lolercaust
LADIES AND GENTELMEN (well really just Ladies but whatever), I HAVE FOR YOU... THE HALF-WRITTEN CHAPTER 2 OF ICECLE OR HOWEVER YOU SPELL IT
Murdoc woke up late the next afternoon due to an unpleasant churning deep in his stomach, a sort of messenger that he had drunken way too much the previous night and should probably just smoke a joint or two and go back to bed. Blurry-eyed, he turned to the electric alarm clock on the floor by his bed. Red, digital numbers informed the Satanist that it was 2:43 PM, and that if he didn’t get his ass up soon, someone would walk into the Winnebago and force him awake. But he was too damn tired and too sick to care so he rolled over onto his side and found himself face-to-face with the small Japanese guitarist affectionately deemed Noodle. She was still asleep, and looked quite comfortable.
Aaaand, he also noticed, she was stark naked.
So they’d… gone at it? Murdoc glanced back down at the floor and into a small shopping bag he’d been using as a wastebasket. Lying there was a used condom. …. When’s the last time I used a rubber? He continued staring at it a moment before getting up, getting dressed quickly before exiting the ‘Bago, in hopes of avoiding the awkwardness that was almost guaranteed to an almost-40-year-old man after fucking a 14-year-old.
Once out of the camper, he ran a hand through his greasy hair, heading inside with a plan to pilfer two of the best painkillers 2D possessed. After heading into the kitchen, forcing the bottle of prescription pills from the vocalist and downing four, or maybe five of said pills, he sat down at the table across from Russel, who was fucking fat and jolly as he usually was.
“Yeh seen Noods?” 2D asked, more to himself than to anybody else.
The bassist offered only a slight shake of his head, leaning back and letting the pills do their job.
“S’usually up by now…” Stupot continued, playing with a strand of his hair.
“Mebbe the zombies got ‘er?” Murdoc suggested, staring down at the table, still feeling nauseous.
2D’s er, voids went wide as he looked from Murdoc to Russel. “Yeh think tha’s wha ‘appened?”
“Nicalls, stop bein’ a jackass.” The drummer commanded, glaring at him.
“Wha? It coulda ‘appened. You’ve seen ‘ow them zombies can get after a rainstorm.”
“…Noodle got eaten by a zombie.” The vocalist reflected shakily, obviously thinking the worst.
“Eh, Mebbe she jus’ got turned into one. Might see ‘er tonight. Too bad we’ll ‘ave ta kill ‘er.”
2D just stood there, the same horrified expression on his face. Then Noodle walked in, half-asleep and still in whatever it was that she was wearing the previous night before it was discarded onto the trash-strewn floor of the Winne. Suddenly, she found herself attacked by a blue-haired man, rambling on about zombies. At the table, Murdoc was laughing himself into hysteria and Russel was getting up to leave, a defeated look on his face.
Murdoc woke up late the next afternoon due to an unpleasant churning deep in his stomach, a sort of messenger that he had drunken way too much the previous night and should probably just smoke a joint or two and go back to bed. Blurry-eyed, he turned to the electric alarm clock on the floor by his bed. Red, digital numbers informed the Satanist that it was 2:43 PM, and that if he didn’t get his ass up soon, someone would walk into the Winnebago and force him awake. But he was too damn tired and too sick to care so he rolled over onto his side and found himself face-to-face with the small Japanese guitarist affectionately deemed Noodle. She was still asleep, and looked quite comfortable.
Aaaand, he also noticed, she was stark naked.
So they’d… gone at it? Murdoc glanced back down at the floor and into a small shopping bag he’d been using as a wastebasket. Lying there was a used condom. …. When’s the last time I used a rubber? He continued staring at it a moment before getting up, getting dressed quickly before exiting the ‘Bago, in hopes of avoiding the awkwardness that was almost guaranteed to an almost-40-year-old man after fucking a 14-year-old.
Once out of the camper, he ran a hand through his greasy hair, heading inside with a plan to pilfer two of the best painkillers 2D possessed. After heading into the kitchen, forcing the bottle of prescription pills from the vocalist and downing four, or maybe five of said pills, he sat down at the table across from Russel, who was fucking fat and jolly as he usually was.
“Yeh seen Noods?” 2D asked, more to himself than to anybody else.
The bassist offered only a slight shake of his head, leaning back and letting the pills do their job.
“S’usually up by now…” Stupot continued, playing with a strand of his hair.
“Mebbe the zombies got ‘er?” Murdoc suggested, staring down at the table, still feeling nauseous.
2D’s er, voids went wide as he looked from Murdoc to Russel. “Yeh think tha’s wha ‘appened?”
“Nicalls, stop bein’ a jackass.” The drummer commanded, glaring at him.
“Wha? It coulda ‘appened. You’ve seen ‘ow them zombies can get after a rainstorm.”
“…Noodle got eaten by a zombie.” The vocalist reflected shakily, obviously thinking the worst.
“Eh, Mebbe she jus’ got turned into one. Might see ‘er tonight. Too bad we’ll ‘ave ta kill ‘er.”
2D just stood there, the same horrified expression on his face. Then Noodle walked in, half-asleep and still in whatever it was that she was wearing the previous night before it was discarded onto the trash-strewn floor of the Winne. Suddenly, she found herself attacked by a blue-haired man, rambling on about zombies. At the table, Murdoc was laughing himself into hysteria and Russel was getting up to leave, a defeated look on his face.