The Last Supper
Chapter One: The One with the Reunion
The elevator doors slid shut in front of Chandler as he held his finger suspended on one of the buttons. He grimaced as the familiar sound of grating metal reverberated in his ears. Flecks of grey hair twitched as his ears danced in agony. He wore blue checkered pants and a Rock Cafe t-shirt. Appropriate summer wear but a tad unbecoming of Chandler's age. He subconsciously donned such garb in the vain effort of recuperating his youthful energy. Alas, such efforts were in vain; his last remaining sola lay in snorting lines of cocaine.
Meanwhile, in Joey's flat...
Joey shuffled uncomfortably on a bar stool, his fat ass shifting constantly over the sides of the cheap plastic furniture that adorned his abode. Pizza stained the walls, the floor, the soul of the room. Monica let out a loud, audible sigh as she once again had to peel her expensive plush shoes from the insatiable floor. Joey grinned out of sympathetic misery, the entire time reflecting in his tiny brain the dismal life he led and how his so-called friends would think of him now. Monica stamped her foot down loudly and slammed a knife down on the now clean kitchen counter. It had taken her two minutes to clean it once she had gotten her portable Filipina chacha in. Not that she would leave the cooking to the help, of course. She could not let that bitch Rachel think her cooking had become inadequate, hence getting someone else to do it for you. Monica rubbed her nose and shouted loudly for her brother.
"Bring me the goddamn water, Ross!" she spat, eyeing her surroundings with disgust. She had moved onto better things than this. This filth just disgusted her, Joey disgusted her, everything disgusted her. She grimaced in horror upon turning to glance at her company, and realised how blindly she had wasted her youth laughing away like a dirty peasant. Old age had laid its hand upon her throat and refused to let go, nary a laugh could escape.
Ross got up off the sofa in a huff. For him the room was spinning. His LSD hit had not been a big one, but enough to mellow him out. For a while now he had become accustomed to hearing his sister's demeaning demands. His life had hit a rough patch recently, thus it was that he moved into live with her.
At every step Monica did everything to demean him and dehumanize him. Like a dog. Orders here, clean up there, look after my goddamn kid too. Ross sometimes wished he could just grab her throat and shut her up, but then again she was helping him and... he took it.
Rachel sat waiting in the taxi outside the apartment. She eyed the street, lest anyone recognise her. She had come a long way since this shithole and had never looked back since. She still wondered why she had accepted the invitation to come, but then again it was an opportunity to show off how fabulous her life had become. She snappily opened a gold hand mirror and glanced at her wrinkles. That antiaging treatment that bitch nurse recommended had turned out to be complete bollocks, so some Mexican bitch nurse was SO going to lose her job!
"You!" Rachel spat, her pearly white teeth gnashing as she barked. They sparkled like the enamel on a used toilet. "Go round the block again, and don't try to Jew me with that meter!" she continued, waving a tissue at her limousine driver. He nodded quietly and obeyed, it would be easier than shooting her. Rachel did not want to be the first one there.
Phoebe sat in her beaten-up Ford Ka. Its pink exterior would have cried upon learning of its pathetic existence. Her car was not long for this world. It wilted in the sun. Paint peeled off here and there, and the driver's door was weakening, falling...
Phoebe knocked back another vodka shot from her bottle. She had tried with various other spirits and hazardous chemicals, but vodka suited her passive aggressiveness best. She stubbed her cigarette out on the dashboard with a wave of her hand then proceeded to exit the car slowly. She was still a bit high from the dope she had been smoking earlier, so took her time getting into the apartment to allow her eyes time to go less red. She was not looking forward to seeing any of her morose friends again. She had only come as the invitation was one she could not possibly refuse. In it held a threat. It was from Rachel; Rachel was the only person with whom she had maintained contact, and occasionally supplied her with marijuana. The threat demanded Phoebe's presence lest a dirty video should get out of Phoebe doing it doggy style with Joey from Days of our Lives. She wouldn't have minded so much had she been caught defecating in Chandler's mouth, but Joey was a has been celebrity, and her riding him would spread on YouTube like herpes on Rachel's vagina Phoebe used to assuage with live yoghurt and goat's cheese.
It would be a shitty night.