All You Ever Wanted

 

5

 

 

 

“What is all this, Chris Martin?” Retaw asked as he walked into the living room one morning. Chris was sitting in the middle of the room, completely surrounded by boxes.

 

“Clothes,” Chris replied. “You need them.”

 

Retaw looked down. He'd been wearing Jonny's old clothes for the past few weeks, and they didn't fit him nearly as well as they should have. The dirty sleeves of the shirts slid past the tips of his fingers, even though they were slightly bunched at the elbow, and the worn and faded denim jeans were actually too short for his abnormally long legs.

 

“I suppose I do,” he said, trying to make his way over to Chris. “These will fit me properly?”

 

“They better,” Chris answered, tearing one of the boxes open, nearly ripping the side of it off. “I spent all morning bringing these boxes inside. Had them shipped from, well...my brother.” He looked up at Retaw, who was still gazing in amazement at the amount of boxes. “They're still old clothes, but you're built just like him, so they shouldn't be a problem.”

 

“How many clothes does your brother own?” Retaw asked.

 

“Too many,” Chris chuckled. “The guy's a clothes fiend. I think he buys a new outfit every day.”

 

“That is a lot of outfits,” Retaw mumbled, squatting down beside Chris and helping him open the boxes.

 

“It is, but it's good for us. Half of these don't even look like they've been worn,” Chris mused as he searched through the nearest open box. It was filled with flannel shirts and dark jeans. He grabbed the first outfit he could find and tossed it to Retaw. “Here, try these on.”

 

Retaw caught the articles of clothing with little grace, but as soon as he had a firm hold on them he stood up and left for the bathroom. When he came back, he strutted into the room, which made Chris laugh a little.

 

“How do I look?” Retaw asked, stopping in front of Chris and spinning like a model.

 

“Fabulous,” Chris answered in a laugh. Retaw held out his arms and observed them both, making sure that the sleeves were just the right length. After they received his seal of approval, he moved on to admire his legs. Overall, he was very pleased with his new outfit. He looked back at Chris and smiled widely.

 

“Fabulous,” he repeated. Chris laughed again and shook his head.

 

“I guess you're a hick now,” he said. Retaw tilted his head to the side and squished his eyebrows together.

 

“What's a hick?” he plainly asked.

 

“Oh. Well, like...a redneck, or...” Chris noticed that his answer seemed to have no effect of Retaw, so he gave up. “It doesn't matter. Anyway, you better get over here, 'cause you've got to try on all of these,” he said, gesturing around the box-filled room.

 

“All of these?” Retaw whimpered. There had to have been at least fifteen boxes, and judging by the amount of clothes in the first box, they would surely be at it for hours.

 

“Yeah, well, there are ways I'd much rather spend my day, too, but you're the one who wants to be human!” Chris said, standing up, placing his hand on his hips, and measuring the amount of work they'd have to do.

 

Meanwhile, Jonny was sitting at his desk in the office, reading over some very important e-mails he'd received. He'd already read them a million times, though, and so his progress was slim to none. He just wasn't feeling it today. And it seemed that if he read one part of an e-mail enough times for it to make sense, then the rest of it would become a jumbled mess, so he would have to re-read the whole thing. He just couldn't concentrate.

 

The e-mail he was currently stuck on was one from a paper company somewhere in America. Pennsylvania, actually. Jonny wasn't really sure why he was sent this message, mostly because he couldn't understand what the hell it was saying.

 

He decided to give up on reading, minimizing the window and opening up a game of solitaire. It wasn't unusual for him to do such a thing; most days his productivity amounted to actually finishing one game. And he had done this for years, somehow managing to get enough work done to keep his boss happy and to keep his paycheck coming.

 

Today wasn't one of those days. Not even two cards into the deck, Jonny heard a discreet cough from behind him. He paid it no attention until the cough grew louder, almost to the point of being a shout. He quickly spun around in his chair to find Mr. Champion's evil eyes glaring at him. He didn't say anything, just kept staring at Jonny.

 

“Mr. Champion!” Jonny exclaimed in hope that he wouldn't be reprimanded. “How are you doing on this fine day, sir?”

 

“Jonny, do you have work to do?” Mr. Champion asked in a startlingly calm voice.

 

“Uh, well, I just read over a few e-mails and sent out some replies... just waiting to hear back from them,” Jonny said in what he thought was his most convincing voice. In the two nerve-wracking seconds following, Mr. Champion stared menacingly at Jonny, and Jonny stared back with absolute fear in his eyes.

 

“OK,” Mr. Champion finally said, once again calmly. He stuck around for about three more seconds, and then left without making any noise. Jonny was unsure of how to take this, but he figured that all was good for now, so he foolishly returned to his solitaire game.

 

 

One Day Like This

Chapter 17

Final chapter:)

 

 

A few minutes later they heard the sound of the door knob turning, and turned to see Emily standing in the doorway smiling.

 

"I knew you guys would make up if given the chance."

 

"How did you know-"

 

"Guy, it's pretty obvious. I can feel that the tension between you two has dissipated. Besides, you're both smiling like idiots."

 

"Well, that's because I've got great news! Well, at least it could be great news," he added, frowning. "But I suppose that depends on your feelings."

 

"So what's the news then?"

 

"Well, Will told me that the band discussed it, and that it would be acceptable for you to join us on tour as an assistant, if you'd be so inclined to accept." He looked hopeful at first, but as he thought about it further his face expressed doubt.

 

"Guy, don't make that face. You look so defeated. Of course I accept! I'd love to join you guys! And I'm certainly not going to pass up the opportunity to be with you Guy. And stop looking so surprised too."

 

"Sorry," he laughed nervously, then louder, relief flooding him.

 

"Well, this is great news," chimed in Will. "I do believe this calls for a celebration of sorts. Shall I call up the others Guy?"

 

"Yeah, go ahead. I have something I need to say to them anyways."

 

Twenty minutes later, Chris, Jonny, Will, Phil, Emily, and Guy were all sitting on the large couches in the living room arranged ideally for conversation, laughing and joking and all around enjoying themselves. Suddenly, Guy stood.

 

"Listen everyone. I have something I need to say." His gaze was immediately met by five other pairs of eyes. "I am deeply and sincerely to you guys, for putting you through hell these past couple of days. It wasn't right or fair of me, no matter how much I love Emily."

 

"So you finally realize it? Way to go Guy!" shouted Chris, jumping up and slapping him on the back.

 

"Well, Will helped me figure some things out."

 

"Will, I always knew you were a champion!" exclaimed Chris, turning to face Will with a huge grin.

 

"Chris, Are you going to let the man finish?" Will scolded. Guy threw an appreciate glance at Will. Chris sat back down.

 

"Sorry Will."

 

"Anyways, I just wanted to apologize. I should have been more rational." He turned towards Jonny and looked at him seriously. "And I'm especially sorry about what I did to you Jon. Those things I said were uncalled for and completely out of line. I don't know why I said them. But it doesn't particularly matter why, because no matter the reason, I was wrong. And I hope that you don't hate me for it, but if you do I understand."

 

"Guy, I could never hate you. I understand how hard it must have been for you to come to terms with your emotions. I know you didn't mean those things you said."

 

"Jonny, you are too damn nice, you know that?"

 

They all shared a laugh and the cheerful atmosphere returned to the room.

 

Eventually, everyone drifted off. Phil said he was tired and should go to bed early. Soon after that, Chris also said he was tired and had to get back to his room.

 

"I'll go with you!" Jonny said a bit too loudly, jumping up a bit too quickly. "You can't walk home along in the dark!"

 

"But Phil can walk back alone I suppose" Will whispered to Guy, laughing, as the two quickly made their way out.

 

"I think they're next on the list for a love confession" replied Guy, returning the laugh.

 

"Definitely." He sat in silence for a moment. "I think I'll head out too, I'm sure you want some time with Emily."

 

"Thanks Will."

 

"Sure."

 

The place was finally empty of everyone but Emily and Guy. Guy sighed contentedly.

 

Everything is finally alright.

 

"Em, care to join me on the balcony?" Emily smiled and followed him out. They leaned over the edge, silently taking in the beautiful nighttime views of New York City and enjoying the slight breeze on their faces. After a while, Emily turned to Guy.

 

"About what you said before, when you said that you loved me...well....when I heard that, it was truly the happiest five seconds of my life." Her eyes were as sincere as her voice. "I love you too you know. I always thought I could love you before I ever met you. And now that I've met you, I realize that the man I love isn't just a figment of my imagination with a personality that I'd created in my head. I know now that I don't love an imaginary character. I love you. Guy, you don't know how relieved I am to know that." As she said those things to him, her eyes the brightest of greens, Guy felt his heart might stop.

 

She loves me back. She actually loves me back.

 

He felt the warmth of that realization everywhere. He did the only thing he could think to do in response to such a feeling. He grabbed Emily and kissed her, with all of the passion and love he had kept inside all that time. Their thoughts were harmonious in that moment.

 

Nothing could be better.

 

 

:cheesy:

Strangers on the Street

 

 

 

 

The antique shop was always closed on Sundays. It was the way it had always been, since we first opened it. Nearly all of the shops were closed, actually. There would only ever be one or two very daring entrepreneurs who left their doors open.

 

This particular Sunday was no different. I walked downstairs and over to the door to make sure that the sign was up. It was, but it had fallen slightly from its resting place just in the middle of the glass pane of the door. I fixed it so it was upright and in place, then left for the park. Sundays are lovely for a brisk stroll through town and through the park.

 

As I left the shop, making sure that the door was properly locked, I noticed a man and a small boy walk by. I swiveled to leave, and began to walk when I heard the man speak.

 

“Not now, Christopher, the shops are closed today. It's Sunday, remember?” the man said.

 

Christopher...

 

It was once such a sweet and lovely name. One that had carried with it the most wonderful feeling as it penetrated my eardrums. Over time, the name grew bitter and angry, as did the man who owned it.

 

I turned around to see the backs of the man and child, who were stopped outside of my shop. Every time I heard that name, I had to look. Though it pained me greatly to remember, he had played such a grand roll in my life.

 

The small boy was protesting, yet he knew it was not a battle to be won. The shop was closed and that was that. He protested anyway, as it was in his nature.

 

“Christopher, cease this disobedience this instant or you'll get a taste of-”

 

“No! No, sorry father. I shouldn't have acted in such a manner.”

 

The man nodded approvingly and placed a hand on the small boy's back. The boy was withdrawn into himself now, and he flinched noticeably at his father's touch.

 

I knew the two personalities well. It rather frightened me the similarities I saw between the boy and I. Never the loud one, always shied away in the corner, obedient and conforming until the end, lest he face the consequences of speaking his mind. And the father, well, he was very much the same as my old friend. A booming presence, so filled with energy and so capable of stating his opinion loud enough for the world to hear and even accept. Unfortunately, when the world was not so kind, the man became bitter and angry. His presence never dulled, however, and that was how he gained control over everyone in his life. He had realised that he could use his powers for evil, and so he did.

 

My old friend Christopher and I had known each other since we were young lads. We had lived on the same street, nearly right next to each other, and all throughout our childhood we were ne'er apart. As we grew, we seemed to become more and more isolated from everyone else. We were so wrapped up in each other that we barely knew what was going on in our own families, let alone the rest of the world.

 

One day we met in my back garden. We were teenagers now, around fifteen or so if I remember correctly. Christopher walked over, grinning as he always did. I smiled back and greeted him, but all he did was stop in front of me and continue to smile, almost dreamily.

 

“Jon,” he finally said, “I don't think it would be so odd to say that I am completely infatuated with you.”

 

“What?” was my immediate response. It was a bit of a shriek, I suppose, though I was much less offended than I sounded. I actually rather wanted to make sure that I heard him correctly.

 

“Oh, it's all right if you don't feel the same,” he replied, still beaming. “It's not like I would suggest that we act upon this, anyway. I just thought I would let you know that I have very strong feelings for you.”

 

“Well, thank you for letting me know. Erm... I rather like you, too,” I blushed.

 

“Of course,” he said, taking a step forward, the smile slowly fading and his voice taking on a more seductive tone, “if you wanted to act upon this, I also wouldn't object.” He bit down on his bottom lip and stared deeply in my eyes, and my nervousness began to grow.

 

“Chris, that's... that's certainly a daring proposition you've made,” I stammered. “But, surely we would have to find some privacy.”

 

His eyes softened and his cheeks rose, outlining his lower eyelids as they always did when he smiled. “Follow me,” he said, waving his hand and leading me to some place I wasn't sure of.

 

We stopped in front of an old building that had been buried somewhere in the trees. Christopher told me that it had been abandoned for quite some time. Neither of us were certain what the building had once been used for, though.

 

“I suppose we won't be disturbed here,” Christopher said as he leaned against the side of the building. “I don't think anyone has even come close to this place in years.”

 

“Why didn't you tell me about this place earlier?” I asked, joining him.

 

“I only discovered it yesterday, actually.” He smiled and lightly and affectionately hit my jaw with his hand. “Don't you worry, Jon, I'm not hiding anything from you.” We were both silent for a while after that, then he moved so he was in front of me, nearly inches away. “Do you know what's strange? I've never even kissed a girl before.”

 

“I have,” I replied, holding my clenched fists against the building to control my nervousness. “Once. I was four, though, so I don't suppose that counts.”

 

“Hmm... I would think not.” The next few moments were embarrassingly awkward. We both knew what was coming, yet we both were too afraid to initiate it. Christopher kept his gaze on me, and I was forced by my nervousness to look elsewhere. I tried to gather my courage, but Christopher seemed to have an easier time doing so. Slowly, apprehensively, he leaned closer until his lips were nearly against mine. He stayed there for a few seconds, breathing, “Lord, lead me not into temptation,” and then finally made the connection.

 

I would give almost anything to go back to that moment. It was the happiest I'd ever felt, and I'm certain it was the same for Christopher. It was probably also one of the last times he was happy at all.

 

A few days later, we went back to the abandoned building. Something about Christopher was off; his smile was gone and there was no enthusiasm in his diction. He quietly sat down on the ground, not caring about his clothes being dirtied. He was sitting cross-legged, his hands laying limply in his lap. I sat down beside him and carefully placed my hand on his knee.

 

“Chris, what's the matter?” He looked at my hand, then at me. There was a sadness in his eyes that I'd never seen before. I removed my hand and asked again.

 

“My parents... are sending my brother away,” he hoarsely replied. “Jon, they're sending him away... because...”

 

“Because of what?” I asked. I was deeply concerned by his distressed manner. I cared for him, of course, so it was hard to see him in such a state and to feel quite helpless.

 

“They're sending him away because he told them he is homosexual... We... We can't.” Christopher struggled to speak, his pale hands trembling and his face terribly gaunt. I wanted badly to embrace him and comfort him, but I knew that it would almost be counterproductive.

 

“I understand. Will you be all right?”

 

He turned his gaze towards the vast landscape flowing with trees. He sighed shortly and gave a small shrug. “I will be fine, eventually. This is definitely a sign...”

 

I followed his gaze and nodded, “It does appear to be that way.”

 

“You... were never a boy to me, you know? You were always just Jon.” He looked back at me once more, the sadness even harsher than before. He lifted one hand and quickly, gently brushed my cheek. When he let his hand fall, I noticed how gray his eyes looked. “Now you're a boy.”

 

If there was ever an official sound meant to represent the breaking of a heart, it was that sound that rung throughout the trees and echoed into our ears. Doubly so, as I know fully well that the gray was not for his brother.

 

And now it was time for me to break his heart. “As are you.”

 

The deafening silence was unbearable. I can not recall any time in my life where I shed a single tear, but I will admit that at that moment I came so close to that and more.

 

Finally, Christopher spoke, his voice shaky and regretful. “I should probably return home now, I don't think my parents knew that I left.”

 

“Then you should leave. Wouldn't want them to send you away, too, right?” I halfheartedly smiled, wishing desperately that I could lift his spirits, even a little bit. Much to my dismay, it only seemed to make matters worse.

 

“Goodbye, Jon. I shall speak to you again soon.” He lifted himself off of the brown earth, and dragged his feet along the path out of the woods. I stayed for a while longer, wishing to be alone with my thoughts. It's strange how after one small event, one's life can change so drastically.

 

I was in no rush to speak to Christopher afterward. Make no mistake, I wanted to speak to him, but I thought it best to allow him to approach me first. But, as I walked home from my parents' shop one day after my work was finished, I passed by his house to find him sitting on his front porch. He was crying.

 

I stopped on the sidewalk and watched him. I didn't want to say anything, though I had the feeling that my staring was not much better.

 

“He's dead,” Christopher told me. I hadn't expected him to say anything, in fact I hadn't realised he knew I was there. “They killed him.”

 

“They killed him?” I repeated in shock. I dared to step closer to him, though I only took one step.

 

“There was an accident,” he continued. “That's what they told us, at least. My other brothers and sister, they believed it. They're young. But I'm older, I know better.” For the first time since I had arrived, he looked up. His eyes were bloodshot and watery, and his face was much more pale and tired than it had been the last time I had seen him. “It was no accident.”

 

“Oh, Chris-”

 

“Go away now, Jon. I don't feel much like speaking today.” His tone was a bit more rash than I thought it should have been, but I accepted his request because I knew it was what I should have done.

 

“Of course. My condolences.”

 

“Thank you.” I stood there for only a moment longer, deeply saddened by what I knew was going to happen.

 

Christopher was never the same. As the days passed by, he became more and more angry and, frankly, extremely rude. He took advantage of my willingness to obey him, and I think he realised it, so one day he decided to cut any and all connection between us. From then on, I only saw him a total of twice, and both were merely in passing on the street.

 

When my parents died many years later, I was given the privilege of running the shop. It was something I took pride in, something to distract me from the mess that my life had become. I was and will most likely always be very reluctant to say that I was in love with Christopher, but at the very least he was the most important person in my life. I also firmly believe that he will continue to be until I die.

 

The man and boy were still standing in their positions, seemingly frozen in time while I was stuck reminiscing. Then I noticed the man had removed his hand from the boy's back and was looking at me. His eyes softened as he kindly smiled and waved. And for the first time in more than twenty years, the Christopher I had known so well shone through once more.

 

 

Deranged

Part 5

 

 

The house was filthy. The living room was dimly lit; a tattered blood-stained blanket was sprawled hastily across the holey couch. Ants, cockroaches and termites infested the building.

 

Guy was sitting at the wooden table, which he guessed the termites had gotten to. Anyone would think he was a ghost. He was so white, his eyes were so bloodshot. Not to mention how thin he was.

 

He tapped his watch impatiently. “How long will this take?”

 

“Not too long,” said Mercy, leaning over the stove.

 

Guy waited and waited, reading a gossip magazine from the nineties.

 

“Here you go,” she smiled. Mercy handed a large bag over to Guy. “I gave you a little extra. Don’t tell David, please.” She looked over her shoulder to see the subject of conversation. David was a fierce man, though his pale skin and red curly hair wouldn’t show it.

 

“Of course not.” Guy gave Mercy a little kiss. Her breath smelled of cigarettes and vodka. Guy wondered how long it had been since she last brushed her teeth. He knew all of the women who worked there were pushed to their limits; that they weren’t paid or treated fairly. He knew for a fact none of them wanted to be there; that their husbands’ debts were so great they had to sell their wives’; that they were abducted and stolen, forced.

 

What Guy didn’t know, however, was that the women didn’t get fed. If one of their clients had some food that they wanted to give them, it was acceptable, as they owned the lady for the night… But when they had to work in the factory – like Mercy – they weren’t given anything to eat, no water to drink.

 

Mercy had a son back in her hometown. It saddened Guy to think that Mercy would never see her child…her child would never see his mother.

 

“Mercy,” Guy said.

 

She didn’t look up; she was concentrating on her work. “Yes, Guy?”

 

“I have a plan,” he whispered. “Do you want to get out of here?”

 

“What kind of question is that?” she asked, her voice as low as Guy’s. “Of course I do.”

 

Guy nodded. “I want you to see your son. Look, I know I’m a druggie and you probably don’t trust me, but my intentions are sincere.”

 

Mercy’s brown eyes glistened. She smiled a little. “Do you have a plan?”

 

“Yes,” he replied. “Just do as I say.”

 

-------------------

 

“So what were you before you became a…you know…” Mercy seemed to struggle to find the right words.

 

“I was a nothing, really,” Guy replied. “I play bass… I was trying to launch a music career. Besides from that, I just stayed home watching CSI and Law and Order all day while my partner was at work.”

 

Mercy grinned. “What was her name? What happened to her?”

 

“His name was Chris,” Guy said.

 

Mercy gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

 

“No problem,” he smiled. “He was an assassin… He was killed around three years ago.”

 

“I’m so sorry.” Mercy patted Guy on the back, trying to comfort him. He shrugged her hand off, and got back to driving.

 

“What’s your son’s name?” Guy asked.

 

Mercy opened her mouth to reply, but a loud siren drowned her words.

 

“Fuck.” Guy pulled over, and slammed his head against the steering wheel.

 

Someone strolled over to the car. Mercy shifted in her seat a little, Guy searched through his wallet for his driver’s license.

 

“There you are,” David grinned. He chuckled.

 

“Fuck… Uh, hi…” Mercy smiled.

 

David moved closer to the car. “What is it – swearing day or something?”

 

“Fuck yeah,” Guy said, not realising who he was speaking to. He looked up to see David. Guy gasped. His breaths came faster.

 

Standing next to David – with the same evil grin on his face – was Chris.

 

“What the hell are you doing here, Chris?” Guy was shocked. Ice did cause hallucinations – maybe this was one of those.

 

It wasn’t.

 

“I’m here to recruit you to our mafia.”

 

 

 

I had two minutes.

I wrote this for Brooke.:kiss:

 

 

Chris' Poem

 

 

 

I crave

I thirst

I hunger

I urge

I hanker

I desire

 

Chocolate

Sweets

Candy

Writing

Performing

Jonny

 

I relax

I enjoy

I sate

I expend

I satisfy

I devour

 

Sleeping

Digesting

Chewing

Playing

Strumming

Jonny

 

I crave

I thirst

I hunger

I urge

I hanker

I desire

 

Jonny satifies

All.

 

 

 

All You Ever Wanted

6

 

 

 

“OK, am I the only one creeped out by that neighbor guy?” Chris asked as he walked into the apartment. He had just run out to pick up a pizza, which was steaming from the box he held in his hand.

 

“No, that guy is freaking insane,” Jonny said with wide eyes, looking over the back of the couch. “The other day I swear I saw him watching me outside his window when I was getting into the car.”

 

“That's what happened just now!” Chris exclaimed, walking into the kitchen and placing the pizza box on the table. He took off his jacket and threw it onto one of the chairs. “I was coming up the stairs outside and I saw him peeking through the curtains.”

 

“Should we talk to him about it or something?” Jonny got up and stood beside Chris. “I mean, I'd kinda like for him to stop.”

 

“Yeah, but, I don't know... Honestly, I'm afraid of what he might do.” Chris turned around. There was a loud knock on the door, and both he and Jonny knew who it was. “Does he have supersonic hearing, too?” Chris freaked as he walked to the door.

 

“The walls are paper thin,” the dark-haired man said to Chris. “Seriously. If I had a pencil, I could just stab the wall, and it would go right through.” The man's emphasis on the word 'stab' frightened Chris, who eagerly began to apologize.

 

“Chris, there's nothing to be sorry about,” Jonny said as he moved Chris out of the way. Then, to the dark-haired man he said, “Listen, you're really creepy. Could you stop that?”

 

“Excuse me?” the dark-haired man shrieked. “I'm creepy? You two are doing God knows what in here and I'm creepy because the walls are paper thin?”

 

“No, you're creepy because your watching us from your window!” Jonny shouted. The dark-haired man bulged his eyes and began huffing. He looked behind Jonny at where Retaw was sitting.

 

“Who is that?” he asked, pointing to Retaw. Jonny quickly looked back.

 

“That's Walter.”

 

“Walter,” the man repeated, narrowing his eyes. “Who names their kid Walter?”

 

“Really?” Jonny sneered. “I'm sure lots of people name their kids Walter. What's your name, anyway? It can't be much better.”

 

The dark-haired man's eyes widened once more. “For your information, I don't have a name!” he yelled. “I was never given one.” Jonny stared at him unblinkingly for a few seconds.

 

“That is the worst lie I have ever heard,” he said.

 

“Why don't you believe me?” The man's tone had gone from angry to near tears in a surprisingly short amount of time. “I don't have a name, I swear.”

 

“His name is Guy,” Retaw said from his seat far away from the other men. “I saw it on the letterbox.”

 

Jonny and Chris both looked back at Retaw, and while they were doing so the dark-haired man took the opportunity to leave. Actually, he ran back to his apartment, but he wasn't nearly fast enough, and as he turned around Jonny saw him sprinting. Acting on what was perhaps a rather bad decision, Jonny followed the dark-haired man.

 

“I'm not answering the door!” he shouted after Jonny had knocked.

 

“Guy, please!” Jonny yelled, one hand on the doorknob, fully prepared to just walk in if he had to.

 

The door cracked open a tiny bit, enough for half of the dark-haired man's face to peek through. “No,” he said.

 

“What is wrong with you?” Jonny asked. “Why are you so weird?”

 

“I'm not weird!” he shrieked, and slammed the door. Jonny sighed and gave up. When he returned to his own apartment, Chris and Retaw were sitting at the kitchen table, eating the pizza and chatting.

 

“No, Retaw,” Chris said, “that's not something I really want to talk about. Especially not while we're eating.”

 

Retaw set down his slice of pizza on the plate in front of him and frowned. “But, Chris Martin, how am I supposed to be a human if I don't know how-”

 

“Google it or something!” Chris interrupted. Just then, he looked up to find that Jonny had returned. “Jonny, what happened?”

 

“Nothing happened. He's just crazy,” Jonny replied, collapsing into the nearest chair. “Seriously, the guy needs to be put on medication or something.”

 

“What if he's already on medication?” Chris worriedly asked. Jonny thought about it for a few moments, then made a face that said 'Oh God, I hope not'.

 

Retaw was silently watching the two make horrified faces at each other, all the while slowly nibbling at his dinner. After a bit of time, he asked, “What's Google?”

 

Chris broke his gaze on Jonny and looked at Retaw. “It's a... search engine,” he replied.

 

“Search engine?” Retaw repeated.

 

“Like, on the internet,” Jonny added. Retaw's eyes lit up and he raised his eyebrows in understanding.

 

“Oh! The internet. I see!” he smiled. “So, I if I go to this Google place, I can learn how-”

 

“Yes, you can. Now, will you please stop bringing that up?” Chris begged, raising his arms and stretching his hands in front of him.

 

“All right,” Retaw quietly answered. Jonny looked questioningly between the two of them.

 

“Bringing what up?” he asked.

 

“Nothing, dear, don't worry,” Chris said with a fake smile. He reached over to Jonny and patted his hand. “Retaw's just a little... curious... about... things.”

 

“OK,” Jonny shrugged after a few moments of silence. “So, Retaw, are you almost human now?”

 

“I'm not sure,” Retaw politely replied. “Chris Martin might know the answer better than I.”

 

“He's getting there. Not much longer, I think,” Chris answered. “In fact, it might only be a few days before you're completely ready.”

 

Retaw beamed at Chris. For the past year, all he had wanted was to come to Earth and be a human with Chris and Jonny. It had taken him most of that time just to travel from his home planet, and it had been quite difficult for him to leave his fellow aliens. But, deep in his heart, he knew that this was where he belonged.

 

 

All You Ever Wanted

 

7

 

 

 

A few days later, Jonny was busying himself with actual work for once. The e-mails he'd received from the paper company in Pennsylvania turned out to be a great business opportunity, which he finally realized after rereading them about a hundred times.

 

The plan was for Jonny's company, which dealt with website design, to create a series of new layouts for the other company's homepage. Primarily, Jonny would be doing this, as he was the head designer and the one who the e-mails were sent to.

 

He was hard at work when Mr. Champion walked by to monitor his progress. Jonny had noticed that this was something Mr. Champion did quite often, though he never really seemed to pay anyone else much attention.

 

“Working hard, I see,” Mr. Champion said. Jonny continued his work, not bothering to look up.

 

“Yes, sir,” he simply replied. Mr. Champion watched him silently for a few minutes before speaking again.

 

“Jonny, I hate to bother you, since you seem to be doing a fine job and all, but I need to speak with you in my office.” His tone carried hints of sarcasm and displeasure. Jonny stopped focusing on the computer and turned around.

 

“What for?” he asked.

 

“You'll see once we begin talking,” Mr. Champion vaguely replied. He immediately walked to his office, expecting Jonny to follow him. Jonny did, of course, as he had assumed that it was expected of him.

 

As he sat down in the chair opposite Mr. Champion, Jonny had the strange feeling of an interrogation light shining on him. The blinds on the window were pulled up, and the sunlight hit the back of Mr. Champion's head, leaving the front of his face in darkness.

 

“How are you doing today, Jonny?” Mr. Champion asked, building the already heightened tension in the room. “Everything going good?”

 

“Fine, thanks,” Jonny uneasily replied. He nervously began tapping his fingers on his thigh.

 

“I assume you're wondering why I asked you here,” Mr. Champion dumbly said.

 

“Yep.” Mr. Champion smiled, rather evilly, Jonny thought, and clasped his hands on the desk. He leaned forward, and the blocked sunlight spilled onto the desk and onto Jonny, but Mr. Champion was still left in darkness as he began to talk.

 

-

 

It was nearly five o'clock, and Chris knew that Jonny would be home shortly. So, he forced himself to stop lazing around watching TV with Retaw and walked into the kitchen to make dinner. He was never really a great cook, and he never felt like taking the time to try to be even a somewhat OK cook. Most of his meals were either quick microwavable dishes or spaghetti. Since they'd had the rest of the frozen dinners the previous night, Chris decided it was time for spaghetti.

 

He grabbed all the things he needed- sauce, noodles, a pot- and began to boil water on the stove. “One of these days I should really learn to cook,” he said to himself. “Jonny deserves so much better than this.”

 

For the next ten minutes, Chris ignored the cliché and watched the water boil. Slowly but surely, tiny bubbles began to form on the aqua surface. Suddenly, a pair of arms was wrapped around Chris's abdomen, and someone was resting their chin on his shoulder.

 

“Hi, Jonny,” Chris said, beaming, but keeping his gaze on the boiling water in front of him.

 

“How do you know it's me?” Jonny replied. “I could have been a serial killer or something.”

 

Chris picked up a spoon with one hand and a box of noodles with the other. He carefully poured half of the box's contents into the pot as he said, “I'm psychic.”

 

“Oh, right, I forgot,” Jonny laughed, still firmly holding on to Chris. “How was your day?”

 

“It was all right. Retaw's got this human thing down for the most part. He just needs a little more improvement on his English, I think, but he's basically set. He's out in the living room now, watching iCarly again. Ah, it was the funniest thing. What's the brother's name?”

 

“Spencer,” Jonny answered.

 

“Spencer, right. Retaw seems to think he's God or something. It's just hilarious. Anyway, we could probably send him out into the real world now, if we wanted to.” Chris stirred the noodle-filled water and placed his free hand on top of Jonny's. “So, how about you? What was your day like?”

 

Jonny didn't answer right away, instead he sighed and repositioned his chin a bit. “I, uh... got fired.”

 

“What?” Chris dropped the spoon he was holding and spun around to the best of his ability. Jonny kept his hands on Chris's waist, and Chris threw his arms around Jonny as he said, “What happened?”

 

“New supervisor just doesn't like me, I guess. It's not like I've been doing anything differently than I have been for the past five years.” Jonny paused, thinking of a way to bring up the thing that had been bugging him since he had received the news. “Um, Chris... I... well, you know, I made a lot of money working there, and now-”

 

“No, Jonny, don't worry about that,” Chris said. “Money's not a problem.”

 

“Are you sure?” Jonny pressed on. “Because I know we don't have a lot to begin with, and your job doesn't pay much.”

 

“Jonny, babe, it's fine,” Chris reassured him, holding Jonny's head between his hands and comforting him with his eyes. “Everything will work out.”

 

Jonny's face showed severe doubt, but he accepted Chris's statement anyway. He slowly nodded his head, and Chris smiled at him. “Everything will work out,” Jonny quietly repeated.

 

“Exactly, now go talk to Retaw or something, dinner's almost ready.” Jonny quickly peered around Chris to see what was on the stove-top.

 

“Spaghetti?” he plainly asked. Chris frowned at him.

 

“Sorry.”

 

Jonny looked back at Chris. “You apologize too much, you know that?” he said, swiftly brushing away the stray curl that had fallen on Chris's forehead. “Spaghetti is my favorite.”

 

“You told me your favorite was that frozen chicken crap,” Chris said, wrinkling his nose. “But thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

 

“Well, maybe I have two favorites.” Chris raised one eyebrow and stifled a laugh. “Fine,” Jonny confessed, “I don't. Did it work, though?”

 

“Did what work?”

 

“Me trying to make you feel better,” Jonny replied.

 

“Of course,” Chris smiled, his big blue eyes twinkling. “You always make me feel better.” His eyebrows scrunched together in a worried fashion as he added, “Do you feel better? About your job?”

 

 

“Yeah,” Jonny sincerely said, letting Chris's eyebrows rest in peace. “Thank you, Chris, I don't know what I'd do without you.”

 

 

 

It's a little short (again :rolleyes:) but hopefully I'll have another part up by later tonight :P

 

Deranged

Part 6

 

 

Guy was feeling dazed. He had no idea where he was, what the date was… He didn’t even know who the Prime Minister was.

 

He felt a sharp pain in his temple all of a sudden. He screamed in agony.

 

“Where am I?”

 

“Be quiet,” someone hushed. “It’ll all be over soon.”

 

For the next hour, Guy lay limp on – from what he’d established – an operating table.

 

“It’s finished now,” the person said. “You can open your eyes.”

 

Guy gently eased his eyelids open. He was almost blinded by the brightness. “What is this? What’s happening?” he yelled.

 

“Hmm, must’ve forgotten to turn off the lights,” the person muttered. They walked to the electricity box and fiddled with a few of the switches.

 

Guy gasped. “David… Is that you?”

 

David moved closer to him. “Yes, it is, Guy.”

 

“What did you do? Before, I mean?”

 

“Brain implantation device,” he replied simply.

 

Guy’s eyes bulged. “BRAIN IMPLANTATION DEVICE? WHAT?” he shouted.

 

“Every member of the mafia has one,” David shrugged. “Except me, of course, 'cause I’m the leader and all.”

 

“This doesn’t seem like a mafia at all,” Guy said once he’d finally calmed down. “It seems like a cult.”

 

David laughed. “Well, I guess you could call us a killing cult. We also eat llamas and carry sheets of bubble wrap in our Prada handbags.”

 

Guy wasn’t entirely sure if the last few things David mentioned were true or not. Guy saw a bright red bag sitting on the ground beside David’s feet, but decided to just ignore it.

 

“Why do I even need an implantation thingy?” Guy asked. “I don’t even remember agreeing to be part of this mafia-cult thing.”

 

“You didn’t,” David said. “As soon as you saw Chris standing next to me, you mumbled something or other and then you collapsed. And having an implantation device will help our technical team track your whereabouts around the clock. If you get lost on a hit we’ll know where to find you.”

 

Guy nodded. “Where’s Chris? Where’s Mercy?”

 

“Chris… He’s on holidays, clearing his head. He can’t believe that you’re back. Mercy…” David paused. “We disposed of Mercy.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because she knew what we did.” David checked the clock. “She didn’t know that we’re a mafia. Mercy thought we were merely drug dealing giants.”

 

A knock came from a door. Guy didn’t know which one, though. There were so many of the in the room.

 

“Come in,” yelled David. “Ah, Number Eighteen. Yes, what might you be here for?”

 

“A meeting,” the so called ‘Number Eighteen’ smiled. He was wearing a mahogany-coloured cloak.

 

“Come with us, Guy. You'll receive a number soon.”

 

 

 

:facepalm: Oh, gosh.

I'm not sure if this can be accepted on this thread. Tell me if it's not, please. It's a story, but it's more of a picture book type thing. :) I don't know...I get bored easily :P

 

Pumpkins

 

1

 

 

 

 

 

2

 

 

 

 

 

3

 

 

 

 

 

4

 

 

 

 

 

5

 

 

 

 

 

6

 

 

 

 

 

7

 

 

 

 

 

8

 

 

 

 

 

9

 

 

 

 

 

10

 

 

 

 

 

I'm really sorry if you can't read the writing. :D I never was the neatest...

And, yeah, I am really crap at drawing...even on Paint... :laugh3:

SPRING & WINTER

chapter 17

 

I apologize for the shortness of this snippet. IT SUCKS. I know.

 

 

 

 

The next time I saw Guy, he seemed to have completely forgotten about the unfortunate night I had to spend at his home. He remembered me being there, but whenever I asked, he would insist that he recalled nothing after I’d given him the first dose of medicine.

 

I couldn’t say if he was lying or not, no matter how hard I attempted to read his delicate features for my answer. My inner turmoil over what had happened began to appear on my body. I became a shade paler, grew thinner, and I developed a strange habit of resting my hand over my heart whenever I was uncomfortable. My mum didn’t seem to notice that there was anything wrong with me, or perhaps she just figured I would get over whatever was plaguing me.

 

In the house, only William seemed to be sympathetic. He would bring me tea, even when I hadn’t asked for it, and offered to go to the town to run errands, once again without me asking. “Oh, no,” I would say, most of the time. “Don’t bother yourself, Champion. Or if you do go, buy yourself something.” He would always decline that particular offer, but I could tell he was touched by it.

 

One day, he just couldn’t contain his concern. “Sir, pardon my boldness, but…you don’t seem to be faring well. Are you ill?”

 

“Ill?” I echoed. “Oh, I don’t think so.” My voice was light and indifferent, which seemed to confuse him.

 

“Sir, it is quite obvious.” I was impressed. He didn’t seem to be afraid of overstepping his boundaries as a servant. But I wasn’t in the mood for being pushed.

 

“Leave it alone,” I said slowly. Now there was a distinct iciness in my tone. “It’s no business of yours.” If William had seemed taken aback before, now he was definitely shocked.

 

“Of course, Sir,” he replied quietly. He turned to leave the room, and I had a sudden urge to call out to him. But I bit my tongue and merely watched him go. I felt badly for being so abrupt, but the last thing I wanted was for him to know about my struggle. I didn’t want anyone to know.

 

But, as usual, when Guy sent over an invitation for me to join him for a ride, I immediately accepted. I took every opportunity that would bring me closer to him; despite my thoughts that he didn’t actually think that I was anyone special. Even if he had completely forgotten that he admitted to fancying me, I would continue to seek out his true feelings.

 

However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to dig away at his heart. He hated it when I brought up that one night, and refused to speak of it. “Good Lord, Martin! I thought I told you never to bring that up again!” he would snarl defensively.

 

Not wanting to upset him, I would back down from the challenge and change the subject. But it was torturing me; not knowing what he had truly been feeling.

 

At the moment, Guy Berryman was not only the source of my joy. He also provided me with great agony.

 

 

 

Chris has to do his moping before we can move on and get to the exciting stuff. Unfortunately, moping doesn't take too long in fanfic. :P Next chapter, there will be some action to make up for this. And by 'action', I mean...

 

 

 

 

 

THE END OF DECADE SALE.

A Time of Great Sorrow.

 

 

 

 

Chris sat, simply staring at his Fender Rhodes piano. “I wish I didn’t have to give this up,” he said sadly. Guy was cradling his first bass in his arms.

 

“I know,” he agreed. “It’s sad.”

 

Will had his arms wrapped around his drumkit.

 

Jonny was sniffling over his Telecaster. “I don’t want to give up Chester,” he said.

 

“Jon, stop calling it that. It’s not normal.”

 

“You don’t understand!” Jonny cried.

 

“Of course I understand! I’m giving up Marilyn, aren’t I?” Guy shot back.

 

“None of you,” interrupted Will, “Can know the agony of giving up your first drum.”

 

“We’ve had such good memories with these guys...” murmured Chris. He was on the verge of tears. “One day, I thought I’d lost my baby, but it turns out someone had put him in the dumpster by mistake.”

 

“What does that have to do with the Fender?” Guy asked.

 

Chris paused. “I wasn’t talking about Moses, stupid. I was talking about the piano!”

 

Guy shrugged indifferently and continued to lovingly stroke his guitar. “One day,” he said, “I was really drunk, and I was getting really sick, and I needed a place to throw up. Marilyn was on the floor, and I nearly puked on her, but all of a sudden, the feeling went away!”

 

“So...what happened?”

 

“I did throw up...eventually. But not on Marilyn, THANK GOD.”

 

“Guy, that’s the worst story you’ve ever told us.”

 

The handsome bassist shrugged. “I don’t care if you think so,” he snorted. “It was a special night.”

 

Finally, Phil walked in the room. “I’m sorry, boys,” he said. “We’ve got to start packing this stuff up.”

 

Guy cried. Chris sobbed. Jonny wailed. Will moaned.

 

Eventually, all of the men managed to say their goodbyes, even if their instruments didn’t return their heartfelt confessions of everlasting love.

 

As they were being wheeled away, the Fender Rhodes turned to the Telecaster. “Thank God we’re finally away from those weirdos!” he said.

 

“Yeah,” replied Chester.

 

The other instruments all nodded.

 

 

All You Ever Wanted

8

 

Retaw nervously clung to Chris's side, scanning the massive group of people before him. He was decked out in his best outfit- a tight black shirt, a pair of the faded jeans from Chris's brother, and to top it all off, a pair of the darkest sunglasses in the world. It was almost like he was walking around with his eyes closed. Chris told him they'd make him look stylish and cool, though, so he happily wore them.

 

He was extremely on edge. This would be the first human contact he would have as a human. And by himself. Chris constantly reassured him that he would be not too far away the entire time, but Retaw was still horrified of not fitting in properly.

 

“Why are there so many people here?” Retaw asked. Chris turned and gave him the 'you're dumb' look.

 

“It's the mall. This is where people come to shop. Everyone comes here to shop, and, actually, some people come to just hang out,” Chris replied.

 

“Oh.” Retaw shifted a little, observing the crowd. There were plenty of families bustling around, it seemed, perhaps because it was a boring Sunday afternoon. There were also several large groups of teenage girls, all giggling and dressed like sluts in hopes of attracting the ugly teenage boys who leaned against the walls, looking ridiculously uncool, but believing otherwise.

 

Retaw couldn't understand what the appeal was of these young men, but the girls seemed to be going out of their way to get noticed by them. Then again, he also couldn't see the appeal of the girls, with their faces buried under twenty pounds of make-up, and their clothes about eight times too small.

 

There was one girl he noticed. She was far from a teenager, though, probably around forty. She had pin-straight, dark brown hair, which she was using to hide her face from the world. Her head was tilted down, and her hands were messing with the hem of her lavender blouse in an almost standoffish sort of way.

 

“Retaw,” Chris said, waving a hand in front of Retaw's eyes after he'd noticed the alien staring oddly at the woman. “Re-e-e-taw!”

 

“What do you want, Martin?” Retaw immediately snapped, a bit too harshly. Then, lowering his voice, he added, “And my name is Walter now. No more Retaw. Ever.”

 

“OK, sorry, Walter.” Chris held out his hands in defeat, and Retaw returned his gaze to the woman. She was leaving now, though, and as she stood up her long, black skirt flowed with every little movement she made. Her exit appeared to be in the direction that Chris and Retaw were standing, and her path was almost straight at them. This really should have worried the already anxious Retaw, but somehow he felt calmer than before.

 

As she walked on, Retaw noticed something. Once she was in earshot of them, he turned to her and said, “Excuse me, ma'am?” Chris watched in surprise as Retaw talked to the woman, relaxed and confident and not at all like he was just moments earlier. The woman looked back to where she had come from, her dark hair still covering her face.

 

“Oh. Thank you,” she said in a silky voice. She began to make her way back to retrieve a medium-sized paper bag she had left behind. When she disappeared again, she went in a completely different direction than before.

 

“What was up with that?” Chris asked Retaw with a sneaky grin. “You were totally flipping out a minute ago, then you talk to this woman like it's nothing?”

 

“That was very strange,” Retaw quietly replied. His mind was clouded by a foggy swirl of thoughts, none of which were clear at all. Something about the woman had set him at ease, something that he couldn't quite pinpoint. Had it been her anti-social behavior that perhaps he sympathized with? Nothing else seemed to fit, really.

 

Chris patiently waited for Retaw to stop spacing out, which took a while. When he finally did, Chris said to him, “Listen, Walter, we can go home now if you want. I think you did pretty well today.”

 

“No,” Retaw decisively answered. “If we stop now, I won't be able to get over this horrible nervousness.” He held his hand out to Chris and demanded, “Give me some money.”

 

“Excuse you?” Looking at Retaw in total bewilderment, having never seen him be so upfront before, Chris reluctantly pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He took out a fiver, slapped it into Retaw's open palm, and said, “Don't spend it all in one place, kid.”

 

Retaw nodded, though he didn't quite understand what Chris meant. He scanned the area swiftly, determining where his destination should be. He spotted a shop that seemed to be not too overpopulated, but with just enough people that he was bound to have loads of interaction with other humans. After giving a quick wave to Chris, he set off for the store.

 

There were only about ten other people in the store, but they managed to take up about half of the space. A woman and her two sons, a teenage girl, three teenage boys, a young man and his wife, and an older man were spread out between the merchandise. The older man was closest to the door, and the first one that Retaw saw as he walked in. The man paid him no attention, though, too distracted by the almost impossible task of choosing between a red tie with white stripes and a white tie with red stripes. Retaw walked on past him, and past the group of teenagers. He thought he heard the girl snicker as he strutted by, but he brushed it off and continued on to the back display, where a mannequin was modeling off a big, puffy, blue jacket. It was rather ugly, he thought.

 

“Excuse me,” he heard a woman's voice say. He turned to see the woman with her sons, presumably wishing to pass through the space that Retaw was occupying. He gave her a friendly smile and moved out of the way. All in all, his human interaction up to that point had gone rather well. He almost wished Chris was there to see how well he was doing, until he remembered that Chris kinda held him back. Not that he did it intentionally, Retaw was just so used to being an alien around Chris that he felt as if he failed at being human. When he was by himself, Retaw had this odd sort of confidence. It wasn't the same as when he talked to the mysterious dark-haired woman, though. He wasn't even sure what to call the way he felt around her.

 

Retaw soon grew bored of the store with its ten people, but thought it rude to leave without purchasing anything. So, he grabbed the cheapest thing he could find and brought it to the register. The cashier was a snooty middle-aged man, who sneered at Retaw's bald head and strange fashion sense. Retaw could tell that he was being judged, which made him feel uneasy and a bit paranoid. He didn't seem to pass whatever test the cashier was conducting, but he left the store without any real trouble.

 

“How did it go?” Chris asked when they met up. He was carrying a small bag, something he must have bought while Retaw gone.

 

“It was good,” Retaw shrugged. “I didn't really talk to anyone.”

 

“Ah, that's normal,” Chris reassured him. “Strangers don't really strike up conversations with each other around here, people pretty much keep to themselves.”

 

“What's that?” Retaw pointed to the bag. Chris looked down at the bag and held it closer to himself.

 

“Oh, that... it's nothing,” he said. He quickly tried to distract Retaw's attention by suggesting they leave. It really wasn't hard to do, though, because Retaw's attention was already diverted to the memory of the encounter with the mysterious woman. Although he hadn't actually seen it, he felt like he already knew her face and, with that, knew her beauty.

 

Maybe it was her mysteriousness that drew him in and attracted his mind to thoughts of her. Or maybe it was the way her flowing skirt and long hair reminded him of the days when he had once known love. Back home, where he had loved the most beautiful alien girl of all, and she had loved him, too. When she suddenly disappeared, he was heartbroken. He never really got over it, but his friendship with Chris and Jonny had certainly helped him to cope.

 

As they were walking back to the car, Retaw glimpsed at Chris and smiled. He knew that there was something going on with Chris and Jonny, something that they weren't telling Retaw. It wasn't his business, though, he thought, but he just hoped that things were going well for them. They deserved only the best, after all.

 

I don't know why I did one of these... I hate them enough in school!!!!!:laugh3::laugh3:

 

Jonny's Holiday Recount

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A translation for those who can't read my writing. (Don't worry - there's a heap of us!!) :D

 

 

As soon as we were dismissed from school on the eleventh of December last year, Chris and I were thrilled. We were finally free from the dump the government call a school.

 

The first thing we did was Jane Fonda aerobics, which might seem odd... Well, sugar seems to do strange things to Chris and I. Anyway, it was loads of fun. I wore a lime green leotard and Chris wore a pastel pink one with yellow and purple polkadots.

 

Chris and I wrote a few songs. There's one that doesn't have a title yet but is coming together nicely.

 

We watched Die Hard 3 like forty-two times. It's my favourite film in the series by far. I love the game of Simon Says the evil Simon plays with Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson. Call me psycho, but I just adore that type of film and television. CSI and SVU do it well, also.

 

When we were at the mall the other day, though, a few kids who were in our class last year dragged us into an alleyway and beat us up just 'cause we were holding hands. Chris got a broken nose. I'm surprised he could even come today, but he insisted. I just hope people in high school this year are a lot less judgemental.

 

Well, that's about it. The holidays would have been so boring had Chris not been there. Actually, they were boring...but Chris makes everything fun. Anyway, I'm just gonna draw now.

 

[random drawings]

 

 

I did some work on Paint too,

Something like Hahna's, though it's more like a Chibi Manga or comic.

 

Nom Nom Kiss

 

 

 

 

 

The most stupidest thing i've ever done.

I slacked at the last one.

^aw :cheesy:

 

SUPER COLDPLAY

The Christmas Special :awesome: Part Uno :cheesy:

 

 

 

 

It had been a long day of rehearsal at the bakery, when Guy decided he wanted to get drunk.

 

“I want to get drunk,” Guy muttered.

 

“I know,” Jonny smirked.

 

“SHUTUP, JON! GET A LIFE!”

 

Chris frowned. “GUY STOP YELLING AT JON FOR READING YOUR MIND!”

 

Something hit Chris in the back of the head. “CHRIS STOP YELLING AT GUY FOR YELLING AT JON FOR READING HIS MIND!”

 

“WILL STOP HITTING AND YELLING AT CHRIS FOR YELLING AT GUY FOR YELLING AT ME BECAUSE I READ HIS MIND!”

 

Guy suddenly vomited fire.

 

Everyone looked at each other.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jonny sat down next to Guy and gave him a big hug.

 

“Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww,” Chris and Will joined in, too.

 

“Do I really want to know?” No-longer-evil-yet-still-totally-hot Phil walked in the room.

 

“Erm…no?” Will quickly backed away.

 

Phil shook his head and opened an extremely large and shiny briefcase. “Boys…I have a mission for you.”

 

Chris jumped up. “Do we get candy??”

 

“Eh…no. I received this from a disclosed location this morning…” He placed a small envelope on the table.

 

Jonny cautiously grabbed it. “It’s a letter. A man wants us to”

 

“Jonny open it so we can read it,” Will smiled.

 

Jonny shrugged and opened the letter, backing away when I holographic image appeared.

 

“Hello Super Coldplay,” a large man spoke. He had a big white beard, and was wearing a red suit.

 

“SANTA!” Chris jumped up and down.

 

“Yes, Chris, it’s me. And I need your help. One of my elves was trying to take Comet on a walk this morning,” he scowled down at one of the little men surrounding him, “and somehow managed to lose the reindeer. Without Comet, I can’t fly my sleigh to deliver presents. I need you, Super Coldplay, to find my reindeer by tomorrow night, and bring him back to me!”

 

“YESSIR!”

 

The letter exploded into five hundred sixty seven shreds of paper.

 

 

SUPER COLDPLAY part twoooooo

 

 

 

“Are we there yet?” Chris whined.

 

“No.”

 

“Are we there yet?”

 

“No!”

 

“Are there NOW?”

 

“NO!” Guy stomped his foot on the brake. “We are NOT there yet!”

 

“Geeze, sorry,” Chris rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “How come they can sing and stuff?”

 

In the backseat, Will and Jonny were happily singing “99 Cans of Twiglets on the Wall”.

 

“Because they’re back there. You’re up here, supposed to be giving me directions.”

 

Chris looked down at the map. “Um…take a left turn at the next exit…”

 

Guy swiftly changed lanes.

 

“Oh, silly me, the map is upside down!”

 

The car swerved out of the exit lane last minute, followed by a chorus of car horns and some guy who felt the need to flip Guy off. “Merry Christmas to you, too, buddy!” Guy returned the gesture.

 

“So…get off here, instead!”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Positive!”

 

Guy drove off the thruway and parked at a McDonald’s. The boys each got a burger…well, except Chris who just got a muffin, and then sat in their car for ten minutes.

 

“Where the heck are we supposed to find a reindeer?” Will frowned as he tossed his wrapper on the ground.

 

“It’s not like they just roam around…” Guy murmured.

 

“There’s only one place we can find Comet,” Jonny grinned at Chris.

 

“THE ZOO??”

 

“No…the farmer’s market.”

 

 

Don't kill me for being too short....This is the result of listening to Winter...

 

Home

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was nothing he could explain. It was the same day over and over again. The same dull feeling from the time he woke up until he dropped on his bed at night.

 

He woke up that day like any other day.

 

He went to his living room, looked at everything with a frown on his face. Everything looked the same. The same locations, the same colors, the same emptiness.

 

He closed his eyes and tried to hear something. He didn’t. Not even his own breathing. Not even his heartbeat.

 

What happened to me?

 

He went to the window, glancing at the city sprawled in front of his eyes.

 

Beautiful colors in the beautiful London morning. Beautiful children strolling with their beautiful parents.

 

He looked away from the window and his eyes landed on an antique mirror on the cream-colored wall beside him.

 

His brown eyes seemed to be lifeless, drained from any form of excitement or joy. His pale face a contrast to his dark locks. It pained him to see himself like this, so defeated. So broken and pitiful. So utterly alone.

 

He sat on his couch, putting his head in his hands. So much for ending like this.

 

Today was Christmas Day.

 

Today, he was alone. Like any other day.

 

 

 

 

How Long Before I Get In??, part 4:

 

 

 

Carlton led us over to the plane. But then, Eddie from New Zealand leapt out in front of us and said, "ARE YOU PEOPLE COLDPLAY?"

 

"YES WE ARE," said Chris. "PLEASED TO MEET YOU, I'M CHRIS MARTIN FROM COLDPLAY."

 

"Okay. You guys suck."

 

"WHATT???" Brooke demanded. Her eyes caught on fire.

 

"Well, except for Amsterdam."

 

"Why would that be?" asked Chris intently. "TELL ME. I WANT CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM."

 

"You pathetic whiney bullshit," said Eddie cheerfully. "Probably not. But yeah."

 

"..." said Will.

"..." said Guy.

"..." said Jonny.

"...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" said Brooke.

"..." said Carlton.

"...???" said Chris.

"...Eddie, that isn't a reason," I finally said.

 

While everyone was looking at Eddie, Liz from Coldplaying ran by and got on the plane, coz she asked me to make her be in the fanfic. Carlton also went in to warm the plane up, because it gets very chilly in the winter. "HEY," I said. "LIZ WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Eddie ran away, because Brooke had already fetched a meat knife from the kitchen.

 

I followed Liz because the band decided to have a huddle and discuss the latest constructive criticism they had gotten, which they do all the fucking time because they are soooo fucking conscientious, and they were probably going to be at that boring stuff all day now.

 

So, I got on the plane to wait for them, but there were already some people on it! Alex Turner and Miles Kane were. "OOOOOH," I said, "YOU GUYS SUCK, BECAUSE YOU AREN'T FROM COLDPLAY." I said this because I loved Coldplay with all my heart and would defend them from a fate worse than death.

 

"What the fuck?" said Miles Kane.

 

"You heard me, BITCH," I said. "You SUCK."

 

"No he doesn't!" said Milica.

 

"Um, yes he does," I said. "You're wrong."

 

Then Alex Turner said something, but I didn't listen, because he sucks. Carlton started up the plane and we started flying to Las Vegas. Then, Milica told me The Last Shadow Puppets had covered a Rhianna song, and that Rhianna had worked with Jay-Z before, which obviously made them awesome, because Jay-Z is awesome, because he was on Lost+, and he collaborated with CHRISTOPHER MARTIN on that one song. So I decided they were actually tolerably okay.

 

By the time we got to Las Vegas, I was wondering why Coldplay had gone so long without having sex with me, and then I realized we left them over at Jenweth's house. "Oops," I said.

 

"Carlton!" I yelled. But he couldn't hear me because he was too busy piloting the plane. "WE FORGOT COLDPLAY AGAIN." But he still couldn't hear me because he was still piloting the plane!

 

So I opened the door to the piloting room, and told him we forgot the band. But the silly pilot still couldn't hear me! I didn't know why he couldn't for a second. Then I realized he was asleep. So I kicked him to wake him up. But he was actually dead.

 

(This also explained why we had been falling down so quickly of late.)

 

"HEY, LIZ," I yelled. "UM, DO YOU KNOW HOW TO FLY A PLANE?"

 

"FUCK NO!" she said. "WHY?"

 

"OUR PILOT DIED."

 

"OH... I'LL ASK ALEX."

 

"ALEX CAN DO ANYTHING," added Milica, starry-eyed. "HEY ALEX, COME PILOT THE PLANE."

 

"Okay!" said Alex.

 

"You might want to hurry," I said, "the ground is getting kind of close."

 

"OH MY GOD, SARA," said Liz. "YOU WERE BEING SERIOUS?"

 

"Sure!" he said. "Just hold on, I'm not done with this sandwich."

 

"GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE," screamed Liz, "WE ARE ABOUT TO HIT THE FUCKING GROUND."

 

He strolled into the pilot room, brushing off crumbs from his pants. "What's the matter?"

 

"We're about to hit the ground."

 

"WE'RE ABOUT TO HIT THE FUCKING GROUND!!!"

 

"Oh! This is one of the easiest things in piloting," he said casually, and leaned against a lever, and then the plane went WOOOOOOOSSSSHHH and we didn't hit the ground, which was sort of good because I think Liz was about to pee herself at this point. Chick needs to loosen up, honestly. "D'you all think you're good for now?"

 

"NO"

 

"Hmph. Okay," he said, and he pressed another few buttons. Then we landed in the Las Vegas airport. "We're supposed to go back and get Coldplay now," I said.

 

Then Eddie poked his head in. "Why would you want to do such a thing?" he asked grumpily.

 

"Um... Eddie, where the fuck did you come from?"

 

"I snuck onboard," he said proudly, "because I don't like Coldplay. See, I smashed this thingamajuffin here."

 

"...Eddie... that's Jonny's guitar."

 

"EXACTLY. This guitar plays NONE OF THE NOTES. MWAHAHAHAHAHA."

 

"Silly Coldplay non-likers," I said. "What are you doing on a Coldplay fan plane if you don't like Coldplay??"

 

"Hey!" said Alex, "are we going to get Coldplay or not? I want to stay here and gamble, personally. Let's stay here."

 

"NO," I said. "I LOVE COLDPLAY. LET'S GO GET THEM."

 

"Urgh, okay. Miles, go put some gas in the plane, will you?"

 

Miles put some gas in the plane. Then Alex turned the plane around by getting out and pushing it. (Because he can do anything.)

 

 

 

...ehhh.... needs some more sex

 

How Long Before I Get In??, part 4.5

 

 

 

Meanwhile, back in New York, Coldplay were having sex in Jenwith's house. Mostly it was Guy and Jonny and Chris. Will was off doing silly things.

 

"ROARRRRRRR" said Guy. Chris had an orgasm. Guy looked cool and "played Chris' bass." (See what I did there, it's sexual innuendo.)

 

Cloned

 

 

 

He sighed. Jonny rang the doorbell and waited patiently.

 

Will opened the door a few minutes later and Jonny placed his coat and hat on the wooden rack. They both sat on the couch without a word and Will turned on the TV.

 

"You want to go to American Gangster? I want to dress like a douche." Will asked.

 

"Nah, how about tomorrow or Tuesday?"

 

"But you said we could today!" Will said growing frustrated.

 

"I'm a bit tired..." Jonny said.

 

Will sighed. "For God's sake, cancel my Tuesday appointments!" Will shouted towards someone near the back of the couch.

 

A person that looked exactly like Will stepped forward with a planner in one hand and a pen in the other. Although he looked similar to Will, his hair was sticking up slightly and one of his eyes always looked in the opposite direction.

 

"Do you want me to move it to another day?" the man asked, with a smile. He talked slower than Will and his speech was a little off.

 

"No, just cancel it." Will ordered.

 

"Okay, will do." The man walked away and Jonny stayed sullen for a moment.

 

Jonny jumped up from the couch next to Will.

 

"Who the hell was that? There was another Will just standing right there."

 

"Oh yeah. I've been so damn busy lately and my schedule has been so packed that I've needed some sort of human to do all my pain-in-the-ass stuff, so I cloned myself." Will told him proudly.

 

"Y-YOU CLONED YOURSELF?" Jonny shouted.

 

"What are you, deaf?"

 

"So he is an exact copy of you?" Jonny asked, curious of how Will could have pulled this off.

 

"Not exactly. I drained out some of his intelligence so I still remain superior to him." Will answered. "I call him Bitchwill. Would you like to meet him?"

 

"Uhm, yeah I guess."

 

"Bitchwill! Come here to meet my friend Jonny."

 

Bitchwill ran out to the living room in almost the same exact clothes as Will, except his had holes all over..

 

"Hi Will. Oh you gotta friend? I'm always happy to meet one of your friends!" He talked quickly now.

 

Jonny was shocked. "Dear god..."

 

"It's so nice to meet you, I'm Bitchwill!" Bitchwill forcefully shook Jonny's hand.

 

"Wow, he's got quite a grip."

 

"Isn't he wonderful?" Will asked Jonny.

 

 

 

Some more killing soon...hopefully...:laugh3:

 

Deranged

Part 7

 

 

 

One would think Guy was a loner. He sat in the corner by himself all day long. Whenever they let him out of the cell, he’d roam the halls, sighing in despair as he heard yet another cheesy romantic comedy sounding from the lounge room.

 

He was crazy. He was sick of being locked up in this cult. He wanted to be different…not an easy task when everyone is forced to wear matching cloaks. Guy wanted to watch a James fucking Bond movie; not this Meg Ryan crap.

 

“Lunch time.”

 

Guy turned, though he knew what he’d see – a brick wall, the eyes of a pimply teenager who was sliding a ham and cheese sandwich through the slot.

 

“Thanks, son.” Guy grabbed the bag. He opened it. Maybe Guy had gotten lucky and Chris or David had enclosed a new book. Frankly, he was sick of reading Twilight and that Paris Hilton autobiography.

 

Nope, no new novels… but a note instead.

 

Meet me at dinnertime in the garden. You’ll need a permit to get in. Talk to George at the front desk and show him this note. David.

 

--

 

Guy was walking to the garden. He hadn’t a clue where it was, though; Guy had never needed to go there in the six months he had been trapped in the cult’s headquarters.

 

He saw a large wire gate and a guard standing in front of it.

 

“Uh…hi…” Guy said, smiling awkwardly. “I’m here to see David.”

 

“Got a permit?” The man look dozed, like he was on drugs. That reminded Guy…he hadn’t had any ice in over twenty-four hours. He needed to ask David to get him some.

 

Guy pulled the license from one of the many pockets on his cloak. “Here.”

 

The guard opened the lock. “Have fun,” he mumbled. Someone obviously hated their job.

 

“Ah, Guy,” David smiled, “it’s great to see you. Now, tell me something… Would you like to get out of here?”

 

Guy took a seat on the chair. He noticed another man was sitting at the table, also. “Are you kidding me?” Guy asked. “Of course.”

 

“Guy, meet Jon.” David pointed in the direction of the other man. “Jon, meet Guy.”

 

Jon rose from his seat and offered a hand to Guy. “Hi, Guy,” he greeted. “And it’s Jonny.”

 

“Guy, Jon would like you to do a hit for him,” David said.

 

Jonny nodded. “Yes. I understand you’ve got a good history. You should be right to perform it unaided.”

 

“Yes,” Guy confirmed, “but would I get freed, like you told me before, David?

 

Jonny answered the question instead. “Yes, you’d be working for me and my associates, if that counts. You wouldn’t be locked in the cells, but you would still belong to the mafia.”

 

Guy didn’t reply; he was busy assessing the choices. Honestly, both sounded rather unappealing. The cells were horrible; he felt so guilty after doing a hit.

 

“What do you say?” Jonny smiled. “It’s really the best opportunity. You’d get three weeks vacation a year. That’s pretty good…”

 

Guy sighed. “OK. I’ll do it.” He didn't want to. He had to. He could not stand another day in that hellhole.

 

“Fantastic,” David grinned. He hugged Guy tightly. “Jon, care to share the details with Guy… Who he’d be…getting rid of…”

 

Jonny handed over a folder bursting with thousands of sheets of paper. Guy flicked through them quickly.

 

“What’s their name?” Guy asked.

 

“Will Champion roughed up my kid,” Jonny said. “Now it’s your turn to rough up Will Champion.”

 

 

 

 

Cloned

 

 

 

 

The doorbell's sound thundered through the house.

 

"Come in." Jonny called.

 

Will walked in. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to Chris Martin's Birthday party." Jonny said.

 

"No way, I hate that kid. And Birthday parties. So I sent Bitchwill in my place."

 

***

 

At the birthday party Chris was twirling Bitchwill around in circles blindfolded, helping him get ready to pin the tail on the donkey. Will carefully felt along the large poster trying to figure out where to put the donkey's tail on the picture. He placed the tail on and removed his blindfold.

 

Bitchwill frowned.

 

"Oh no! It's not on his butt, it's on his face! I've ruined it!" He sighed. "Oh well, that's okay. Someone else will come along and get it right!" He shouted.

 

"Hey thanks, for coming to my party, Will." Chris thanked him cheerfully, wearing a point party hat.

 

"Oh, I wouldn't miss it for anything! I've never been invited to a party before."

 

"Want to watch me blow out the candles?" Chris asked, gesturing towards the cake with candles on it.

 

"I'd love to see that! And I'd love to play with some of your birthday toys, but only if you play with them first and you say it's okay."

 

***

 

"Wow, I'm surprised. It seems like your clone is coming in pretty handy." Jonny paused. " I don't suppose... You would consider making one for me, would you?"

 

"Oh, maybe... what would you be willing do for me?"

 

"Well, what would you want?"

 

Will smiled. "Take your hand and run your fingers along the length of the lamp shade."

 

"Why?"

 

Will laughed. "Because that's what I asked you to do."

 

"That's kind of weird... Is this some sort of sexual thing?"

 

"No, no, no, no! No one said anything about sexual! Nothing sexual about it. I only asked you to perform a simple task."

 

"I only have to do it once?"

 

"I'll tell you when to stop." Will assured him.

 

Jonny stroked the tall lamp shade once and stopped and then looked at Will.

 

He laughed. "I don't know why you stopped, no one told you to stop."

 

So Jonny continued for about a minute or two.

 

"Now give me a smile." Will ordered Jonny. Jonny didn't see where this was going, but just did what Will said to.

 

"Your lips look a bit dry, why don't you wet them a bit?" Jonny carefully licked his lips, still smiling and rubbing the lamp.

 

Will burst into laughter.

 

"My God! You are so weird! Alright, alright I'll make you a clone, buddy." And Will continued to laugh as he headed upstairs to make Jonny a clone.

 

 

 

 

I hope no one was expecting much... :P

All You Ever Wanted

 

9

 

 

“Did everything go all right?” Jonny asked when Chris and Retaw arrived home. Chris threw his car keys onto the small table by the door and began to walk towards Jonny.

 

“Yeah, it went really well, it seems,” Chris replied. He was still holding on to the small bag, which he held out to Jonny. With a tiny smile, he said, “I got this for you.”

 

“What?” Jonny raised his one eyebrow as he took the bag. He carefully opened it and pulled out the item that was inside. “Chris, oh my God.”

 

“Does that mean you like it?” Chris looked with hopeful eyes at Jonny, who was absolutely speechless. In his hand was the most gorgeous looking watch that he'd ever seen. It was silver, and its face was tinted a light blue. Since he wasn't saying anything, Chris decided to continue, “I saw it, and I thought you'd like it. I wanted to... well, the other day you said you felt better, but I didn't really believe you, so I thought maybe if I got you this, it would help... I don't know, maybe I was wrong, but-”

 

“Chris,” Jonny stopped him, “Thank you.” He wrapped his arms around Chris, his hands on Chris's back tightly pressing them together. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.” Chris smiled against Jonny's shoulder and returned his embrace.

 

“But I don't want the watch.” Jonny pulled away and held the watch out to Chris. Chris looked at him with a broken expression as he said, “Please, take it back.”

 

“Why, you don't like it?”

 

Jonny shook his head, “No, I love it, and it was amazing of you to do that for me, but it looks really expensive. And, Chris, I know we can't afford it.” He still held his hand out, but Chris ignored it.

 

“If you like it, then you should keep it.” Chris refused to break eye contact with Jonny, and refused to take the watch, but Jonny was just as stubborn as he was.

 

“Give me the receipt,” Jonny demanded, lowering his one hand and opening the other.“If you won't take it back, I will.” Chris still just looked at him, beginning to wince. “Listen, you got it for me to make me feel better, right? Just the fact that you did that makes me feel better, OK? So, I don't need this fancy watch, and you can take it back.”

 

The pair were silent for a few moments, before Chris finally gave in and took the watch from Jonny. “OK,” he sadly muttered.

 

“Are you angry with me?”

 

“No, of course not,” Chris quietly replied, slightly shaking his head. Jonny took a hard look at him and narrowed his eyes.

 

“But you're disappointed,” he said. Chris looked up at him and shrugged.

 

“I wanted you to have something nice.”

 

Jonny tilted his head in a sympathetic manner, then ruffled Chris's hair and said, “I already do.”

 

Chris rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help grinning from ear to ear. “You just wait 'til the day when being cheesy doesn't work. It'll happen,” he threatened, pointing his index finger at Jonny. “Eventually we'll just be an old married couple who don't like each other.”

 

“Ugh, I hope not,” Jonny said, making a distasteful face.

 

“Oh, Jonny.” Chris placed his hand on Jonny's cheek and leaned in close. “You can hope all you want, it'll still happen.” Jonny laughed, but soon he noticed that Chris's eyes were wide and his expression was quite alert.

 

“What?”

 

“There hasn't always been a creepy short guy on our fire escape, right?” Chris answered. Jonny spun around to see what Chris was talking about, and found that Guy was peering into the room through their window. He realised he'd been caught and tried to stealthily leave, but it was in no way convincing.

 

“What the fuck?!” Jonny turned back to Chris and sighed. “We have to do something about this.”

 

Chris nervously looked around for a moment. “What are we gonna do?”

 

“I... I don't know, but, seriously, something's wrong with him,” Jonny replied, and Chris nodded.

 

“He scares me quite a lot,” he quietly said.

 

“I could talk to him for you,” Retaw suddenly spoke up.

 

Chris turned to him and lowered his eyebrows. “Really? Why would you do that?”

 

“I haven't talked to him yet... It might be good experience for me, and maybe I can convince him to stop being so creepy.”

 

“It's your funeral,” Chris snorted, turning back around.

 

“What?” Retaw genuinely asked.

 

Chris gave a small laugh and clarified, “You can go talk to him if you want, but just be careful. You never know what he's capable of.”

 

Retaw thought this over, then nodded. “You don't have to worry about me, Martin, I think I can handle this,” he smiled. He comically puffed up his chest and confidently walked out of the apartment as Chris and Jonny watched him, both holding in their laughter.

 

When Retaw finally left, they released bursts of laughter, and Chris said, “Oh, they grow up so fast.”

 

As confident as he was, Retaw was not nearly as successful at first as he thought he might be. He knocked on Guy's door, but there was absolutely no answer. However, the door had been cracked open, so when he knocked it flew back the rest of the way. Retaw had half-expected Guy to be sitting in the middle of the front room, but he saw no such thing. Instead, there was a rather large box sitting in the middle of his living room, which Retaw estimated to be the size of a refrigerator. The box was turned so that one side of it was completely exposed to the open door, and a small portion of the side next to it was showing. Retaw could have sworn that he saw urgent-looking letters on the side, but before he could examine it further, Guy swooped in front of him.

 

“Can I help you?” he asked in a freakishly high-pitched voice. His eyes were wide and kinda bloodshot, and his hair was ruffled. Retaw could see exactly why Chris was afraid of him, but he bravely remained in his spot.

 

“Hello, Guy. I don't know if you remember, but I'm Walter-”

 

“I know who you are,” Guy spat. “You're that bald guy who lives next door.”

 

“Yes, I live with Chris and Jonny. They're very nice people, you know, since they're letting me stay there.”

 

Guy narrowed his eyes at Retaw and in a low voice kept repeating, “Chris and Jonny.”

 

“Yes, Chris and Jonny,” Retaw replied. He smiled at Guy, which seemed to freak out the dark-haired man. “Don't you think they're nice?”

 

“No, they steal my mail!” Guy shrieked. Retaw was a bit taken aback by this, and so for a few moments he remained silent.

 

“I-I don't think they do. Are you certain?”

 

“I've seen them,” Guy whispered, suspiciously looking around. “They think I don't know, but I know.” Guy leaned closer to Retaw and began to laugh. “I know.”

 

“Oh,” Retaw replied, at a loss for words. “Uh... I can talk to them about it, if you like. I'll tell them to stop.”

 

Guy's face lit up, and he brightly said, “Would you? That would be... awesome!” He smiled at Retaw, then without warning hugged him. “Thank you!”

 

“You're welcome,” Retaw said, lightly patting Guy's back. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure! What do you want to ask me?”

 

“What's that box?” Guy stopped hugging Retaw, and as he pulled back his face went blank.

 

“It's nothing,” he muttered. Retaw thought he might start to flip out, but he remained surprisingly calm. “Um, I have to go now,” he said, and he sounded as though he was almost in tears. “Bye.”

 

He slowly backed up and closed the door, leaving Retaw rather stunned. It was what he figured would be the weirdest conversation he would ever have with anyone, and as he walked back to Chris and Jonny's apartment, he began to wonder whether or not he should even tell that what had happened. He thought he should especially not mention the box, because as crazy as it sounded, that box looked way too familiar.

 

 

Cloned

 

 

 

Jonny walked into Will's bedroom where Will said his clone would be.

 

There he saw Will. "Ah, there you are Jonny! Are you ready to meet your clone?"

 

"Am I ever! I have a To-do-List three pages long for him." Jonny said cheerfully, excited that his hard work would finally be done for him.

 

"I'd like to remind you, as with my clone, the intelligence level is reduced a bit."

 

"Well that's good, I don't want him thinking too much."

 

"Uhmmm...Yeah... I might have dialed your's intelligence back a little more than I had mine..."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Will ignored Jonny's question nervously. "Jonny, meet Bitchjonny."

 

"Hi 'onny. You 'ot some stuff you want me to do for yew?" And just like Will's clone, he had an eye that always looked the other way and his hair was sticking up. Except Bitchjonny must have been far dumber than Bitchwill, he hardly use proper English.

 

"OH MY GOD." Jonny was shocked.

 

Will sighed. "Yeah, that's kind of what I said too... You know, I'll be honest with you Jonny, here's what happened; I didn't really want to do the work so... Bitchwill sort of did it..."

 

"Hey Will! How'd the clone turn out?" Bitchwill asked.

 

"Jonny, I can't 'o to ta bathroom by myself. Could you please helps 'e?" Bitchjonny asked. "But I'm weally good at udder stuff!"

 

"Oh..." Bitchwill said as Jonny facepalmed.

 

"I sharpened a pencil in my bum and 'ow I needs a band-aid." Bitchjonny announced.

 

****

 

Jonny sat at the breakfast table, reading the newspaper with a coffee by his side.

 

"Jonny, I 'on't know if you want a babeh doll, but I made chew one." Bitchjonny handed him a deformed baby doll, that Bitchjonny obviously made.

 

"Uhmm... okay, thank you." Jonny picked the doll up and placed it next to his coffee. "Did you wash the car like I asked?"

 

"No, vutt I hit it witt a rock."

 

Jonny sighed. "Alright, thanks."

 

 

 

Well, it's not the killing I thought it would be... And it's short :rolleyes:

 

Deranged

Part 7

 

 

Jonathan.

Fuck you.

You know what? That felt so good, I’m going to write it again.

FUCK YOU.

I don’t know what that incompetent son of yours told you. Whatever it was, whatever made you pay someone to kill me, is not true.

Do you want to know what really happened? Do you want to hear it from a reliable source?

Well, that idiot kid caught us having some fun in the tub, and – with his shitty sense of judgement – he thought I was raping you.

He started having a go at me for ‘stealing your innocence’ or something preposterous like that. Then, he started threatening me with a butcher’s cleaver, so I hit him a little… And then you – only seeing a teeny little part of the fight – decided to throw your ‘true love’ out of the window and out of your life.

He's a fucking dumbass – like father, like son, I guess. Albinism is hereditary; so is cancer… Hell, why not idiocy, too? You're even worse.

Your assassin need not worry about killing me; I’d rather keep my dignity and do the act myself.

This time, I’m the one with the knife in hand. I’m the one who has the power. I’m the one that has control. I’m the winner.

And you can’t do a fucking thing about it.

 

Will scanned through the contents of the letter briefly before printing it out.

 

Within seconds, he was holding a sheet of paper. He pinned it to his shirt, and, sighing, began making the future clear by sinking a knife deep into his heart, which had been broken a long time ago.

 

Goodbye, fucker.

 

 

 

Christmas or Chrismas?

PART ONE

 

"Dad! Dad, come over here and help us with the tree!" Apple exclaimed, tugging at her father's dressing gown. Chris yawned before getting off the kitchen chair and following his young daughter into the living room. Chris looked up at the tree and smiled.

"I love Christmas" he exclaimed, smiling as he hugged his daughter. His son, Moses and his wife Gwyneth joined in the hug and Chris soon began to realise how lucky he was.

"We need to get Christmas dinner sorted out, babe" Gwyneth said, kissing her husband on the cheek.

"Did you just call me babe?" Chris asked, pausing for a moment before laughing out loud.

"What's wrong with that?" Gwyneth asked, putting her hands on her hips and staring into Chris' eyes.

"Uhh, nothing" Chris replied, winking as he picked up Apple and held her in his arms. "I'll go into town in a minute and get dinner!"

"Okay" Gwyneth said, smiling. "I'll stay here with the kids, Moses is going to a birthday party later!"

"Kk" Chris replied, trying to sound cool. He put his daughter down and made his way upstairs to get dressed.

 

Chris emerged from upstairs around ten minutes later to the sound of screams and cries from the living room. Chris sighed before running into the living room.

"What's going on?" Chris exclaimed, his voice husky with authority. Gwyneth looked up at Chris. "Moses has been biting Apple!" she sobbed.

"Moses!" Chris exclaimed. Moses looked up, a mean look in his eyes.

"You have been a really bad boy, and for that, you can't go to the birthday party!" Chris demanded. Moses began to well up in tears before charging at his father and punching and kicking him several times.

"Ahh!" Chris cried out, surprised at the pain his young son was causing him. "Right, you go up to your room right now, you are grounded and are in serious trouble!"

Moses pushed past Chris and ran upstairs, slamming several doors.

"Are you okay, Apple?" Chris asked, wiping away several tears from his daughter.

"I'm fine!" Apple demanded, standing up straight. "I'm going to kill Moses!" she screamed, pushing past Chris and running upstairs. Chris sighed, and walked over to Gwyneth.

"Way to go, Chris! Way to go, I knew when I married you that you would be a useless father!" Gwyneth shouted.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Chris asked. "I've done all I could do, the only other thing I could do would be to kill them!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Gwyneth exclaimed.

"I don't need this! I don't deserve this!" Chris shouted, heading towards the front door.

"Where are you going? Tell me!" Gwyneth demanded.

"Away from here!" Chris replied, slamming the front door. As he walked down the drive towards his car, he could hear more screaming and crying coming from indoors. Chris fell to his knees into the freezing snow, staying there for several minutes before making his way towards his car.

 

Chris walked into the bar, many people stared at him as he walked in.

"Hey, it's that guy from Coldplay" one man said, walking towards Chris, trying to get an autograph. Several other people were taking pictures. Chris was trying to cover up- he wasn't in the mood. Then a woman started to hit on him as he sat at the bar.

"Hello, you are Chris Martin, arn't you?" the woman asked, staring into Chris' eyes. He was loving this sort of attention. The woman was a tall blonde, just Chris' type. Chris looked back into the woman's eyes.

"Yeah, I am" he said, winking.

"I love your music! My favourite song is Viva La Diva!" she exclaimed. Chris thought about correcting her, but he didn't want to sound like an idiot. He simply smiled.

"Do you want a drink?" Chris asked.

"Oooh, yes please!" the woman replied.

"What do you want?" Chris asked.

"Whatever you are having!"

"Two pints of lager please!" Chris said, laughing.