we can push out, sell out, die out
Matt was sitting in the rec room, minding his own business. Isn't that the way it always goes? Just minding your own business was when the worst shit always went down, wasn't it?
In this case, Matt was sprawled out across one of the couches, feet propped up on the arm of the couch as he flipped through a terribly old issue of Wired magazine, laughing and offering his own unasked for commentary on the articles under his breath. Pretty hilarious stuff, these out of date computer magazines.
Almost unnoticed by Matt at first was the jukebox's own commentary by way of music in the background. It seemed like it was playing generic hard rock, the way it usually did when Matt was around (except for the times it wanted to be a dick about things, in which case it would play goddamn CCR songs over and over again).
But then the song switched over to something new, and it caught Matt's attention, precisely because it wasn't new to him.
If you want more of this
We can push out, sell out, die out
So you'll shut up
And stay sleeping
With my screaming in your itching ears
I'm so sick
Huh. He knew that song. The singer was a kind of hot chick, in that screamo-wannabe-gothy sort of way.
But, oh, wait.
Matt sat up, looking at the jukebox. He knew that song, yeah -- and the last time he heard it was right before his apartment got blown up.
"Oh, great," Matt said with a dramatic sigh. He rolled the magazine up, waving it threateningly at the jukebox. "Do you really need to remind me of that? Come on, you piece of crap."
Really now. It had been so long ago, really, the whole adventure he'd found himself sucked into before he wound up on the island. But all because it was a long time ago, especially in internet years, didn't mean that Matt wanted to be reminded of it.
The jukebox ignored Matt and kept playing the song.
"Seriously, knock it off," Matt said, but the jukebox kept on playing. With a groan, Matt rolled his eyes and pitched the magazine at the jukebox. He just barely missed the face of the jukebox, and instead the magazine unfurled and skidded across the top of the jukebox, hitting against a shiny metal something that Matt could have sworn wasn't there a minute ago.
The shiny metal something tipped over and rolled precariously on top of the jukebox, and Matt for some reason had a very strong sense of deja-vu. The metal thing kept rolling and fell to the ground with a dull thud.
"Oh, great, now someone's gonna think I'm breaking their shit," Matt grumbled, pushing himself off of the couch to go pick up whatever he'd knocked over. As he crouched to the ground, though, he realized the shiny thing wasn't just any shiny thing. It was a shiny Terminator figurine. His shiny Terminator figurine, to be precise.
"What the..." Matt lifted it up, turning it around in his hands. "How'd you get here?" Maybe it wasn't for him. Maybe it was for Austin or something. But it sure as hell looked like his figurine from home, even though it didn't actually belong here.
Matt looked over his shoulder, trying to see if anyone else was around to claim it. "Man, I sure wish you hadn't gotten blown up with the rest of my stuff," he said to the figurine.
Oh, if only he knew.
[ the figurine was responsible in its own way for blowing up matt's apartment (see around 4:15-4:40). the song playing is i'm so sick, by flyleaf. ]
In this case, Matt was sprawled out across one of the couches, feet propped up on the arm of the couch as he flipped through a terribly old issue of Wired magazine, laughing and offering his own unasked for commentary on the articles under his breath. Pretty hilarious stuff, these out of date computer magazines.
Almost unnoticed by Matt at first was the jukebox's own commentary by way of music in the background. It seemed like it was playing generic hard rock, the way it usually did when Matt was around (except for the times it wanted to be a dick about things, in which case it would play goddamn CCR songs over and over again).
But then the song switched over to something new, and it caught Matt's attention, precisely because it wasn't new to him.
If you want more of this
We can push out, sell out, die out
So you'll shut up
And stay sleeping
With my screaming in your itching ears
I'm so sick
Huh. He knew that song. The singer was a kind of hot chick, in that screamo-wannabe-gothy sort of way.
But, oh, wait.
Matt sat up, looking at the jukebox. He knew that song, yeah -- and the last time he heard it was right before his apartment got blown up.
"Oh, great," Matt said with a dramatic sigh. He rolled the magazine up, waving it threateningly at the jukebox. "Do you really need to remind me of that? Come on, you piece of crap."
Really now. It had been so long ago, really, the whole adventure he'd found himself sucked into before he wound up on the island. But all because it was a long time ago, especially in internet years, didn't mean that Matt wanted to be reminded of it.
The jukebox ignored Matt and kept playing the song.
"Seriously, knock it off," Matt said, but the jukebox kept on playing. With a groan, Matt rolled his eyes and pitched the magazine at the jukebox. He just barely missed the face of the jukebox, and instead the magazine unfurled and skidded across the top of the jukebox, hitting against a shiny metal something that Matt could have sworn wasn't there a minute ago.
The shiny metal something tipped over and rolled precariously on top of the jukebox, and Matt for some reason had a very strong sense of deja-vu. The metal thing kept rolling and fell to the ground with a dull thud.
"Oh, great, now someone's gonna think I'm breaking their shit," Matt grumbled, pushing himself off of the couch to go pick up whatever he'd knocked over. As he crouched to the ground, though, he realized the shiny thing wasn't just any shiny thing. It was a shiny Terminator figurine. His shiny Terminator figurine, to be precise.
"What the..." Matt lifted it up, turning it around in his hands. "How'd you get here?" Maybe it wasn't for him. Maybe it was for Austin or something. But it sure as hell looked like his figurine from home, even though it didn't actually belong here.
Matt looked over his shoulder, trying to see if anyone else was around to claim it. "Man, I sure wish you hadn't gotten blown up with the rest of my stuff," he said to the figurine.
Oh, if only he knew.
[ the figurine was responsible in its own way for blowing up matt's apartment (see around 4:15-4:40). the song playing is i'm so sick, by flyleaf. ]