2D could hear her.
He could feel the clang of her five-inch strippertastic heels connect with the floor.
He could smell her putrid perfume.
He could picture her attractive face.
"She's a fockin Jezzabelle!" 2D shouted, feeling a moment of spite come over him. He formed a fist, striking tin wall, before resuming his lying position. He reached for his bottle of four roses, but to his misfortune, his fingers bumped the bottle, and the amber liquid was sent cascading along the steel floor. He sighed, and turned over, the burgundy sheet intertwining with his nude lanky figure. His hangover kept him in bed, as did his lethargy. But all of that would be welcomed if he could just get Murdoc out of his head.
(click, click)
That woman's atrocious heeled shoes, with that awful receptive echoing click, was gonna drive him up the fucking wall.
He sighs.
"I gess I'll go an' greet da broad." he spoke, getting up, the sheet falling to the floor. He rummaged throughout his drawers, settling on a red shirt with site sleeves, that had a illustration of a open gash, and a heart being pulled out by a stitched up multicolor hand, and a pair of faded navy skinnies, and some black socks.
What?
Shoes suck.
Shit.
Clothes suck.
He gathered his medication, taking the little blue,white and orange pills altogether, then draining it with a bottle of old water. The halls were desolate and bare, with the exception of the sound of that woman's heeled shoes, and their repeated meetings with the floor. How Murdoc stood her, he would never know. He knew for infect that Noodle-bot hated her to pieces, which her human counterpart and Russell were indifferent to her existence. He just wanted her to leave, Noodle-bot had darker plans for the wench.
He turned the corner, only to be met with the back of the woman. Well, he doubted she was even human anymore, with all of the plastic surgery, silicon implants,(this tits aren't real) and collagen lip plumps he paid for. She was faker than a barbie doll, not to mention the fact that she dressed like street pussy. But he would look past all of that, have complete disregard for every, implant, and four thousand dollar credit card bill, if she wasn't just using him. She played him like a fiddle, depending on him for everything. She was a two faced broad. Nothing but a disgusting makeup caked-two timing leech-like fishdog. That needed to be put down.
But nevertheless, he acted friendly toward her.
"Oh, 'Ello Daysi, yu lookin fer Mudzy?" he called, watching the woman's mane of bleach-blond locks terrorize the air, as she turned her head rather quickly.
She turned from one of the framed posters she'd been gazing at. "Hi 2D, yes I'm looking for him."
"I dink he's up on da terrace" he responded. She strafed past him and gave him a cold grin that metaphorically said; You touch him, and I'll cut off your balls and feed them to you.
He retorted with a toothy smile that read along the lines of; go shove a rabid badger up your pussy, bitch.
She scampered off in the direction of the elevator, and 2D sighed and ran his long fingers through his cerulean hair, something that had become a habit over the years. It helped him deal with all his Murdoc stress over the years.
Anyhow, he reached the living room shortly after, Noodle, and her android counterpart huddled together on the couch, watching a bootleg version of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows pt. 2. Noodle wearing a oversized wife-beater, and the stocking from when she'd gone missing, and Noodle-Bot robed in her stylo attire, minus the hat. The scene ended and it cut to the credits, and the two hopped up.
"2D San, would you like to go shoot zombies with us?" The Asian girl inquired, adjusting her stockings. She grabbed Murdoc's shotgun, which was more hers than his.
He replied with a nod, then scanned the premises for a firearm, managing to scavenge two Glocks, a box of Magnum shells, and a grenade.
They have a lot of weaponry laying around the house.
This is Kongz were talking about.
He joined the two, and accompanied them outside.
Murdoc grimaced as she walked through the door of the terrace. He knew what she desired, and he knew from experemce, and past quarrels, that she was only going to get the hell out of his face after he gave her some money.
"Ello Darlin'." he lisped with an empty smile, removing his wallet.
He could see dollar signs in the bitches eyes.
She began to ramble about some pointless shit she wanted to buy, something along the lines of a new Chanel fragrance that wasn't due out until 2014. And that she wanted to 1up her Cindy Lauper look-alike-of-a-sister. He rolled his multicolor eyes and tossed her his credit card. She made a giddy squealing noise, similar to nails on a chalkboard. She have him a kiss, and sashayed from the terrace, shaking her ass-implants in the process.
He sighed.
The only reason he kept her silicon ass around was for the cameras. He didn't love her, hell he didn't give two shits about her. But if he didn't have some plastic bitch with him in public, the paparazzi would be in his hair, then the tabloids, and Thar shit is something that makes you want to just go on a rage filled rampage.
He turned back to his elegant view of the forest, witnessing 2D and the two noodles, cautiously make their way into the zombie infested forest.
2D lay on his bed, silent tears cascading down his cheekbones. Silently resisting the urge to tap at the purplish bruises that Murdoc had earlier bestowed him.
He recalled the memory.
~flashback~
"You fockin twit, wot da hell did I tell you bout using my glock?" he blared in the cerulean haired boys ear. He flicked him on the forehead in a almost robotic manner, for he had done it many times before.
"Well you shu'int leave ya shit erey were, coz if you do, people are sure to touch it!" he retorted, giving him the finger, and really not meaning it. He furrowed his brow, as the older swiped the firearm from his grasp.
"Wot I wanna know is, why cant you just let others use ya stuff, and you nawt bitch a fockin fit about it?"
"It's my stuff, I've gawt evey rite to complain bout' people tocuchin my stuff!" "Fockin dullard!" he kicked 2D in the shin , and and the upper thigh.
"Fock you!" he yelled as the bassist walked away ?
His efforts to not toy with his bruises were futile, he pushed and poked them, pretending they were love bites.
He laughed, tears springing forth, and he reached for the razor blade that lay on his nightstand.
?
okay, This parts done.
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