Two updates in one hour!!! YES!!!! This is utterly pointless, you do realize that? But I'd still appreciate reviews!!! )

It was smooth. Flowing. Grooving, even. Until-

"It's no use!" 2D moaned, putting a hand on his heart and melodramatically letting the microphone fall from his spindly fingers.

Murdoc dropped his bass in annoyance and walked over to 2D. "We've got a killer bassline, a fucking great rap and a chorus that's gonna blow all those Clint Eastwood references outta the house," he told the singer. Then he leaned his face in to 2D's, so close that Russel was about to make a scathing remark questioning the bassists sexuality, and that millions of 2D/Murdoc slashers around the world were squeeing with delight. But back to Murdoc.

"WHAT'S YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM?" Murdoc screamed, demonstrating to 2D exactly how long it had been since he had cleaned his teeth.

"We-e-ell," 2D began, annoyingly, once the air had cleared and he'd stopped choking. "I just don't understand my motivation in this song. I mean, what role do windmills play in my life? I need summink to work with here!"

Murdoc sighed, looking towards the heavens. "Why, oh why, did we take him to Hollywood with us?"

Russel frowned. "He's part of the team, Muds," he chastised. But, inwardly he wondered the same thing. Ever since the failed attempt to make a Gorillaz movie, 2D had been speaking in 'Hollywood terms'. And it was beginning to really piss Russel off.

Noodle tried to shed some light for 2D on his "motivation". "See, 2D-san, you are feeling a great longing-"

"For the windmill?" 2D asked, "'cause that's the part I'm having trouble with."

Murdoc opted for some heavy sarcasm. "Oh, nah."

Noodle sighed, wondering how to explain this. "Look, the windmill is not a windmill. The windmill is a metaphor. Or maybe a similie…"

"Oh please," Murdoc sneered. "Dullard's confused enough as it is. Keep the vocabulary limited to four letter words please."

"Okay, we'll stick with the metaphor. Okay, 2D? The windmill is a metaphor."

2D tried to comprehend this concept. "So, the windmill could be, like, a rubbish bin. Or a TV."

"Well, no." Noodle thought deeply. This was hard! "The windmill is a windmill. But it is also so much more."

"Like those CD players that double as cassette players?"

"Well … sort of …"

"Are we quite done yet?" Murdoc interrupted, plucking a string on his bass impatiently.

"No," 2D said. "I still don't understand my longing for this windmill/garbage can/tape player that doubles as a cassette player."

Murdoc looked at Noodle, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think he's quite got the idea."

Noodle nodded. "I would have to agree there."

"Look 2D, bro," Russel began. "Think of the windmill as a-"

Murdoc sighed. "Oh, fuck this," he muttered, getting the feeling the dullard was never going to get it.

Russel raised his eyebrows at Murdoc. "You try then, if you think you could to so much better."

Murdoc scowled at Russel. "'D, LOOK AT ME," he shouted at 2D. "THE WINDMILL."

"Yes?" 2D replied.

"IS A FUCKING WINDMILL."

"I understand that part," 2D said, shaking his head. "It's just-"

Murdoc sighed, fed up. "Just pretend the windmill is Paula, imagine me and her getting it on and, voila, instant longingness."

Russel looked at Murdoc. "Each day you are sounding more and more like a celebrity chef, you know that?"

Murdoc gave him the finger, before picking up his bass. "Problem solved, D?"

"We-e-ell…"

Murdoc grinned. "Hey, Paula, wanna come into my Winnebago and-"

"Okay!" 2D raised his voice. "Problem solved." He picked up the microphone and hesitated. "I'll just pretend the windmill is my teddy bear."