Psychic City: Just as a side note, Barbra the pub waitress is not an OC. Well, in the sense that she doesn't really exist in the Gorillaz world, she is; but she's only in the story for flow purposes, and not to end up with any of the characters. I personally have a hard time reading stories with OCs, so I wouldn't do that to you, in turn. It's not that I have anything against them in the long run, I just find them to be annoying. But! Now I'm rambling. Sorry, you can choose to ignore everything I said because the main point of it was only just: Barbra is not someone necessarily vital.

OH! And for an important note: I did mean catheter, no castrator in the previous chapter. WordWrytha pointed this out to me and I nearly laughed for several minutes straight. What a stupid mistake on my own part. Please, ignore my stupidity. I'd tell you that I was writing in a rush, but that doesn't excuse such an unfortunate mistake. As WordWrytha pointed out, castration would put poor 2D in a very bad situation.

Thanks to everyone that review in the previous chapter. I am so overwhelmed with the responses. Thank you: Le Candeh, Va Vonne, Lively McBrighten, MCLanna, AkinaTakesora, ShetanBandit, Wordwrytha, HikaxKaoxLovies, and XxproperxsadxladyxsilentxX.


Chapter Seven:
Best Mates

Tiny and Billy-Boy were seated at the pub booth, heads tilted in the same direction, contemplating the round heart shape that was Barbra the waitress' massive arse.

It was Ladies Night at the pub, the boys' most favourite of nights, and they watched Barbra snap up and turn around to face them, her lopsided belly almost dangling out from her too-tight trousers. "You know who would 'ave love this?" Tiny said after a while, still perplexed with the questionable beauty that only shone like a faint ghost behind Barbra's strong wrinkles. She walked behind the crowd of other young women, a mixture of both ugly and attractive, fat and waif-like.

"Who?" grunted Billy-Boy, whose attention had been glued to the chest of another woman, busty and slender at the same time. She sat alone at the bar, fiddling with her brunette hair and every so once in a while taking antsy glances around the room. She may have been alone, but she still looked as if she wouldn't have given Billy or Tiny even the slightest of her spare time.

"Muds." Tiny replied back with a shrug, downing the last of his drink and turned solemnly to his spare. The two men sat alone, their only company found in their liquor glasses. They had dressed in their best to invite any willing female, while in the back of their minds they knew that Murdoc would more than likely not be joining them in the night. In fact, Murdoc had been avoiding the pub as much as possible, drinking to excess in the confines of his own condo. He had told the boys that getting out of the house was utterly impossible; unless he wanted to be caught wheeling the comatose Stu Pot around. But neither Billy nor Tiny had seen Murdoc with the kid since the accident. They heard about the unconscious boy only from stories from Murdoc, who retold stories of him with disgust. That bloody kid sure was putting a damper on their possibilities of getting laid.

So, quite pathetically alone, Tiny and Billy-Boy sat in a slump, their sad little pickle only growing worse. Murdoc, as filthy as he was, had been a God send when it came to birds. Or, at least, he had been compared to Tiny and Billy. In his absence, they admired the memory of him and how he used to nab the best girls from across the room. It was as if he could sense an intoxicated woman from a distance. He could sit and wait for hours, watching her as she downed questionable amounts of liquor and, at times, he'd even order her more glasses secretly. Then, when he was certain her vision was impaired enough, he'd bounce up from the table and slither on over to her instantly. He'd offer her a hand, his coat, and a warm bed to sleep in. It was a consistent feat that always seemed to impressed Billy and and Tiny, as they'd watch him bring her near their table, followed by a lot of two willing friends. Murdoc Niccals, bless him. Still, the both men fucking loathed him then for his unfriendly absence.

"Bloody tossa'," Billy-Boy groaned in response to Tiny, who nodded feverishly in agreement. On cue they downed their drinks, glaring at the lot of attractive men, rubbing their physical advances in their face. Tiny and Billy-Boy, they hated attractive men- hated them with an intense passion. But at that moment, they hated Murdoc Niccals even more.

However, much to their bewilderment, the front door of the pub creaked slightly open and, slipping into the room, they saw his shadow. Hunched, and erie, the mop topped man glanced around the pub before emerging into the space further. "Muds?" choked Tiny, whose drink dribbled down the front of his flustered red face. He titled his head in examination, watching the outline as he stalked through the open space of the dingy little area. His fingers were wrapped around the handles of something with wheels, though there had been a stained white sheet over it, covering whatever it was underneath entirely. In Murdoc's nervous delirium, he shot a wink at a curious-looking woman, sighted his friends, and slunk towards the booth in a hurry.

When he reached the table, he flopped down next to Tiny, said not a word, and ran his filthy hands through his messy black hair. Exhaling, he then pried a piece of forgotten food from the space in his jagged teeth before catching sight of the curious looks on both of his mate's faces. "Wot?"

"Wot d' ya' mean 'wot'?" Tiny grunted, watching Murdoc reach for his glass, though he did not object. "I thought you weren't comin' round 'ere anymore."

"Ah," shrugged Murdoc, redirecting himself instantly. He sucked in and grabbed for Billy's glass, scraping it up from the surface of the table without much effort. "I changed me mind abou' tha'," he gulped, wiping his mouth clean before sliding the empty cup back in Billy's direction.

"Wot do ya' mean you've changed ya' mind about it?" scuffed Tiny again, raising a thick eyebrow.

"I mean," hissed Murdoc, giving Tiny an intense glare that made the man reel back slightly, "I've changed me mind." Then, sniffing, he grossly wiped his runny nose on the sleeve of his outstretched shirt. "Anyway," he added, "I've figure a way out of my, err, predicament." Without saying a word, Murdoc stared only at the front of the bar, his eyes scanning the place continually. He did not further explain himself. Instead, he seemed to be already on the prowl, greedily waiting until he could spot some woman to bother hounding. He ignored the confused looks sent to him by both of his mates, gape-mouthed and wondering. For several silent moments, Tiny and Billy-Boy retracted back questionable glances; back and forth at one another dimly, they considered wether or not to actually ask what, exactly, Murdoc had done to wriggle his way out of his nurse work.

But Billy and Tiny's eyes wandered from Murdoc to the blanketed heap at his right. Spread out over the human-like lump, Murdoc's own dirty bed sheets had cloaked the figure securely. Once again, they exchanged inquisitive glances, shrugging wildly back and forth at one another. Though, it was Billy who garnered enough courage to continue pressing the subject. Chewing on his bottom lip anxiously, he was the first to mutter something at all.

Finally, he asked out loud, "err, Murdoc?"

Murdoc sniffed and casually scratched the side of his sickly green face. He did not break away his gaze from the women at his front; seemingly enough, he appeared to have found his target. "Yeah." he asked blankly, not bothering to even lift his head.

"Err, uhm, wot's tha'?"

"Wot's wot?"

"Tha'." Billy held his fat finger out in front of him as if wielding a weapon. The look on his face marked his scrutiny, though the expression appeared to slightly pain him. With his thick eyebrows crunched downwards, the messy expression on his face made him appear perhaps even more dim-witted than ever. Yet, despite this, Billy's outburst seemed to certainly grab Murdoc's forgotten attention. He narrowed his eyes and followed the direction of Billy's arm. When the bass player's vision found the end of Billy's sausage-like fingers, he found himself staring back at the sheet covered hump at his side.

Murdoc breathed in, looking the thing up and down before contemplating an answer. He considered ignoring the question, but generally found it almost further impossible to do so. Thus, he squared away his shoulders, regaining himself and his flattened composure. Sure, once he'd loaded Stu Pot back up in his wheelchair, draped some sheets over his head, and pushed him in the disguise out the door, he hadn't really thought about what he was planning on doing with the kid afterwards.

For fuck's sake, all he wanted to do was get laid.

Thus, adjusting himself, Murdoc stiffened his posture and glanced over at the sheets, locking his eyes in with it sternly. Of course the unconscious kid would go and do something stupid like give himself away at a time like this. Murdoc Niccals' resentment fired away profoundly. "Oh," he stated, "tha's, uh, tha's..."

But Billy lunged forward, slipping himself out from behind the table diligently. He ignored Murdoc as he trailed on, considering on how to properly end the conversation without much success. The large man crept around the front, his hands reaching out. Though timid at first, once he reached the front of the white lump, he arched forward and lifted the corner of the bed blankets up carefully. "Tha's your solution?" he said timidly. Then his face broke out in a shiny smile that made large dimples appear at the side of his puffy face. Amused, he almost toppled backwards, aching from the laughter that boiled up in his stomach. Tiny watched curiously, noting the red tint that had overtook Murdoc's visage instantly. He cocked his head forward curious as Billy whipped the covers from off of the thing entirely. "Tha's your 'way out of your predicament'?"

With the blankets pulled off of the figure, it was Tiny's turn to bubble with laughter. Beer sputtered out from his lips and splashed about the table top wildly. He slammed his fist down, clamping a hand on the back of Murdoc's shoulders with whole-hearted aggression. Stu Pot, slumped over and only half strapped into his seat, looked as unaware and as unconscious as ever. His thin frame hung loose in the seat and he was wearing a thin gray sweatshirt without a hood or a zipper. The thing was stretched out over his shoulders in an oversized manner and the sleeves dangled over his long limbs. It looked as if he had been dressed in a rush, as well; he wore a pair of plain black pajama pants and a pair of shaggy orange converse that Murdoc had left untied.

Besides being unbearably pale, the right side of Stu's face was red with carpet burn, and his blue hair looked as if it had been styled by a quick run in with the ground. He still bore the scars of the crash night, though several bandages covered up the more visible ones. Even next to Murdoc, who himself looked as if he had dressed in a hurry, Stu looked perhaps more ready for bed, then a night out at a busy pub. "For fuck's sake, Muds!" cried Billy, still howling with laughter. He pinched the boy's chin, lifting his face upwards and examining him in the light. His scrutiny lasted only a few moments, however, before he dropped the boy's face, and stumbled back again giggling.

Tiny dabbed at his eyes, his free hand clutching his side. "Why's he in his pyjamas?" Murdoc mumbled something bitterly under his breath. Truthfully, the gray sweatshirt had been perhaps the most appealing thing Murdoc could find in the wardrobe box Rachel Pot had packed for her son. Other than the uniform-like outfit he'd arrived in, a Superman pyjama shirt, and a striped button-up, Murdoc really didn't have much to choose from. However, rather than speak out in his defense, he only lifted his fingers, snapped them, and mumbled that he badly needed something to drink.

"I'll say!" roared Tiny, taking hold of the handles on Stu Pot's wheelchair. He turned the boy with a riot, positioning him and the chair in a much closer spot near Murdoc. Stu gave a slight groan and his head lolled from one side. "Oh, bloody hell!" coughed Tiny, "'e's a riot!"

"'E is not!" objected Murdoc, "'e's a fucking vegetable." Then, to further expel any of their amusement, he scrunched up his nose and said dismissively, "'e sits there an' rots."

Billy-Boy doubled over, his meaty hands clutching the edge of the table before him. He ignored Murdoc's scowl, well into his chuckling to pay it much attention, anyways. Tears swelled up in his eyes and he tried to catch his havering balance. "Well," he said, shaking, "'e may not be a riot to you, but I find 'im bloody brilliant!"

Murdoc ground his teeth furiously and Billy backtracked to grab a spare seat from one of the scattered tables behind him. Instead of returning to his seat at the cushioned booth next to Tiny, he plopped down on the wooden chair and rearranged himself next to Stu Pot at his right. When he had himself all settled, he took to lifting his hand again, squeezing Stu Pot's face together by his cheeks. The face he gave Stu made him look like an uncomfortable and bruised-looking fish. "Well, look on the bright side, mate," he said, itching to bust over with laughter yet again, "at least 'e's a pretty one, ain't 'e?"

"Yeah, Muds," chimed Billy-Boy, tilting his head to get a better look at the kid. It had been the first time that either of the men had seen Stu since the car accident, though then he had been covered in a pool of his own blood. Perhaps a bit more presentable, Stu Pot did look a whole lot better. "'E's a bit too pretty, don't ya think?" Billy remembered how much he hated attractive men and though, with a second sense of amusement, that Stu Pot deserved to be a vegetable.

"'E's a fucking ponce," Murdoc noted, cocking his chin back at the kid bitterly. All things considered, Stu Pot was quite pretty, a fact that seemed to annoy Murdoc to no end. His shaggy head of blue hair hung low across his tainted face and, when his eyes opened, Murdoc found himself reminded back to every single Brit-pop band in the history of England. He found himself disgusted, with both the boy and the horrible situation, for the millionth time since he'd laid eyes on him.

Billy lifted up Stu Pot's limp arm, examining it closely. He pulled back the long sleeves and checked his scared arms, letting his hands flop back into his lap conclusively. He contained his laughter as he did so, biting his lip while he moved up to the boy's head, pulling out a strand of blue hair and snorting. But Tiny's tilted head jerked back towards Murdoc and he smiled when he asked, "wot's it you do with 'im all day?"

"Wotever that bleedin' list tells me to do with him, you arsehole." Murdoc quipped.

Tiny turned back away, a perplexed look on his sadistic face. He relished in the fact that the boy, perhaps once fairly smooth with talking to women, was now nothing more than a lifeless entity. The more he pondered the circumstances, the louder his voice echoed. In hopes of somehow reaching the boy's consciousness, he asked Murdoc, "'Ow's he go t' the bathroom?"

"Catheter." Murdoc's face fell, feeling more and more in need of a nice cup of brandy. Or a towering glass of rum. Or a Bloody-fucking-Mary. Or the lot.

Tiny's smile broadened a bit more. He held enjoyment in knowing one small humiliating fact about the pathetic little figure. "'Ow's he eat?"

Murdoc's face morphed into a scowl, his eyes narrowing drastically. He stared at Stu Pot, and then back at Tiny. The look of deep misery shone on his face and he looked aggressive as he balled his fingers up into two nice looking fists. "'E's fed."

Billy dove under the seat of Stu Pot's wheelchair, pulling out a single can of baby food, once again unable to contain himself. He slammed the jar on the top of the table, kicking his feet and wiggling around, rather worm-like. "No shit!" he announced, shoving the mushed food in Tiny's direction, thus further allowing Tiny himself to join him in his amusement. Only Murdoc sat fuming, though he had given up on attempting to quiet his mates. Who'd he been kidding? It was Stu Pot he was mad at in the first place. The wanker had been making things difficult for him since day one.

"Fuckin' hell," Murdoc breathed, "you should see him try to down just two bites of tha' shite. Dribbles down his face like a fucking lunatic! Most of the time 'e just sits there until someone massages it down his fucking throat." This sent a chorus of laughter around the table from all but Murdoc, whose grip loosed from his tightly wound fists. In his seat he seethed, staring away from Stu Pot, who sat helpless as Billy-Boy plucked carelessly at his limbs.

In his ear, Tiny's booming laughter thundered off at him. But Murdoc's patience was running thin and, as the chucking picked up in his ear, the small amount of it he had left instantly ran out. Without warning, he lunged forward, arching his torso with full intensity as he swooped unexpectedly forwards. Surging forward, he grabbed the neck of the nearest friend he could find and his fingers snapped around Tiny's large throat like a snake, watching as his eyes bubbled out widely.

Billy froze, dropping Stu Pot's face while loosing any trace of colour in his own. Tiny's throat emitted a meek yelp, and his large hands worked their was up to his neck in a sad attempt to pry away Murdoc's vengeful hand. The bassist showed Tiny his teeth. His eyes glistened with resentment and he hissed, "wot's so funny?"

With Murdoc's fingers wrapped around his throat, Tiny made a slight attempt to speak up, though failed within the instant. His face blued over the passing moments, and Murdoc made no attempt to let his grip slacken. "N-N-Nothing, Muds," squealed Billy from across the table, who spoke for Tiny instead. "W-W-We wos j-jus' kidding!"

"Tha' true?" slithered Murdoc, whose tongue slipped from his mouth. He looked as if he were ready to devour Tiny at any given moment, though the people of the pub seemed far too intoxicated to notice. "Hm, Tiny, mate?" Lifelessly, as if he were only just about to pass out, Tiny's fat face gave a quick bob up and down. His eyes became unfocused and, just before he was certain to loose consciousness, Murdoc released his grip and flopped back down hastily into his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest and ignored Tiny's raspy breaths as he tried to catch some air. However, over his foolish mate's pathetic inhales, Murdoc growled, "I need a drink." With that, he lifted his fingers and snapped them in the air readily. "Oi!"

Barbra's flabby figure turned around slightly, joyful at having noticed Murdoc in the corner. Her smile doubled on her overly made up face and she locked eyes with him intently, showing him her white teeth. Her flashy green eyes noticed Billy, who was up and chuckling, though his massive body blocked the view of something shadowed. Then she found Tiny, too, his face red with hysterics; all the while, Murdoc's posture remained blatantly slumped. The unamused expression he wore on his tired face lit her up and, curious, she approached the table with a sway of her hips.

She popped her gum. "What's gotten into you, Muds?" she moaned, looking sad as she put on a pouty face, "'aven't seen yah round 'ere in ages and now ya' show up lookin' bloody awful."

"Yeah, well," came Murdoc's only reply. "Just bring me something expensive." He cocked a thumb towards the still wheezing Tiny, "'e's buyin'."

Just as the permed blonde readied herself to spin around, she noticed a certain blue haired shadow at Murdoc's side. She paused, considering him for a moment, before turning back around to face the three men. "Got a new friend, Muds?" she asked, a girlish giggle to her otherwise flat sounding tone. Tiny writhed in his seat, a hot flush running through his face. He resisted excusing himself from the table and dragging the comatose kid by the hair along with him. However, instead of action upon impulse, he remained put, fearful that Murdoc might still knock his precious lights out.

"Hardly," Murdoc frowned, glancing back at Barbra with a sour expression.

"'E looks like he's 'ad a bit too much to drink for the night," she smiled, serious despite her tickled grin. She was not facing Murdoc or either of the men. Instead, she seemed to enjoy staring back at Stu, despite his closed eyes and parted mouth.

Billy-Boy shook his head, ready to smash any possible hope that Barbra had in perhaps taking Stu Pot home with her. "'E's hasn't drank a single thing tonight, Barb, and 'e's not drunk. 'E's a vegetable."

Barbra's shoulders slackened. Her haze dropped and she shifted her eyes back over to Murdoc, gaping. "So this is the 'nanny' thing, huh? Your new occupation?" she asked, enlightened. However, she did not remain looking at Murdoc for long. Instead, she strode away from the front of the table and passed Billy-Boy with soft apprehension. Then she stood in front of Stuart, analyzing him with a delicate and caring expression. She no longer looked like an old pub waitress. She looked almost young, as if her youthful good-looks had finally made a first appearance. She squatted down, tilting her head at Stu Pot and placing a hand on his own clammy one. "You're taking care of a comatose boy?"

Murdoc's eyebrow rose in confusion. Both Billy and Tiny looked down at Barbra, horrified. "That's, uh... that's what the court ordered," Murdoc stumbled, still unsure as to what Barbra was getting at. However, her polished fingernails brushed aside the blue hair from Stu Pots face and, daintily, she bent low enough to tie up Stu's unlaced converse. "Barb?"

The moment she touched his chilly face, he gave a sad little moan and his eyes slowly fluttered open. Barbra looked taken aback. "Oh," she gasped, taking one look at his black eye and letting her heart sink. She trailed her fingers up to it, gently touching the space around it as if trying to heal it. "You poor thing," she sighed, watching Stu Pot, whose eyes remained unfocused and glossy.

Watching, Murdoc raised his voice slightly. Stu Pot's eye opening was something that had been occurring far more often than usual. A sight that had once given Murdoc hope, only now took to annoying him. Yet the waitress' fascination sent a jealous chill run up his spine. He coughed, "Barb."

"Yeah..."

Murdoc's eyes twitched. He'd fucked Barbra twice and not once had she ever looked at him like that. And it wasn't that he was offended, because he was definitely not in love with Barbra the pub waitress, but it was just the bloody principle! For fuck's sake- Stu Pot was a useless fucking vegetable. Still, Murdoc flickered back and forth between feeling utterly and completely resentful, and furthermore righteously confused. He watched her admire Stu Pot, ignoring the scars on his face, the big gray sweatshirt, and the mashed food cans at his feet. She didn't even seem slightly bothered by the black pupil and the dent at the side of the boy's skull.

Murdoc recrossed his arms, analyzing her furiously. "Can I get something to fucking drink this century?"

"Oh," Barbra blinked, bringing her hand away. She glanced back up at the three men, her eyes spilling over slightly. But there was a youthful smile on her face that made the men curious and envious at the same time. All she said was, "yeah," and with that, she left in a daze, leaving the men to their broken senses.

They cocked their heads towards the figure and sat in silence. Stu Pot's hazy eyes stared off in the distance, wet and unfocused. His slender chest rose and fell with slight breath, and his blue hair hung across his face lifelessly. He looked forlorn and forgotten, a sheepish kid of nineteen, who shouldn't have even been allowed in the pub in the first place. He looked a mess, mentally challenged even, and yet the vivacious woman couldn't keep her hands off of him. In fact, after a quick glance around the room, the three men noticed that Barbra had grouped together a cluster of four other females. Their eyes locked directly with the sunken Stu Pot, they wore a set of matching smile across their young faces. After a while, Billy-Boy choked out, "wot the in the hell."

Tiny's equally fat face crumpled distinctively. He glanced away from Stuart Pot, a curious look on his face. "Wot are they looking at?" he asked, terrified. Self-conscious, he smelt his underarm pits and scanned the front of his shirt to see if he had spilled anything on it.

Murdoc didn't answer him. Instead, he focused his eyes on Stu Pot, clad in his foolish sweatshirt and newly tied converse shoes. Then he glanced up at the group of women. Other than Barbra, the lot of them were young, attractive, and giggling; a sight Murdoc very often loved to see. They dressed slutty, looked slutty, and acted slutty. All at once, Murdoc's confused atmosphere cleared up; the fog that had clouded his hindsight vastly parted. Perhaps bringing Stu Pot around wasn't exactly the worst idea he had come up with.

Thus, he straightened up his shirt and fixed his sloppy posture, leaning forward and grabbing Stu Pot's limb wrist. He lifted it in the air and waved for the comatose boy, signaling to the girls a friednly hello. Their smiles broadened and, drinks in hand, they exchanged giddy glances before waltzing over towards the men feverishly. "Wot'd I tell you, boys?" Murdoc said out from the side of his mouth, an ambitious smile spreading across his own green face, "Murdoc Niccals is a bloody genius."


"And so, yeah," Murdoc Niccals drawled, drunken in his step with his free arm around the waist of a hiccuping redhead, "Stuart here was covered in blood. Masses of it, eh. Picking him up and carrying him that five miles to the hospital was... well, it was the least I could do."

In the dim street lights of the sleepy little town, Murdoc, Tiny, Billy-Boy, and three other women stood at the front doorstep of Murdoc's dingy little condo. They paid no attention to the wrecked state it was in. Only, their focus seemed to flick back and forth between Murdoc and Stu Pot, who had remained almost completely silent the entire night, other than the sad moans he would unknowingly emit aloud. Still, Murdoc's previous aggression with the kid had flopped. While before he found himself rather annoyed with Stu's presence, at that moment, he couldn't have been more proud. Proudly, he pushed along Stu's wheelchair with a cocky smile and a pompous sway. Certainly the girls had drank themselves silly, but Stu Pot's presence had certainly helped matters.

The redheaded girl pulled on her barely-there sequenced tank top. Her blue eyes locked into Murdoc's mismatched ones and, pulling her hair out of her face she said girlishly, "what would he have done with out you?"

Murdoc shrugged, so casual in his conversation. He didn't even have to try to coax her in. She believed every word of it. "He would have died, probably," he suggested, and the girl dropped her hands down to Stu's blue head, murmuring about how lucky he was that Murdoc Niccals was around to save his life. As she changed her focus, Murdoc glanced behind his shoulder, winking at Tiny and Billy-Boy, who had followed him home, their own gawking birds looped around at their sides. He laughed at their bewilderment, red in the face with joy as the intoxicated women tickled under their flabby chins and cuddled their protruding bellies. Never before had getting the two a date been so easy.

Still, the bassist considered the redhead. Her name was Cherry and Murdoc had even managed not to laugh when she'd told him so. Instead, he put on a gentlemen's smile, refraining from further inquiring if the carpet truly did match the name. In fact, he was far too impressed with himself to try and mess the situation up, anyways. Furthermore, he basked in his glory of accomplishment. Bringing the vegetable along had been a great idea- no, a brilliant one. For his effort and success, he promised himself that he would be significantly rewarded.

Blissful, he pulled open the door of his condo and gestured the women in, even taking the responsibility to wheel Stu in after them. He watched the group flop down on the couch and he positioned Stu, glassy eyed, in the middle of the room. His grimy hands ran through the boy's head of clean hair. "You know, kid's these days," he drawled on, much to the excitement of the three girls, cross-legged and anxious on the cushions of his living room couch, "always putting their faces in the way of things that they shouldn't be."

Cherry hadn't left Stu Pot's side. Her hand clung around Mudoc, though her eyes watched Stu closely. "How long's he been out for?" chimed her friend at the couch. She was blonde, and far too pretty to be interested in Tiny. Still, her cotton-candy head leaned up against his beefy shoulder and she had already undid the back strap of her lacy black bra. Her name was Tara, and Murdoc was certain she'd endure one night with Tiny, just to wake up to Stu Pot in the morning.

"Two and a half months," Murdoc replied, sending a set of high-pitched gasps around the room. Tiny clung on to Tara, a toothy smile spread across his ugly face. "But I have such strong hope that he'll pull through, ladies," Murdoc added. "I'd be a damn liar if I told ya I didn't coax 'im through 'is ordeal day by day."

"You're a wonderful man, Mudsy," Cherry proclaimed, finally forcing herself to turn away from Stuart. She wrapped her hands around Murdoc's black shirted chest and found a way underneath it. "Stu is lucky to have you."

"Yeah, yeah," Murdoc swayed, stepping away from the wheelchair and allowing himself to be pushed against the wall. "We're the best of chums."

Cherry, Tara, and the other girl (whose name escaped Murdoc's gleeful mind), all started off to work. They managed to waste no further time with it, either. At the bang of Murdoc's back being pinned against the wall, they sprung into action, taking their cue vicariously. In their aggression, they even managed to pin both Tiny and Billy-Boy, as thick as they were, to the two separate couches. Cherry's voice came out towards his ears from between the sloppy kisses she smacked on his face. "Where," she breathed, slipping her hands up through Murdoc's black hair, "should... we put... Stuart?"

Her eyes slipped away from Murdoc's momentarily and she stared back at the kid, who hadn't moved a muscle since entering the condo. His knees locked together in a crooked sort of way, Stu Pot's blank expression made him look both oddly innocent and curiously perverted. "'E'll... be... fine... where 'e's at."

Blinking, Cherry dropped her arms. She looked still fairly intoxicated, but for the moment, she appeared to have snapped out of her delirium. "We can't just leave him here," she stated, looking lost. The previous infatuation for Murdoc had temporarily escaped her and she searched his face for some sort of connection. "Not with the others in the room." Her face morphed into a pout and, standing before him in her bra, Murdoc felt helpless.

The Satanist's eyes snapped open, scanning the room for a quick escape. Yet, anxious and in a swift hurry, he broke away from Cherry's grip and strode towards the unconscious kid. In his own drunken swag, he took hold of the wheelchair handles and ignored the grunts coming from Billy and Tiny's opposite directions. The other girls glanced up, sorry to see Stu go, but continued in their work as Murdoc directed him away. He made swiftly through the kitchen and, with a hurried hand, whipped open the broom closet. Then he wheeled Stu into the thing, shutting it abruptly before scrambling back towards Cherry, who looked slightly uneasy. "He's tucked away safe?"

"Snug as a bug, love," Murdoc replied, waving her away and flicking the kitchen lights off with a snap of his finger. Cherry's eyes softened, her smile returning. When she extended out her arms, she had latched herself to Murdoc in a second, carrying on where she'd left off. Any worry she had previously had about Stu had vanished and her sole focus had been returned to its rightful place. Thus, brimming with accomplishment, Murdoc allowed himself to be dragged by the waist of his pants into the depths of his open bedroom.


Psychic City: I'm glad that this turned out to be a longer chapter. I hope that the next chapter can be just as long, as well. Let me know what you think, definitely! I'd love to hear all your feedback. The good, the bad, and the ugly is always appreciated!