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spyder1070 posted this on Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:22 am | View user's profileSend private messageReply with quote

(story) ?

I don't know what to call this. It was one of those weird things that came to me one morning and I just jotted it down. It's not finished and more than likely never will be. You can decide for yourself what it is, I don't care really.

For some reason the GU forum is down, so I'll just leave this here. Why? Because I can and not that many people come here anyway.

Who's there?

The receptionist at the front desk of Zombie Flesh Eaters studies the perfectly manicured nail of her middle finger, then blows on it. Glancing up at the glass fronted double door briefly, then taking the emery board and sweeping it around the edge of the next nail. She rounds it off a little more, stopping and checking it's length with the others to be sure that they're still even. The rasping sound she's making echoes softly in the quiet foyer. Adding to the soft hum of the bug zapper above the door and the overall feeling of emptiness. The phone bleeps softly and she lets her eyes drift down to it. Continuing to file, she sighs and considers answering it, but simply can't be bothered. A few more rings then the sound stops. She lets the corner of her mouth flick up into a cool smile, then once again turns all of her attention back to her manicure.

A rather large bug bumbles towards the enticing blue light, striking it and sizzling loudly, disturbing the woman at the desk and forcing her to look up at it. She curls a lip in irritation, listening to the crackling popping sound of the bug being cooked inside it's own exoskeleton. Licking her lips and waiting for the torment to be over so that she can get back to filing her nails. She knits her brows in astonishment when the popping buzz continues. Surprised that it's taking so long and wondering what sort of a bug it was. Planting her elbows on the desk and interlacing her fingers, she continues watching the zapper as though hypnotised by the blue light herself.

So focused on it, she doesn't see the young man approach the door and pull it open. He approaches the desk and waits for her to acknowledge him, dropping the backpack from his shoulder onto the floor by his feet. A few seconds pass and she continues to stare at the crackling device above the door. The young man blinks at her in confusion, then half turns and looks back, wondering what on earth she's staring at. Not seeing anything of significance, his attention is suddenly diverted upwards when he hears a very loud crackle. Suddenly fascinated himself he watches as well. Until finally the hapless insect pops and the torment comes to an end.

“Allo love,” the receptionist says suddenly, catching the young man by surprise and forcing him to quickly turn back to face her. “He isn't here just yet. Running a bit late, but you can wait here if you like. Want a brew while you wait?” Giving her a quick little smile and a nod, he grabs his backpack and wanders over to the small lounge area just beside the front door.

Watching the receptionist walk by him and through a small hallway, 2J sighs and checks his watch. He'd skipped breakfast because he didn't want to be late for this. Now it seems that he could have eaten after all and that slightly annoys him. He lifts his head and wonders if Jenny, the receptionist, will include a biscuit with his beverage. Just something to ease back the edge of the grumbling feeling in his belly and take his mind off just how uncomfortable he feels. Moments later she returns and hands him his drink. She opens a biscuit tin as well and shakes it before him. So he gladly takes a look inside and selects a couple, settling back in his chair and sipping his beverage. Just as Jenny is returning to her seat the door slams open and Jamie appears, looking rather flustered.

“Lock the door Jen. The weirdo's back,” he grunts and sweeps through the small foyer, rapidly pulling off his jacket while making his way down the hall and entering his office. 2J flinches when he slams the door and shoots a confused look over at the receptionist.

“Oh Hell,” Jenny grunts and tosses the biscuit tin down on her desk. Scrambling over to the glass doors and briefly looking through them to the parking spaces out the front. Turning the sign to closed and locking the door, she pulls the blinds down then quickly rushes to draw the others over the windows beside the young man.

“Err who-?” A bang on the door cuts 2J off and he jumps in fright, nearly spilling hot coffee over his legs. Jenny gasps and manages to get the last blind down, hissing at the young man to stay silent and watching the door in case the “weirdo” tries to break in. Hesitantly getting to his feet and moving closer to the woman, 2J watches as well. The tension in his body, mixed with the confusion of not having any clue at all what is going on, making each step a little stiffer and more cautionary. Until they're both standing together listening to someone trying to rattle the door from its hinges.

“It's some nutter who's convinced that he's Murdoc,” Jenny whispers near 2J's ear. “He's been hassling Jamie since the beginning. Reckons that we owe him for using his image and life as a template for the bassist.” The door rattles louder and they quickly move to the desk, ducking down behind it to hide, almost certain that at any minute a rock will come crashing through the glass, followed by a mad man with a Niccals complex.

“I know you're in there Hewlett!” a gravelly voice calls through the door. “I followed you here you devious.... cartoonist!” Oddly enough, it does sound very much like the Gorillaz bassist. However 2J knows that it's quite impossible, given that Murdoc is a cartoon who was voiced by a whole other person. Unless Phil Cornwell has lost his mind? Thinking about that for a few seconds longer, 2J then shakes it off and looks at the phone.

“Um, have you considered dialling nine,nine,nine?” he asks a little blandly, eyeing the woman with a hint of disdain. She turns her head sharply and curls her lip at him, looking equally irritated back at him.

“Of course we have. Plenty of times,” she snarls back. “He's always gone by the time they get here and don't believe us anyway. They think that it's just some weird publicity stunt and said that if we call them again, they'll arrest us.” Mouthing a silent “oh” at that, 2J is startled when there's another loud bang and with a sharp squeal, the receptionist wraps her arms around him, burying his face in her ample cleavage. He sits there perfectly still for a moment, before he taps her arm and mumbles something about suffocating. She blushes and lets him go, then pushes past and crawling on all fours, heads to the hallway.

“I'm not going away this time Hewlett!” the voice calls. Following her to the cartoonist's office, 2J sighs and grumbles softly. He'd hoped that he'd be halfway through the interview and on his way to getting breakfast by now. However with a madman at the door, the chances are good that they'll be here for a while, waiting for him to give up and leave.

“This is ridiculous,” he grumbles, scurrying through the open doorway. “It's probably one of those cosplayers that has taken things way too far.” Shutting the door behind him he scurries over to hide behind the desk with Jamie and Jenny. “I hate those people." The young man adds with a contemptible huff through his nostrils.

All Hail the Purple Cloud of Mystery.


spyder1070 posted this on Mon May 25, 2015 1:07 am | View user's profileSend private messageReply with quote

I've decided to utilise this post for the odd bit of fan-fiction. So....


Waking early in the morning Murdoc opens one of his bloodshot eyes and looks around his dark room. Listening to the odd scratching sounds and growling from the unseen corners; He sighs deeply and closes the eyelid again, grumbling softly about his usual aches and pains. Slipping an arm from under the blanket, he blindly feels around the floor beside the bed for something, wincing uncomfortably when his fingers touch something wet and sticky. Rapidly snatching them back and shaking the gunk from them, he wipes his hand on the corner of the blanket and tries again.

An hour later the grumbling green skinned bassist opens the door of his room and pokes his head out; Taking a quick look about, as if assuring himself that no one is about to pounce on him, before stepping from the room and pulling the door closed behind him. Making his way down the stairs he pauses just a little from the bottom to watch Noodle pulling on a pair of motorbike boots. Pausing momentarily to think he considers saying something, until he notices that in her small struggle, when she leans back, he can see right down the front of her shirt. A sleazy smile creeps across his lips and he moves his head to get a better view. When suddenly a small, very well aimed fist swings back, connecting sharply with his crotch.

“Omph!” squeezing his thighs together and pressing back the tears, he gingerly steps down and around the young woman, carefully making his way past and out of range. “Evil bitch,” he wheezes as he limps away. Hearing the clink of cutlery that is coming from the kitchen as he gets closer, he sucks back the pain in his groin and pulls himself up straight.

“Morning Muds,” Stuart says cheerfully when the younger man sees him walk into the room. The bassist flicks a quick look in his direction, continuing on his way to the cupboard next to the sink.


“What?” he grunts and opens the cupboard door.


“Shh here, have a sausage.” Widening his eyes at that Murdoc stands up slowly and tries not to imagine the reason why the singer has just said that to him.

“What?” he grunts nervously and slowly looks back over his shoulder. Catching sight of a scruffy looking dog happily taking one of Stuarts breakfast sausages from his hand, he realises what has happened and relaxes again. “-the hell is that doing in here!” he quickly adds and points the bottle of rum in his hand at the animal; It lifts its head and wags its tail at him.

“Having breakfast?” the singer answers, slowly leaning down and wrapping his arms protectively around the dog’s neck.

“You can’t keep it, get rid of it,” Murdoc growls and takes his seat at the head of the table.

“Oi, you said I could!” Stuart snaps gruffly, giving him a confident nod of his head. Murdoc flinches and snaps him a look, uncomfortable by the singers new found inner strength.

“That doesn’t sound like me,” he growls softly. “Now why would I go and say a daft thing like that for?”

“You said if you could name him I could,” Stuart responds, giving the dogs back a stroke with his hand and offering the animal another piece of his breakfast. This intrigues the bassist and he tries to remember what had happened next. Not able to recall it he shrugs and instead opens the bottle.

“Did I?”

“Yeah, Jangly Scrotum Monkey the third, or Jangles for short,” Stuart continues and gives the top of the animal’s head a kiss. Murdoc coughs and nearly chokes on the swig of rum that he had just taken, then wipes his lips and tries to keep a straight face.

“Whatever,” he half sniggers and rests his foot on the edge of the table. “If it sh*ts on the floor there will be a price to pay. You understand that right.”


Three days later Stuart steps into the lounge room and catches sight of Murdoc feeding the animal something pink from his hand. Rushing forwards he grabs the dog and tries to stop it from swallowing the offering; but is too late. Panicked he pulls the dog back towards him and grabbing hold of its mouth he prises the animals jaws open and looks down its throat.

“No no no!” he wails in fear and shakes the dog, patting it firmly between the shoulders. “Come on buddy, cough it up. Cough it up for the love of... anything. Please!” The dog backs away but Stuart pulls it back and checks its mouth again. Not seeing the pink object he picks the dog up and holding it upside down starts shaking it again.

“What the buggery are you doing?” Murdoc growls, watching the singer continue with his efforts. “Not that I want you to stop or anything. This is probably the most fun I’ve had since the day I helped you remove one of your wisdom teeth.” Putting the dog down and checking his mouth again, Stuart becomes more desperate and picks it up again, shaking the animal harder.

“What did you give him you arsehole?” he snarls at the bassist. “Come on Jangles, come on.” Catching the double meaning in the last panicked plea Murdoc sneers in delight and licks his lips.

“Not for all the tea in China, but then I’ve never been one to pass up the opportunity to get my nob out,” he says and begins unbuckling his belt, stepping towards them. Stuart sees this and pulls away in fear.

“What the hell?” Suddenly realising what he had said and what Murdoc meant by that he turns the dog around the right way and darts over to the opposite side of the room. “Do not get that out in front of him, he’s traumatised enough.” Snuggling protectively with the animal he slowly makes his way over to the door. Murdoc sneers and stops undoing the top button of his jeans.

“With you bouncing him up and down like that I’m not surprised.”

“You fed him poison, didn’t you you arse!” Stuart accuses with tears welling in his eyes.

“No I didn’t,” Murdoc responds with a shake of his head. “Not poison.” The singer sniffles and tries to recall the shape of the pink object that the dog had taken.

“What then?” he asks while still trying to picture the moment, but not having very much luck in that department. Murdoc looks over at the clock on the wall then makes a few quick calculations in his head. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m trying to bring together physics, biology and time. Now shush, you bother me,” Murdoc answers. “Right, by calculating the time it typically takes for a dog to swallow an object. Then combining it with the time it typically takes for the object to move through the digestive system and intestines, adding the violent shaking factor that you just threw in there for fun. I’m guessing that in about ten minutes you’ll have your answer.” Giving the singer a sniggering grin he turns on his heel and walks from the room, swigging from his rum bottle.

Lying on his bed with the dog happily snoozing next to him, Stuart watches the animal, still certain that the bassist has poisoned him. The dog suddenly lifts his head and whimpers softly, then jumps down and makes his way over to the step. Looking back at the singer it gruffs softly and looks back at the door.

“You need the toilet Jangles?” Stuart smiles and slides from his bed. Just as his feet touch the floor the dog winces and a large pink bubble begins to grow from the dog’s hind quarters. “What the fuh?” Looking back at its rear end the dog’s ears prick up in surprise and it turns to face the singer with a look of worry. Recognising the shape of the pink balloon Stuart grumbles and tells the animal to stay still; Opening his drawer he finds a pair of latex gloves and gingerly removes the pink object and ties off the end.

Walking past the kitchen he hears the soft chuckle of the bassist from behind a newspaper and kicks open the front door.

“Don’t feed condoms to my dog you bast*rd!” he snaps as he steps outside.

“I did warn you about the doggie land mines, didn’t I!” Murdoc mumbles then drops the paper. “Hey, this makes clean up a breeze, you should be thanking me for that, yah selfish moron!” he adds then gives up and goes back to reading the racing guide.


All Hail the Purple Cloud of Mystery.

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