Docnado. (One off)

Noodle is in the kitchen reading a magazine and eating a bowl of cereal. Occasionally switching between popping a spoonful of her breakfast in her mouth and reading the article on the page in front of her, she stops only to look up at the clock to check what time it is. Turning the page and letting her eyes drift over it to see if there is anything interesting to look at. She hears a loud yawn and stops chewing, lifting her head again to look at the open doorway. Taking a quick guess that the yawn belongs to Stuart, only because Murdoc has been choosing to wake later and later in the day, she lets a flickering smile play on her lips when the blue haired older man steps in the room, stretching his arms up towards the ceiling and blindly making his way over to the refrigerator. Her interest wanes quickly and she turns her attention back to the magazine. Not that 2D appears to mind because he hasn't even noticed her yet.

“Bowl... Bowl... Bowl,” Stuart chants as he searches for one. Sleepily lurching on wonky legs to the cupboard and opening the door to look.

“Dishwasher,” Noodle mumbles and pops her spoon into her mouth. This startles him a little and he shuts the door and turns to see who it is.

“Oh hallo,” he grunts then wrinkles his nose in confusion. “We don't have a dishwasher, do we? At least I don't think so,” he adds and looks around the room just in case they do and he simply hadn't noticed it.  

Thinking that perhaps it is in one of the cupboards he opens the one that is closest to his knee. Mumbling in annoyance about being the last person that is told any thing, then shutting the door and opening another while he continues his search. Lifting her bowl to her mouth, she drains the last dribble of milk in then wipes her lips and stands up, moving to the sink and depositing her breakfast things inside with a clunk, then walking back to the table.

“No we don't,” she mumbles and picking up her magazine as she passes, she heads past the older man and walks to the door, pausing for a moment to look back at him. “If you want a bowl however, either you need to purchase one and load it. Or alternatively you could fill the sink with water and suds and do it yourself by hand.” Stuart shut the cupboard door and stands up straight.

“Do it myself?” he grunts.

“The washing up,” Noodle explains then leaves the room. Blinking at the empty doorway it takes a moment or two for her words to register.

“Hang on!” he snarls angrily. “It's Muds turn to-” Seeing that it's pointless complaining to an empty room he stops talking and with an exhausted sigh makes a weak appeal to the ceiling.  

Then he makes his way over to the sink to see just how many dishes have actually made it that far, stopping once to listen to the house in the hopes that Murdoc is on his way to the kitchen. Apart from the usual groans an squeaks of the house moving on it's foundation, he hears nothing, so he continues on. A look in the sink leaves him just as disappointed, when he sees that the only things there are the bowl and cup that Noodle was just using, and a pot from last nights dinner. Having just searched the cupboards for a non-existent dishwasher, he's already seen that they're empty. He checks the cutlery drawer anyway. Finding that it too is empty.

“Which means that two entire dinner sets, a whole drawer of cutlery, twelve cups, two pots-” He checks the pots and pans cupboard quickly then shuts the door. “Yeah, two pots and a frying pan are floating about kind of free range through this house.” Huffing irritably through his nostrils he marches off in search of them.

Starting in the lounge room he looks under the sofa, the first place, aside from the coffee table, that most people put their empty cups and plates to take away later. It's just that in this house, later, hardly ever eventuates. Seeing two coffee mugs he carefully slides them out, doing his best to avoid touching the green mould, that is growing over the top of the small amount of liquid at the bottom of the cup. He sets them down on the coffee table and keeps looking, moving around the room almost methodically, stopping at the desk in the corner of the room and thinking, before he opens the drawer of paper for the printer and finds two plates of mummified spaghetti that are stuck together. With a look of disgust he gingerly takes them out and along with the cups he takes them to the kitchen. Scraping the gunk into the bin while he fills the sink with scalding water. Dropping them in the water, along with half a bottle of detergent, he leaves them to soak and goes off in search of more.

A brief look at the floor outside Noodle's room gives him a bread and butter plate and a soup bowl. Obviously left out there for him so that he wouldn't have to search himself. Next to them is a large plastic tub on which is taped a note that reads “use this”. Realising that it would make it easier, Stuart deposits the plate and bowl inside and carries the tub up the stairs. Trying to slip by Murdoc's door Stuart smiles when he passes without incident. However just as he's about to move further away the door slams open and the older man marches out; Looking first down the stairs then back up the landing, just as 2D is about to creep up the stairs and get away from him, Murdoc grins and strides over to the younger man, grabbing his arm.

“Aww Muds,” Stuart moans as he's dragged back towards the bassist's bedroom door. Feeling resistance Murdoc digs his nails into the flesh of the singers upper arm, determined to keep hold of him at least until he's had his say.

“Shut up, I've had a brilliant idea.”

“But I have to find the dishes,” Stuart moans, not at all interested in the bassist's schemes. Considering how much trouble they'd caused everybody last time and including the fact that they're already in the red as far as finances and housing is concerned. Unless they can pay the money owed and stop the eviction, they may as well classify themselves as financially light and temporarily housed. “or hosed,” the singer mumbles to himself and chuckles. Murdoc stops pulling and turns to look back at him, completely baffled.

“You want to hose down the dishes?” he grunts, then decides he doesn't care and keeps pulling. “The dishes are often kept in this special room. It's called the kitchen. Not that that matters, because it has nothing to do with my brilliant idea.” He suddenly comes to a halt and widens his eyes. Staring straight ahead as if he's just seen something astonishing. Stuart looks cautiously at the man, then over at the wall, searching for whatever it is that has caught the man's attention. Snapping out of it instantly Murdoc returns to dragging Stuart along behind him.

“What did that? Why did you stop then?” the singer asks nervously, hoping that he isn't been dragged towards something awful.

“Shut up, I didn't. Now listen-”

“Yes you did! You stopped right there and stared at the wall, like you saw something horrible,” Stuart insists, resisting him. Digging his nails in harder and pulling against him, Murdoc tries to get him to the stairs, only to have the guy grab the handrail hand dig his feet into the carpet. Turning and grabbing him around the wrist with his other hand, Murdoc pulls harder.

“No. I. Didn't!” he grunts with each pull. “I'm trying to come up with some revenue and you're making it harder. Now, come on!” he adds and deliberately embedding his nails into the younger man's flesh, he pulls one last time and manages to get him free. The clink of the plate and bowl in the plastic box makes them both stop and look silently at it. However the importance of Murdoc's idea snatches his attention away again and taking the box from the singer he tosses it down the stairs and shoves Stuart after it.

“No! The dishes,” 2D yelps and rushes forwards. Catching up to him just before Stuart can look, the bassist grabs him by the back of the neck and moves him on. “Ow... You sod.”

“About my idea-”

“I don't care about your schemes Muds,” Stuart interjects painfully, hesitantly reaching for the clawed hand at his neck, but cringing away with the pain that it's causing him.

“Yes you do, now listen,” Murdoc insists, pulling him to a stop outside the kitchen door. “B grade films.” This surprises 2D and he suddenly stops struggling, momentarily interested in what the man is saying.

“Huh?”

“Everyone knows how bad they can be right.” The ambiguous nodding shrug tells the bassist that he has the younger man's attention and his confidence swells. “The Human Centipede, which oddly enough evokes an eww inspired shrug of intrigue, was interesting enough to warrant an equally ridiculous sequel.” Screwing up his face in disgust Stuart shudders.

“I'm not sure which was worst,” he then remarks and checks the bloody wounds on his arm and wrist.

“My point exactly,” Murdoc states firmly with a shark-like grin. “You saw how bad the first one was and considering its content, the chances were good that the second one would be just as stupid. Still, you chose to watch it.” Considering that for a moment Stuart nods.

“Sure. But that was cause it was one of those disgusting ones what make you look. You can't help yourself, you know?” Trying to work out how to put it better Stuart sucks a fingertip. “A psychological need to be disgusted?” Murdoc smacks his lips in contempt.

“No. More like you're happily disgusted by it. It's the intrigue of what you're looking at that overrides the fear of having to look at it. So you deliberately put yourself into a situation that you know is uncomfortable, because the curious nature of your being is attracted by the subject and idea that is being put to you via the film,” he corrects. Stuart smiles and nods.

“Yeah.... I think?” Suddenly confused again the singer rethinks it. Not in the mood to allow his moment to be hijacked by a debate about disgust and the human reaction to it, Murdoc clears his throat.

“Anyway, I want to take a B grade film and make it worse,” he says. This surprises Stuart so much he's instantly snapped from his musings with a gasp.  

“On purpose?” he grunts gutturally in disbelief. “Is that even possible?” he asks himself.

“Yep,” Murdoc grins and leans his shoulder against the wall, reclining there. “Sharknado.” he drawls grandly. “Another stupid film that some moron decided to make a sequel to-”

“Why aren't there any damn plates!” Russel's voice booms from the kitchen, cutting the bassist off. Stuart widens his eyes at the older man, who narrows his own back at him.

“Don't look at me like that. I hardly ever use the stupid things,” he husks softly. “That's the beauty of having an almost completely liquid diet.” Choosing not to be confronted by the angry drummer, the two men turn and slowly creep back up the stairs. Once they're back in the lounge room, Murdoc gently presses the door closed and turns back to the younger man.

“Wait, don't you need money to make films?” Stuart remarks, suddenly catching on to the downside of trying to make money this way. Needing some time to come up with a good way to knock this question on the head, Murdoc walks over to the lounge and flops down on it. Taking his time to make himself comfortable, by fluffing his pillow then slipping it behind his head, resting his boots on the other arm of the chair and laying back.

“No. Low budget can mean no budget, in some cases,” he then explains. “A handy-cam, a few friends and a whole shit-load of high expectations can help. That's what most of those Indie films are made of and some of them won shitty awards because of it.”

“S'pose,” Stuart sighs and studies the side of his shoe. “But how can you make Sharknado worse?” he adds and begins chewing on his thumbnail nervously.  

“All I need is a camera, you guys, a pencil, a few pieces of paper, maybe a bucket of plastic sharks? I haven't worked out all the details yet, but I definitely will need a crate of rum,” Murdoc yawns and stretches, snuggling down deeper into the lounge. As if suddenly remembering something he begins searching through his pockets.

“I kind of get the plastic sharks, but what's the pencil and paper for?” Stuart grunts incredulously.

“The pencil is to draw the stupid tornado and the paper is what it'll be drawn on. Look, lets just say I'd turn the camera towards the city street. You call out “oh no, it's a freak tornado!”, then I take the stupid cut out of a tornado, on a stick, and waggle it in front of the camera. Then you'll just run around like a nob, screaming and tossing random plastic sharks all over the place. This shit makes itself really,” the bassist shrugs and closes his eyes. “By the way, here's the sample shark.” Tossing the toy blindly in 2D's direction, Murdoc settles down as if about to go to sleep.

Catching the toy 2D stares into its dead painted eye and thinks about what the bassist just said. Something tells Stuart that if the guy is serious about what he's saying, then there's a good chance that he's finally lost the plot and is ready to be committed to the nearest asylum. Getting him there will be hard, but not impossible. Just convince him that there's free booze and loose naked women inside, he may even willingly commit himself. Letting out a slow tired breath 2D gently squeezes the shark.

“Pee, eep!” Widening his eyes in amazement, he looks down at the plastic toy in utter disbelief.

“It squeaks?” he growls coldly.

“Yes yes. It's stupid I know. I couldn't find one that didn't, but that's okay I'll operate later,” the bassist says with a throaty snigger then waves it off. Still not believing what he heard 2D lifts the toy toy his eye-line and staring down it's throat he squeezes it again, slowly. It lets out a long high pitch squeak and he shakes his head at it.

“I don't think they're suppose to squeak Muds,” he mumbles and looks down at the older man.

“How would you know? When was the last time you squashed a shark?” the bassist challenges and annoyed he waves him away. Not wanting to let the subject go just yet, Stuart ignores this.

“I'm just saying that a squeaky shark don't seem that scary to me, that's all.” Suddenly the man on the lounge seems to explode in a flash of movement, turning and grabbing his collar then yanking his face down towards him, so quickly in fact, that it takes the singer completely by surprise.

“Trust me Faceache. You, me and that shark alone in a dark room together for two minutes. You'd be scared,” he gutturally growls with a psychotic look of madness in his face. Unable to speak, breathe or do anything else but stare into those mad eyes, Stuart feels his bowel tighten and a small rumble work its way through his stomach. Fortunately Murdoc lets him go and slides back down to his spot on the lounge. Taking the moment to leave the singer quickly does so, gently pulling the door half closed behind him before he races up the stairs.

“Wouldn't need the bloody shark. Just the idea of being alone in a dark room with that perv is scary enough,” he grumbles and races into his bathroom.

----

Noodle and Russel sit silently at the table across from the bassist, staring open mouthed at him. He's just finished highlighting his idea at them and they can't quite believe they just heard what they think they did. However the confident way that he's rocking back and forth on the back legs of of his chair suggests that they may have. In a way they can see that he's not overly concerned with their answer. Right now he appears so confident that his plan is a good one, whatever they say or feel about it is irrelevant to him right now. Moments later Noodle explodes in a gale of laughter that is so powerful that she falls from her chair. Shocked by this uncharacteristic behaviour, all three men widen their eyes and slowly, almost cautiously, lean forwards and down, peering at her as she holds her aching sides, rocking back and forth under the table, still laughing loudly at the bassist's idea.

“You finally did it man,” Russel growls softly, glaring at Murdoc from under the table. The bassist sits up straight again and watches those eyes rise up and continue blazing at him from across the table.

“What?” he grunts at him, insulted by the suggestion that he's done something wrong. Certain that whatever it is, he's damned if he's going to take the blame for it.

“You broke her mind,” Russel finishes. Rolling his eyes the bassist slumps in his chair.

“Oh fuck off Fatso. Every time she farts you blame me for breaking her,” he growls in exasperation. “She was broken long before we got here,” he adds and popping the cigarette from behind his ear into his mouth he lights it.

“Maybe it was the whale?” Stuart suggests as he rolls the hem of his t-shirt between his fingers. The silence that follows this makes his look up and seeing the stunned look on Russel and Murdoc's face, followed by the hiccuping giggle from under the table, makes him realise that he'd said that out loud. “I um... Never mind. I need a drink,” he grunts and slides from his chair, searching the cupboards for a glass.

With Noodle still giggling under the table the bassist begins to think that perhaps he'd been a touch ambitious. Taking what he'd said to Stuart yesterday into consideration, he doesn't really need the drummer and the Tsunami under the table to make his idea work. All he needs is what he'd said before and the rest he can just make up as they go along. He'd done that before and it had worked. Why not let it work for him again? Besides which, if he let her get involved then she'd want to change it into one of those arty Japanese films with flying Ninjas and a man dressed in a badly made rubber Godzilla suit. As though a small explosion has gone off in the centre of his mind Murdoc widens his eyes and reaches a clawed hand under the table, seeking the young woman out.

“C'mere you,” he growls and is surprised when a small set of teeth clamp down hard into the meaty part of his hand. “Fucking ow!” he spits and snatches his hand back.

“What?” Stuart yelps and looks under the table.

“Bitch bit me!” Murdoc hisses and rubs his hand.

“Stop groping at her then man,” Russel sneers and urges the young woman back out and into her chair. She grins at the bassist almost evilly, but he's once again lost in the depths of his idea.

“As I was saying, I know we looked at the whole film thing before and that it didn't work out so great. The difference is that this time I'll be in charge of directing and that. So I'll choose the film and how it comes together.” Russel purses his lips at him then clicks his tongue.

“Yeah but seriously man, Sharknado?” he mumbles at him. Weak with the effort of trying to get, what seemed to him to be a simple enough idea, off the ground with them. Murdoc limply slides down his chair and off onto the floor, as though his bones have evaporated and he no longer has the ability to sit upright.

“Hells Bells,” he squeaks out of sight of them all. A green hand slaps down on the surface of the table and he yanks his head up to glare at him. “When I said Sharknado. I didn't necessarily mean that it would be Sharknado. More that it would be in the same vein as Sharknado.” Stuart lifts his hands and begins counting the number of times that Murdoc says the title. “Sharknado was merely a reference to the kind of film I was thinking of. I could have easily said Crocnado, Lizardnado, Hamster-fucking-nado. Hell, at this point Pussynado is looking fairly good,” the bassist snarls angrily, gripping the edges of the table so tightly in his hands that his knuckles click.

“Pussynaod?” Stuart asks, putting his hand back down. “How does that work?”

“A freak tornado makes it's way down a prostitute riddled alley, now shut up,” Murdoc snaps viciously, with his eyes blazing as if the pupils are on fire.

“Yeah, but that would only be scary for the girls,” Stuart reasons. “How's it suppose to scare everyone else? Apart from it being a tornado and that.” Knowing it's a waste of time but angry enough to respond, Murdoc pulls himself closer, staring straight into 2D's eyes.

“They all have the clap and that attracts a flock of rabid seagulls. Now will you shut up?” he gutturally hisses, almost seeming to be on the brink of foaming at the mouth. Stuart pulls away but for some reason is unable to stop himself from giving the bassist that one final push.

“I suppose if they have rabies then yeah that's scary. But why not just have the seagulls? You could call it Gullnado then.” Murdoc slowly drags his nails over the surface of the table, gouging huge furrows in the wood as they dig through it.

“Or maybe throw in a bucket of angry weasels?” he squeaks, doing all that he can to hold it together.

“Yeah!” Stuart says brightly with a huge grin on his face, and is promptly punched in the mouth and knocked from his chair. Noodle tips sideways to look at the twitching singer on the floor, then she grins and sits back up straight again, grinning at the fuming bassist that is huffing and puffing angrily at her and Russel. He almost looks as though he's daring them to do or say something about that. Nothing happens and he sucks one huge deep breath, holding it then slowly letting it out again as he eases his temper back down.

“I think I just remembered the exact reason why we told those movie guys to fuck off,” he growls and re-takes his seat. Russel chuckles into his fist and sits back in his chair.

“I was wondering how long that would take,” he says and they all agree once again not to get involved with the industry.

THE END