Don't Speak ill Of the Dead.
Murdoc is quietly relaxing on one of the balcony deck chairs, smoking a cigarette, and occasionally passing a glance over the landfill site. It's been a rather long and tedious day, and the bassist has barely moved. Aside from dragging himself from the Winnie, to the kitchen balcony, and maybe, occasionally, the back end. The inactivity has affected all of the band members to some degree, and Murdoc seems to of developed a rather obvious tic in his left eye. Possibly put there by a very bored 2D, who seems to insist on continuing to explain the complexities of this crack he's been watching, creeping across the ceiling in his bedroom. Murdoc had decided to escape him, by going for a drive at one point. But once he'd got ready and had sat in the drivers seat, he'd changed his mind and decided to solve the problem instead, by going into 2D's room, and punching him in the back of the head. That did actually solve the problem for a while, and Murdoc's facial tic had begun to calm down again. But nothing ever seems to last in Kong, and the mood had slowly drifted back down to a flat-line, meaning that 2D was bound to seek the bassist out again. Murdoc could almost feel it, like a cold clammy hand on the back of his neck. He shudders a little and sighs.
"Humpf! I'm bored. That must mean Faceache is close." he snorts gruffly at the burning end of his cigarette, almost as if expecting a response from it. He watches the smoke trailing up from the end, and takes a long drag, blowing a couple of smoke rings and sighing heavily. He inspects the burning end of the cigarette again and slumps defeated in the chair. "Well, I guess I should occupy myself till then. Hmmm? I wonder how many dead shopping trolleys there are?" he mumbles, scratching at the stubble on his chin.
He swings his legs round, and stamps his heavily booted feet beside the deckchair with a resounding thump, pulling himself up to a standing position. Stretching his back and cracking his spine, he walks to the railing and leans against it, putting all his weight on one hip, and crossing his ankles. Taking a deep drag from the cigarette, he tilts his head back and cracks his neck, blowing the smoke out while trying to relax. He begins to feel a warm sense of calm gently wash over him, and smiles, flicking the fag end over the railing. The old man looks blankly ahead, clearing his mind and calming his thoughts. Blinking hard for a moment to clear his vision, Murdoc quietly starts the mental count.
A few moments later 2D walks into the kitchen, and carefully looks out the window. Seeing Muds, he unconsciously reaches up to rub the back of his head, where Murdoc had punched him, and wonders if maybe it would be better to go back to napping in the cupboard. Just then Noodle walks in, and smiles at the young man.
"Oh. Hello 2D!" she says brightly, walking past him to the sink for a glass of water. 2D looks first at Noodle, giving her a bright smile, then turns once again to look at the bassist outside. On hearing the young man's name, Murdoc is now slowly turning his head round on his shoulders, to face the young man inside. 2D watches him, slowly tipping his head to his shoulder at the steady movement of the old man's head. It begins to look like the bassist has developed the ability, to turn it a full 360 degrees, and 2D instantly envisions the scene from "The Exorcist." He grimaces at the sight, pressing his knuckles to his mouth, and wonders if perhaps he should go get a bucket, before the dreaded green pea soup scene in re-enacted. Right out there on Kong's balcony. The evil grin spreading slowly across the old man's face, as 2D comes into view, isn't helping the young man either. He shudders as a cold chill races up his spine, and causes a small moment of panic, to settle itself in his small intestine. The young man swallows hard and makes his way out onto the balcony, to stand beside the old, quite probably possessed man.
"Mornin' Muds." 2D announces as brightly as he dares, trying to lift the dark heavy mood, that has now surrounded him like an evil fog. The bassist has stopped looking at him now, and instead seems determined to stare blankly ahead.
"Eh!" he grunts with a shrug, and goes back to counting. 2D stares momentarily at the side of the old man's face, then out at the landfill and back again, as he tries to work out what Murdoc is looking at. Not able to figure it out, he scratches nervously at his side and decides to ask.
"Whacha doin' Muds?" continuing to look out and over the horizon. He believes it must be interesting, as he's been standing here a full ten minutes at least, and besides making him nervous, Murdoc hasn't actually done anything of significance to him, yet.
"Ahhh? Plottin' yer, ehh, murder actually. If you must know." retorts the old man bluntly, and in such a deliberate 'matter-of-a-fact' tone, that it makes 2D's stomach tighten sharply for a moment. The young man looks nervously from his feet, to the side of Muds face, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. Murdoc senses the change in mood and smiles secretly, letting out a long sigh, before turning his body to face the young man. "Countin' the dead. Pfft! Can't yooou take a joke. Bah!" he waves the young man off and turns back to the landfill, deciding to just carry on with the task and ignore the keyboardist. 2D looks quickly at the site, and quietly relieved that the bassist wasn't really going to have him killed, realizes what Murdoc meant by 'counting the dead' and smiles.
"Ohhhh, the trolleys ya mean? I've done that. There's fifty two.... If ya don't count the ones that move." he announces to the old man brightly, finishing with a beaming smile. He holds on to the railing tightly and leans his weight back on his heels for a moment. The bassist instantly stops counting, as 2D's last remark causes the old man's mind to grow steadily blank. His eyes grow wide with a visual 'Huh?' and he sharply turns to face the keyboardist, trying to work out exactly, 'What the Hell, that was suppose to mean?' Quickly looking the young man up and down incredulously, which in turn causes 2D's confidence level to drop rapidly again, he watches him squirm for a moment and smacks his lips.
"What drugs are you on? Dead shopping trolleys, don't move! For one, they're dead! And secondly, now pay attention to this, it's really important. Eh, they're shopping trolleys you Dolt!!" he screeches into the young man's face. 2D pulls his arms up over his head, cowering under them to protect himself, as Muds pulls his fist back as if about to punch him. Lucky for the keyboardist, Murdoc is feeling far too bored and lazy, to even muster the strength to do this, and instead returns his hand to the railing. 2D peeks out from between his arms and sees the bassist has returned to the count, so he lowers his hands and looks hard at the old man. Pulling himself up to full height, and full of determination to be heard, he points out at the landfill.
"But they do!" he protests, too dimwitted to realize what a lucky escape he's already had. "They must do? Coz one day they're there, then the next day, they've gone." he continues, trying to make the old man believe him. Murdoc turns to face the young man again, lowering his shoulders and jutting out his chin, as his rage and level of annoyance slowly begins to build. Staring hard at the younger man, with his glimmering eyes only just visible from under his fringe, he watches as 2D continues to jab furiously out over the railing towards the land fill.
"Why are you trying to mess with my brain?" he hisses, the frustration in his voice bubbling like a volcano about to erupt. "Why? Ack! Pfft! Ahh fergit it. No sense even trying to beat this dead monkey." he adds even more frustrated than before. Waving the young man off and returning to leaning on the railing, he tries once again to ignore the keyboardist, determined not to let him get under his skin. But 2D is still prickling with determination, and sucks up as much courage as he can. Once again jabbing his finger at the landfill, he turns to the old man.
"But they dooooo! They disappear!" he cries excitedly, bouncing almost like an excited child, who has just seen their first elephant. "I wonder why they do that?" he suddenly adds, as his mind comes to the sudden conclusion that it is an odd thing for them to do. He mumbles to himself as he tries to work it out, pointing at the landfill and scratching his head, completely forgetting that he'd just been standing there, winding up a very angry, possibly possessed, bassist. Murdoc's body shakes with fury, and he turns on the young man, his left eye once again twitching furiously.
"COZ THEY'RE HAUNTED!!!!" he bellows like an enraged, rabid bull. 2D leaps away in shock, dropping like a stone to the balcony floor, and clinging desperately to the railing, as if he feared falling any further. "And now ehhh, that I've told you their dirty little secret. Heh, heh. They're going to come after you. I, I eh, I know about these things." the old man continues, almost at a whisper, and in such a calm tone of voice, that it raises the hair on the back of 2D's neck. The bassist folds his arms confidently, and sneers down at the cowering keyboardist. Watching as the shivering young man slowly turns and peers out at the landfill, from behind the railing.
"They are?" he squeaks, too scared to move for a moment, he freezes like a statue in the hope they won't see him. But suddenly overcome with fear that the old man is right, he scrambles to his feet and races from the balcony, searching for a place to hide. Murdoc follows the young man's exit with his eyes, till he disappears through the kitchen into the corridor. Shaking his head and crinkling his nose with disgust at the young man, he unfolds his arms and searches his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. Repositioning himself on the railing again, he lights his cigarette and blows out the smoke with a deep sigh, staring quietly at the burning end, and hoping that will be the last he sees of 2D for a while. He chuckles to himself, at the image of 2D's face, when he told him the trolleys were haunted, shaking his head. Then looking back up at the land fill, he starts slowly counting again, pointing each cart out with the cigarette resting between his yellow stained fingers.
"I swear he's gettin' dumber and dumber?" the old man mutters to himself with a smile.