet.
He settled back down. The light was still there, watching the whole thing. Maybe they would kill Monica too?
"Who did you expect it to be?" she asked curiously, not moving from the foot of the bed.
He could not reveal what he knew about the murderers.
"Nobody," he answered back.
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X
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Chandler left the apartment and shut the door and was engulfed by ..silence. Refreshing silence. He felt hotter than usual, as if he were burning from the inside out, inside the apartment and by the end of the hour be a pile of burnt 'spontaneous combustion' ashes sitting on the couch. The hallway was cooler. He sat down on the step outside of the apartment door and leaned back so he was laying down, cigarette pack in his right hand and lighter in his left.
"Miss Bing, you've really outdone yourself this time," he said aloud in an attempted British accent, a horribly attempted British accent. (But no worse than Joey's.)
Chandler looked up at the ceiling and fished out a cigarette, keeping the pack on his chest.
He did realize that Monica could easily come out and catch him smoking, but at that moment he didn't care.
"Why Mistah Bing, whatever are you talking about?" Same British accent, now about three octaves higher, sounding like a transsexual. He stuck the cigarette between his lips, still staring upwards.
"That's not what you told me last night," and back to the manly voice.
He held up the green bic lighter.
"I resent that! This is sexual harassment. I'm going to-" he stopped his Miss. Bing impression in mid-sentence and turned his eyes towards his hand. His thumb rested on the wheel, ready to ignite the small spark that would create a small flame to light his cigarette.
The lighter was warm. Why was the lighter warm? It hadn't been used in weeks. He wasn't sweating 'that much'. Something was wrong. He turned the lighter over in his hand, still looking at it, and his thumb stopped in position at the wheel again. That feeling returned.
He stared at the lighter intensely. It seemed to be glowing..? Or was it vibrating. Chandler sat up to a sitting position.
"What the.." he said out loud. It started to shake violently in his hand like it were a ticking time bomb and would blow up any second.
Chandler turned the lighter over in his hand again and it started to burn his hand. Literally. He shrieked, the cigarette fell from his mouth, and he threw the lighter against a wall in front of him just as his apartment door opened.
Joey stood there, right when the lighter flew past him and hit the wall.
It didn't blow up.
Joey looked at the lighter on the floor and then at Chandler who was staring at it horribly.
"Though I was Monica huh?" he said and shook his head a little bit. In truth, Chandler hadn't even noticed anybody open the door until Joey had said that.
"Huh? Oh yeah," he answered quickly and took the cigarette from his mouth. "What are you doing out here?" Chandler continued.
"Ross is talking about Sea-Monkeys and I didn't feel like talking about Dinosaurs. Besides, Baywatch is on, you coming?" Joey took the few steps to his own apartment door.
"That's okay, you on on without me," Chandler draped his arms over his knees. Now the floor was moving up and down making him nauseous.
Joey stopped and spun around to face him, as if Chandler had just confessed that him and Ross were having a child together. Horrified. Mouth open, he started pointing in horror. "Who are you??"
Chandler rubbed his face with his hands sticking his fingers in his eye sockets. He mumbled something but it didn't come out as English because of his hands.
"My name is Miss. Chanandler Bong," he said through his hands after the mumble in the incredibly high British accent.
Joey raised his eyebrow at the voice, but it wasn't seen by the man sitting on the step in the hallway.
"I am not available to take your call at the moment, but if you leave your name, I'll be sure to get back to you."
Just as Joey was about to say something along the lines of 'what the hell?' another sound came from Chandler.
"Beeeeeeeeep."
"Uhh.." Joey answered unsure of what to say, then he added, "Did the aliens come? Did they probe you??"
Chandler smirked from behind his hands and then removed them, hoping that the floor had stopped vibrating.
It hadn't.
"Nah I'm just tired; I'm going to go to bed." He stood up and then wearily almost fell over like a drunk. Joey caught his right arm to prevent him from falling and looked at him weird again.
"You just run a marathon or what dude?"
"Feels like it."
They went their separate ways. Joe went in his bachelor pad to watch the girls run the beach, and Chandler went in his to announce that he was going to get to bed. He did have work in the morning, after all.
Monica gave him a kiss, told him she'd be in soon and then went back to Chatter with Ross and Rachel about something or other.
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Chandler laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. It was moving slowly closer to him. Pressing him down like a sandwich. He shut his eyes. He felt drunk, like he was having 'the spins'.
He snapped his eyes open again. He was being watched. By who or what? His eyes glided around the room looking for a hint.
Nothing. Wait..
Holy crap there was a blinking red light. Why was there a blinking red light in his bedroom? Was that a camera?
Holy crap it was. It had to be. What else had a red light like that.
He stopped looking at the light because he knew that whoever was watching him on the other side of the camera would see that he had discovered them and then probably come to kill him.
He looked at the ceiling again too nervous to look back at the red light. It was like an evil eye. I was like if he dared look at the light again it would use its powers to fry out his eyes so he couldn't look -anywhere-.
Chandler risked it, however, and looked back at the light. They probably had a night vision camera so they could see every facial expression.
He threw the blanket over his head even though it was already much too hot. His heart was pounding; it pulsed in his ears like it had done before.
He pulled the blanket off his head. He was burning alive under there. Ignoring the camera for a moment, Chandler sat up and pulled his white t- shirt off his head and threw it down on the floor beside him. He brushed his sweaty hair back and laid back down, blanket up to his waist. He closed his eyes.
There was the red light, now in his mind. The camera was also recording his thoughts!
Chandler kicked the blankets off his legs and sprawled them out so he could cool off.
He opened his eyes again and looked towards the dresser for the light. It was gone.
Good.
He closed his eyes and prepared to sleep.
Maroon. Dark red. Red. Bright red. The light faded in and stayed idle in his mind.
'Stop it!' he screamed in his mind. The light faded and went away. 'Ha!' he screamed in his mind again. Big bad Chandler had scared it away, take that!
He opened his eyes.
The light was back.
"Oh come on!" He sat up quickly and said angrily at the light directly in front of him. How could it magically morph from his bedroom to his mind? Knowing that he was giving an actual reason himself to be murdered by the 'camera people', he laid back down and now seriously tried to sleep, red light or no red light.
Suddenly the bedroom door opened and a dark figure crept around the front of the bed.
He sat up again and pointed at the murderer.
"Oh no you don't!" and the figure was startled.
"Sweetie, it's just me." It was Monica. Not the murderer. They hadn't come for him yet.
He settled back down. The light was still there, watching the whole thing. Maybe they would kill Monica too?
"Who did you expect it to be?" she asked curiously, not moving from the foot of the bed.
He could not reveal what he knew about the murderers.
"Nobody," he answered back.
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