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Disposable people

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1

A SMALL TOWN

Heather Treese  & Brian Osborn
http://funkyimg.com/i/2mkLm.gif http://funkyimg.com/i/2mkLn.gif

There is a small town where no one remembers anything before the morning of the same day. But what would you do if I told you I know you?

[NIC]Heather Treese [/NIC] [STA]as perfect[/STA] [AVA]http://funkyimg.com/i/2mkMB.gif[/AVA] [SGN]-[/SGN]

Отредактировано Chloe Thompson (2016-12-22 17:43:12)

+2

2

I'm not man enough to be human
But I'm trying to fit in
And I'm learning to fake it

Everyday I wake up at 7 in the morning, look out of the window and check my pillow. Every morning is supposed to be different for me and for all of us living here in the S. town but I know something that makes me an outcast. I hide it like some sort of forbidden knowledge and I regret that I'm too scared to share it with someone.
I have a diary - a small workbook that I keep under the pillow and where I store all my days and nights, packed in rows of a perfect handwriting. I write them at daytime when no one sees me because I'm not sure if this thing is even allowed. I write simple and short sentences because very often I don't have time to write or feel too scared - like that teenage boy who is afraid to get busted in front of his girlfriends' window.
It's stupid and makes no sense because everyday I have a new job or maybe I can even have a new family. I always do my best to wake up at the house which I call "home". I try to wear the same clothes everyday and I describe everything in details in my journal. I can say that I'm not even sure who I am anymore but I know that my name is Heather - at least it's what is said in my ID. I've never seen my mum, my dad or real friends. I guess I don't have children because I hate them and have never been married because there is still no ring on my finger. Everything happens for a reason and I'm willing to know what this all is about.
That day I woke up earlier, it was 6 and the chilly wind from the street was blowing off the curtains on the window. I was lying in bed with my head on a warm shoulder thinking - who was this guy? Do I know him? Is it possible that we're somehow connected? He had a dark hair and beautiful lips but they were all covered in something red. With a closer look I realized that it was my lipstick all over his mouth. What a shame! I couldn't have done that to someone I barely know, eww. I've always thought of myself as a respectable women, not some street whore. Have you ever seen a whore who dresses up as classy as I am?
- Oh my God! - my scream is too loud maybe, because I've just realized I'm sitting in bed with no sings of visible lingerie on me. There is no bra, no panties - nothing at all which is kinda frustrating. This is not who I am and this is not my behavioral pattern. I need to find out who this guy is and maybe read something about him in my journal as soon as he leaves my home. But, according to the etiquette and manners I can't just throw him away without suggesting a good cup of coffee.
- Hey, do you prefer coffee or tea? - I'm taking the gown from the floor (why would I throw this on the floor, it's an ugly thing to do?) and covering what is left of my modesty. Well, at least he is handsome which means I enjoyed it last night.
- You can follow me to the kitchen, - as soon as I try to make a simple move towards the holy grail of coffee my head is being torn apart. The pain is so annoying and unbearable that I close my eyes and use a couple of seconds to breath in. I'm not a doctor but maybe this pain is somehow related to last night's events? Or to that big (I'd say even giant) bottle of whiskey which is frisky peeking out from a pile of clothes lying on the floor. I had no idea I'm capable of drinking that much and hopefully I wasn't doing it alone.
- I'll put on a kettle, - I'm heading to the kitchen with all the grace I have left. My wonderful kitchen is in ruins which are looking like a big pizza, weird boxes and charming white powder all over my mirror. I have no idea what went wrong with me so I'm pressing the button on the kettle to let the water boil and then I sit on the table. Because what could be worse than that?
[NIC]Heather Treese [/NIC] [STA]as perfect[/STA] [AVA]http://funkyimg.com/i/2mkMB.gif[/AVA] [SGN]-[/SGN]
[LZ1]HEATHER TREESE, unknown y.o.
profession: none;
relations: someone
[/LZ1]

Отредактировано Chloe Thompson (2016-12-22 23:29:01)

+6

3

Good morning, world! Good morning, fucked up America! Good morning, God-knows-what state! Good morning, city-in-the-middle-of-nowhere! No memories, no regrets, no past, no future. Amen! What a time to be alive!
That was just perfect enough for Brian. Brian, who had no idea about who he was or what he was doing and, honestly, couldn't care less. How do you care about stuff like that living in a world full of fake ideas? The world where people formed one-day friendships just like one-night sexual adventures? Can you really call someone a friend if you know they'll be gone the following day? Can you pretend you love the girl you're fucking if you know that tomorrow she'll be fucking the one she wakes up with, and it's probably not gonna be you? The world is full of lies, people are fake, nothing is true and nothing remains. So enjoy the moment - it's the best option you may choose in these circumstances, unless you're a disgusting liar like everyone else.
That's what Brian thought and that's how Brian lived. He sure loved to live on edge, taking all the risks to the full, being exactly who he wanted to be at the exact moment. No one called him a friend - usually a freak instead, and oh how Brian enjoyed it! He was addicted to heavy drugs - at least that's what he figured every morning when he woke up with cocaine traces on his face; the drugs must have messed up his mind and personality a little, or probably that was some undiagnosed mental disoder, but Brian definetely was a freak and loved every minute of being such. When tomorrow never truly comes, who cares about today? Do what you have to, there's nothing to lose. Nothing to lose. Total freedom, Chuck Palahniuk-style.
Brian was dreaming of space stars and cigarettes, when a female voice came straight to his mind, ruining the dream and tearing the man back into reality. Another day faded away, another dawn brought a new beginning. A completely blank page to start.
- Wha... what? - the man hesitated before opening his eyes. He had a contact lens in the right one - or was it the left one? He always had trouble telling which is which, - and the room seemed a bit blurred. It took him a few blinks to start seeing normally. His lips felt dry, too. He licked them, and a taste of lipstick felt delicious - the girl's lipstick most likely, probably mixed with his own.
- Oh well, I prefer cocaine and I'd sure love a cup of some, but if you don't have that, a cup of coffee would be nice, too, thank you, - he smiled, looking at the unknown girl. She was very beautiful, and few girls can be called beautiful in the morning. Perfect mix of dark hair and white skin, amazing body curves - and woah, she was naked. Did they have sex? Now Brian regretted losing such awesome memories.
- Hey, whiskey, - he spotted a bottle, - fun night it was, huh? Too bad it's almost empty.
The girl winced with pain, and Brian actually felt sorry for her - must be quite a headache. Just on the contrary, he felt great. His immune system was used to chemical substances.
He followed the generous offer and entered the kitchen, desperately trying to find his clothes on the way.
- Ah! There we go, - black jeans and a jacket with spikes and chains were lying on the table, and... now that was a surprise. A good one.
- So you do have some cocaine, - Brian smiled and came to the table where the gracious lady was now sitting, - you do know how to make your guest feel comfortable, - he was positively sure the house belonged to her. It was too bright and neat to be his.
- Excuse me, ma'am, - he smiled again, trying to pull the clothes free, - you're sitting on my jeans.
In the lights of the kitchen the girl looked even more beautiful. Totally charming. She wasn't just a cheap whore from the streets, that's for sure. The way she moved, the way she looked - she was gorgeous. Like a living goddes or a living doll, or both.
Brian finally started to get dressed. His naked body, in some kind of repealing contrast, was sickly pale, thin and covered in tatooes, bruises and scars.
- Is there any chance we are married? - he casually asked, watching the girl pouring hot water into cups, - Because honestly, I would give my mind to have a wife like you. Oh wait, I've already lost all my mind, sorry.
He laughed, then stopped laughing.
- No, I'm actually serious. Because I have a ring on my finger and so do you. Nevermind the cocaine, by the way - I'll sniff it off right after the breakfast.
He put a finger into white powder, then licked it.
- Yumm... better than sugar. And what's your name, in case we're really married?
Good old freakingly freakish Brian, being himself, being alive, having the best morning ever.
[NIC]Brian Osborne[/NIC] [STA]sick in the head[/STA] [AVA]http://se.uploads.ru/cJkDY.gif[/AVA] [SGN]http://sf.uploads.ru/4PUqC.gif
[/SGN]
[LZ1]БРАЙАН ОСБОРН, ??? y.o.
profession: unknown
relations: unknown
[/LZ1]

+6

4

Do you know any normal, adequate person who would suggest a cup of cocaine as his usual breakfast? Well, I'd said that neither do I but now I do. And this man is standing right in front of me, completely naked and I can't do anything but looking at him and thinking about that night. It's a pity that my brain structure is so simple that I'm unable to transfer my thoughts directly into the written form of my journal. It would have been much more convenient - at least I would have saved me a ton of time I usually spend on writing. And also I wouldn't feel weird with him. What is his name anyway?
- I guess, it'll be coffee then, - I'm feeling naked right now. This man, adorable freak of some kind, is giving that look which I'm not quite accustomed to receive. He is looking at me and want him to close his eyes, I want to yell at him, I want him out of my house but at the same time I feel like we're bonded deep inside each other - like that ivy which is covering the most of my backyard. I want him to stop but at the same time I want him to be there for me - always be there, every other morning, because for a second I had a weird thought that maybe we'll remember each other. But I'm not quite sure he has the same in mind - maybe we'll part today for good and will never see each other or we'll be lucky to meet at our early 80's at the same spot - here, in my kitchen.
- Well, I do now, - he said that this is my cocaine but I'm quite sure I've never done drugs in my whole life. Maybe something changed last night? I still hope that my journal is safe and sound as my mind right now is flying away from me like the bird from her nest. Oh, stop - it's not only my mind, it's also the floor but it's happening because I'm sitting on his jeans. Yeah, classy me.
- Sorry, - the water is boiling so I'd better get from the table and start making some kind of breakfast. I see that the guy is okay with drugs as his food but I prefer something more exquisite. Or maybe a simple omelet with bacon, it depends on the mood.
- Excuse me? - my brows are gonna marry my hair right now because he has just told something really weird. How on earth am I gonna marry someone that strange, vulgar and tempting at the same time? Mind your manners, Heather. The guy might be joking. Or he might be not.
- We all are mad here so I guess there might be a small probability of this social intercourse between us, - I've just poured the coffee into the cups trying my best to hide shaking hands. It's crazy, right? It's so not me and I can't believe I've done such thing. But at the same time I'm looking at that guy and I realize that maybe this was a one-day decision and a one-night stand, so what? Who cares? We live in a small town called S. which cannot be found on any of existing maps - believe me, I tried. We wake up everyday with our memories vanished so maybe this is the clue, this is a simple solution to all of us - just enjoy the moment, live the life to its fullest potential?
- Well, maybe it's true. The best thing about this life is that you can invent anything even if yesterday you had a wife, two kids and a full-time job as a cashier, - I can't imagine him being a cashier but as we all know fantasy has no boundaries.
I'm gonna put the bread into a toaster, smile and pretend that everything is fine although I'm seriously afraid to see my house in ruins again. Everything here was for a reason, every object has its place and now it's all gone because of one person. Or maybe I'm wrong again - like that time when I found a baby? Or was it even a baby or a dog - I'm not sure?
- Toast, bacon, eggs? - I look at you and I don't understand a thing. You know, honey, the answer is right there - under the silk pillow in my bedroom because no matter how reckless I am I'll never let myself fall behind writing in my journal. I'm so sorry for you and for me because I want this secret to be someone else's but I'm not sure if I can trust you. Maybe, if I get enough proof, I'll tell you about it.
- My name is Heather, and yours? - a simple question. I hope I'll never forget this day. I want to freeze it because right now I feel free and capable of great things. Maybe this guy will be my partner in crime? Maybe we'll able to understand what is going on here and why ar we trapped inside our own brain? But for now the only thing I want from him and from me is to have breakfast together - as normal married people do.
[NIC]Heather Treese [/NIC] [STA]as perfect[/STA] [AVA]http://funkyimg.com/i/2mkMB.gif[/AVA] [SGN]-[/SGN]
[LZ1]HEATHER TREESE, unknown y.o.
profession: none;
relations: someone
[/LZ1]

Отредактировано Chloe Thompson (2016-12-25 17:23:46)

+4

5

"We are all mad here", said the girl. Just like in Lewis Carroll's famous Wonderland. We are all mad here! Welcome to America, where all your dreams come true! Even if you don't have any dreams anymore.
Brian loved how casual the girl was about the whole marriage thing. At least she tried to look casual. What a sweet little pretender.
-O-oh, baby, this life is amazing, - he smiled in a wide crazy Joker-style smile, - and so are you. Screw the real world, I'm the happiest goddamned husband on the planet!
And he meant it. The lady was irresistably charming, extraordinary sexy and adorably nice; few girls would be glad to wake up sharing their bed with someone like Brian, yet she poured him some coffee instead of kicking him out. A graceful divine creation.
- Give me whatever you have there, darling. I'm not choosy, - if the girl was an angel, he was a creepy alien. Too weird for this kitchen - which was in a mess, and most likely that's his fault - and too weird for this world. He did it all the time: wherever he went, everything turned in chaos. He was like a tornado, crushed in people's lives, turning them upside down. Even his voice sounded strange. A very special voice, the one you will never forget if you hear it once.
- Heather... - Brian liked the way this name tasted on the tip of his tongue. - That's a beautiful one. Mine is boring. It should be Crazy MacFreak, but it's just Brian.
The most interesting part about Brian's boring name was the fact that he had no idea how on earth he knew this and where the hell this name even came from. He'd never seen his ID and wondered whether he had one at all.
- Isn't it inriguing, - he carelessly dropped his jacket on the floor and took a cup of coffee, watching Heather with his eyes, freakingly different thanks to the contact lens, - how things pop in and out of our heads? You ever questioned where it all goes?
One minute ago Brian didn't give a shit about this "intrigue", and now he was all thinking and wondering. This man could change his whole personality faster than you blink.
- And, more importantly, why it all even happens? - he smiled, as if what he was saying sounded funny. - Must be for a reason, right?
And probably for a good one. But isn't it the pure freedom - to be stripped of all attachments, to always forget the past, to never have the future?
- If you could magically remember your whole life right now, do you think you would like it? - Brian was looking straight into Heather's eyes. - Do you think it was shiny and glamourous, like this ring? - he waved his hand, the wedding ring glittering in the lights. - Or lonely and sad, like my jacket on the floor?
He casually took a sip of coffee and said:
- I don't think I want to know my past. I doubt it was very happy - I mean, I'm a fucked-up drug-addicted psycho, - he laughed, but then he suddenly let go of the coffee cup and caught the girl's hand, - but I do know for sure that I want to remember the future. I want to remember you and everything we do together, and I'm serious - if I can be serious at all. Let's go to Las Vegas and have the craziest honeymoon ever. Let's go to Florida and have a beach holiday if that suits you better.
And serious he was. He didn't care much about his life, but he really wanted to learn everything about Heather. How old was she? How did she meet him? What did she like and what was she afraid of? He wanted to keep this knowledge in his ruined mind and fuck the morning, fuck the memory loss, fuck them all!
[NIC]Brian Osborne[/NIC] [STA]sick in the head[/STA] [AVA]http://se.uploads.ru/cJkDY.gif[/AVA] [SGN]http://sf.uploads.ru/4PUqC.gif
[/SGN]
[LZ1]БРАЙАН ОСБОРН, ??? y.o.
profession: unknown
relations: unknown
[/LZ1]

+2

6

- Thank you, - the compliment from that guy was sweet and touching so I couldn't resist granting him with a kind smile. Well, it's not his fault that I'm not in the mood or that I'm not into the whole cocaine morning thing. However, for a moment I've felt something weird - as if I was enjoying the strange situation and my unusual behavior. This is the nature of the people - we tend to survive in any circumstances given. And sometimes we try to make the best of it like right now, for example.
He has said that he isn't choosy but I can't agree - not every ordinary men would prefer to have a cup of cocaine first thing in the morning instead of a simple coffee or strong tea. But this is not my place to judge, so I head to the fridge to get the eggs. Surprisingly, there are no dead body or someone's missing parts. Lucky us, yay.
- Your's just fine, Brian. Nice to meet you, - I'm smiling again. Why this guy is so sweet although if I met him on the street, I'd have freaked out because of his extravagant look. But now I'm looking at the guy and hell yes, I'm totally in love with him and the idea of being his wife - even if this marriage will last only for a day. On the bright side, I can always make some notes in my journal so I'll never forget him. Brian guy, in whose name B stands for brutal, R for risky, I for me, A for adventurous and N for naughty because I don't believe Santa'd put him on a "Nice" list.
- Everyone is asking questions about this phenomena fist thing in the morning, I guess. I'm not asking, I've already had my answers, - I'm being naive but what is the point of life if there is no risk? And Brian seems nice and rebellious at the same time so I don't think he'll ever sell me out. By the way, he is also eager to find the truth, am I right?
- Everything happens for a reason, - I'm making an omelet with tomatoes so I need then to be chopped into small pieces. Cooking is a kinda relaxing thing to do when you're nervous. I don't feel nervous now - if Brian is my husband, it means I'm not alone anymore. And maybe I do have a chance finally to get away from S. city as far as we could go.
- My life is shiny and glamorous but it's kinda lonely, I guess. Or it had been lonely - before you turned up at my house with whiskey and cocaine. The answers are still to be found, - I'm not smiling, I'm just looking into his eyes truing not to sink in them. Like two big and dark oceans with a glimpse of something mischievous inside them, trapped till the night. The night is the best time of the day because i doesn't judge you and your actions. Night is a companion to many people - to murderers and to those who seek trouble. I'm still wondering what was I seeking last night? Did I find it? Was it Brian or not?
He is holding my hand and saying all these lovely words that every girl would want to hear from a guy. Hey, Brian, are you sure of what you wish for?
- I know a method to remember everything about us and make a future. It's kinda strange and I'm not sure it's even allowed but I keep a journal. Everyday I write something in it - about people I've seen and things that I've done. It's like a small imprint of my everyday life. I guess, there is a special room for you in it, so I'll make sure we'll never forget who we are, - his hand is warm and mine is shaking a bit because right now I'm sharing with him something I've never shared with any living person. I may sound too practical but inside I'm a hopeless romantic and his words about travelling to Vegas or Florida (like they do exist, right?) are melting my heart.
- Brian, we need to run away from this cursed place because I guess it's the city to blame for our memory loss, - I've just said it quietly and room stayed silent for a moment. Then the bred popped out from the toaster breaking the silence. I quivered from a loud noise, squeezing his hand as if he was trying to flee from me. No, my dear, you're not going anywhere any time soon.
[NIC]Heather Treese [/NIC] [STA]as perfect[/STA] [AVA]http://funkyimg.com/i/2mkMB.gif[/AVA] [SGN]-[/SGN]
[LZ1]HEATHER TREESE, unknown y.o.
profession: none;
relations: someone
[/LZ1]

+2

7

Luckily, Heather happened to be a lovely caring wife, because the breakfast she was cooking seemed to be much more delicious and surely much healthier than a cocaine sandwich. Brian watched the way she was moving, the curves of her perfect body, the waves of her shiny hair, the features of her dolly-like face. How on earth did they meet? How could such a star fall from her own sky - and straight into the Hell's flame that Brian represented? So it's true then, that good girls love bad boys, huh? What about him? Did he really propose to her? Did she say the actual "yes"? Did it all take just one day to happen? Oh well, that was not surprising, Brian was crazy enough to do that, but Heather - was she also crazy like him or was she trying to be? There was some hidden potential, that's for sure. What a nice couple of freaks they were! The wedding photos must've been the best ones in the whole USA, if they ever existed, of course.
- Holy Hell, - Brian slowly said, smiling like a happy creepy clown. He was impressed by the simple plan his darling had come up with. A journal! It was so easy, yet it never occured to him. Writing a journal, keeping a diary could be a great and reliable way to remember things and have at least some idea what is going on in your life - how come he never thought of it himself? Not that he was a good thinker anyway, but still...
- Honey, you're on fire! - he clapped his hands together. - You're a smart pretty thing! Just a glimpse on the page, and we'll learn who we are - or who we were yesterday. Just a few lines on the next page, and we'll start the beginning of who we'll become tomorrow. 
Sounds a bit dramatic, but Brian had some drama queen-ish tendences, alright. He wouldn't be himself if he didn't.
Now Heather was talking about running away, and the explanation she offered made even Brian think hard.
The city is to blame for our memory loss... It was like a quote from a Hollywood shitty action movie, yet it could be real - very real. Everyone knows that real world is more surreal than all fantasy books combined, and the man, who was used to experiencing different kinds of realities under drugs influence, believed that what Heather suggested was possible. He didn't have a better theory, so...
- Then Las Vegas it should be! - delighted, Brian picked up his jacket, took a black lipstick out of his pocket and drew a rough map of America on the surface of the mirror, casually swipping the cocaine aside. He put a cross somewhere on Nevada, obviously marking the destination. - That's where we're going. And now - where do we go from? What fucking state do we even live in?
Now that was a good question. If there was anything that could provide some answers, that Holy Bible was Heather's journal.
- You know, it's weird that I know my name, and at the same time have absolutely no idea about my whereabouts. I mean, it's not like waking up with a hungover in someone's unfamiliar place, it's like wondering if we live in the USA at all - well, we're speaking English and enjoying tough American accent, so I see no other way, but hey, life is so-o-o unpredictable! But you were right talking about a proper reason for everything that happens - what if someone kinda deleted all information on purpose? What if we live in a fucked-up place like George Orwell's "1984"? Who the fuck is George Orwell, anyway?.. Whatever, guess we should...
Brian never had a chance to finish. A loud knock came on the door, a really intense one, and someone ordered in a harsh male voice:
- FBI! Open up, please!
- Oh crap, - Brian looked around the kitchen and whistled, - let's hope they have no search warrant... - but he seemed intrigued rather than scared by the situation. Attention, everyone! Adventure time!
The knocking repeated.
- Quick, - he caught his dear wife's look and pointed at the cocaine piles with his eyes, - clean it, sniff it, add some eggs and pretend you're baking a cake, I'll get the door!
He took a glance in the mirror to check if he had any traces of white powder on his face, then came to the door and opened it just a little.
- Hello, buddies, - Brian gave the policemen a casual joyful smile, while their faces had no expression at all, - do we have a problem? I don't remember getting involved with the police, but - one can't trust one's memory these days, ha-ha!
[NIC]Brian Osborne[/NIC] [STA]sick in the head[/STA] [AVA]http://se.uploads.ru/cJkDY.gif[/AVA] [SGN]http://sf.uploads.ru/4PUqC.gif
[/SGN]
[LZ1]БРАЙАН ОСБОРН, ??? y.o.
profession: unknown
relations: unknown
[/LZ1]

+2

8

She said to me:
Forget what you thought
'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught.

5 Seconds of Summer – Good Girls

I asked myself once - how do you know you can trust someone? And then come up with an idea that you don't. You just make the choice - to trust or not to trust - in Shakespearean manner but more practical. I've made bad choices in my life but I truly hope that Brian isn't going to be one of them. He seems nice and crazy, and I really love his attitude towards life in general. I think that he might me one of a few people who actually enjoying this way of life - living one day at a time with no past, no future and no regrets concerning both of them. I'm still not that kind of person, but I think that something did really make me to say yes to him yesterday and it wasn't a bad decision - so as me sharing my secret about the journal with him right now - as he is clapping his hands like a baby boy. Brian seems to be honest and that is one of the best qualities man could have. I guess, we're meant to be together.
- I've never told anyone that. Guess, we should keep it a secret, shouldn't we? - I ask him, holding his hands. I'm happy that I found someone to build my future with. I'm happy that I'll no longer be all alone in the night and I'll have someone to be my company when I'm sad and miserable. Actually, I think I'll never be sad and miserable because life with Brian seems to be funny and exiting. Well, it also could be dangerous and rebellious but I think I can handle it. 
As he had been drawing with the black lipstick a small map of America, I was smiling. This guy is bringing me alive, he is forcing me to forget my shy personality and is bringing something burlesque-ish from that closet I keep my dark secrets at.
- I have no idea, sweetheart, - and this is the complete and ugly truth, because the only thing I know about this place is that it's kinda isolated. I get my post everyday and it's only the name of a "S.Town" written on the envelopes so I'm not even sure we live in United States. We could be anywhere and that sounds a bit sinister. Maybe, we're all lost in time and space?
- Someone must have told us that we live in America but I'm not quite sure that we could trust anyone. I've uncovered different lies with my journal and I guess, we could read it. I'll go get it, - but I never had the opportunity to finish my great idea and share the plan of "A Big Brother is always watching"-scheme. There was a loud knock on the door which made me shiver. I've never had a police come to my house and this is FBI - the case must be a very important one. I've tried comforting myself thinking that they might have been looking for someone but at the same time deep down in my mind I was panicking. What is going to happen if they see the journal? I might pretend to use it as a cooking book but is it gonna work?
- Do you prefer cherry pie or a cream one? - I asked Brian smiling like a paralyzed shark and them headed to the table, put some flour on the cocaine, eggs and began to actually knead the dough. Well, if this whole police situating is going to be over soon, we'll have a pie of cocaine in our hands. What a joyful morning!
I haven't heard the policemen but I did heard what Brian said to them. Oh, nasty boy, are we gonna be in trouble or your magical sense of humor is going to save us all? I guess I could help a bit since my lady manners are extra classy and there are men who can't simply bear it.
- Well, hello there, - I'm waving with my hands fully covered in flour and smile generously, - If you'd come later, I'd love to share the cherry pie with you. Honey, is there any problems?
I'm smiling again, hoping that my glamorous look will help us. I'm the good girl here and so is my husband guys. You'd better head off or I'll slice your throat with my cake-cutting knife.
[NIC]Heather Treese [/NIC] [STA]as perfect[/STA] [AVA]http://funkyimg.com/i/2mkMB.gif[/AVA] [SGN]-[/SGN]
[LZ1]HEATHER TREESE, unknown y.o.
profession: none;
relations: someone
[/LZ1]

+2

9

Brian looked sincerely cheerful, but the policemen, two rather unfriendly guys, were keeping silence. No greetings, no smiles, not a single word back. What ugly manners!
The men looked like they were waiting for something - or someone. What did they expect to happen? Did they want to see Heather? Were they surprised to find her not alone? Disappointed? Annoyed? Their faces remained blank like Helloween masks. Brian wasn't sure they even blinked. Do they hire robots in the FBI these days?
But most importantly: did all that mean they _really_ were in trouble? How big this trouble could be?
Heather, wonderful, sweet lady Heather came to the rescue. Her nearby presence made Brian feel better, almost like she breathed some fresh air in his lungs; she inspired him, and he immediately knew he got this. Whatever happens next, he got this.
The couple seemed to be a true example of the Beauty and the Beast story. Only, this Beast didn't own a huge castle and all his fortune was measured in cocaine piles instead of golden ones.
- FBI, ma'am, - one of the strangers finally spoke, showing his badge to the couple, - just a routine check. Mind if I take a look around? Sorry to interupt your breakfast. Won't take long, I promise. Thank you.
He didn't wait for a reply; his "thank you" words came faster than Brian could say "fuck you" and close the door.
- Do you need me to go? - the other man asked his collegue, who was already in the hall.
- No, stay there, - said the police guy, closing the door behind him.
The question seemed weird even to Brian. He followed the cop, who was walking around the room now, looking around with an aimless gaze, like if he wasn't actually looking for anything particular.
What was rushing through Heather's mind now? Was she scared or nervous? Brian quickly glanced on his wife, hoping that his presence in its turn encouraged her a little. He was here, he would never let anything bad happen to her, he would never let anyone hurt her, whether it's gonna be a policeman, or a wild tiger, or a UFO, or a Skynet invasion.
And just as soon as he thought that, he saw the policeman suspiciously reaching inside his coat, as if grabbing something from a hidden pocket. At the same moment Brian got this instinctive feeling, feeling which a male gets when something endangers his female. He jumped to the cop, adrenaline pulsing in his veins, heart beating as fast as a roller coaster, mind in total darkness, just in time to push away the cop's arm while he, a fucking police bastard, tried to aim at Heather with a gun. The man fired, but lost his aim to this push, so the bullet went flying and straight into the wall not far from the place the girl was standing.
The struggle was extraordinary silent; there were no words spoken or shouted, no threats made - just angry animal noises, like a wild bear's roar, coming from both men clenched together in a fight. If Brian was a tiger, he would tear the jerk apart with his bare teeth - that would be such a pleasure... but luckily for him Brian was just a human, and, unlike the policeman, not specially trained and unarmed.
Still, the struggle was violent. The police bitch, surprised by a suddent attack, tried to aim at his opponent to shoot him, but Brian's firm grip wouldn't let him do it; Brian tried his best to kick the gun out of the man's hand, but the fucker was strong.
Yet, miracles do happen, and we should all admit it, because the policeman slipped on the floor carpet, and Brian used the chance to catch the hand that was holding a gun and grip it tightly. A second later he managed to get a finger on the trigger, the gun pointing at the policeman now, and pulled it.
A shot came loud; the bullet got the FBI-guy in the throat, went up his chin and probably got stuck somewhere in his brain. Some blood spilt on Brian's hands. He released the grip, and both the man and the gun dropped on the floor and stayed there, unmoving. The fight winner looked at the body in a bit of a shock, all covered in sweat, a few fresh bruises shining brightly on the pale skin. The policeman was dead. Killed.
- Fuck, - Brian breathed out a rather logical expression in the circumstances, - I killed a cop... woah.
Well, he must've done a lot of crazy shit in his life, and by saying "a lot" I mean _a lot_. Brian's freakish look hinted at some very possible history of mental problems, drug-usage, maybe a few broken laws, but hey, even the craziest psychos should have limits. How about killing an FBI agent? How crazy is that, scale one to ten?
A brand new killer looked at the door. There was another man standing behind it, and the weirdest thing was that he remained there, nice and calm. The shots were loud enough for him to hear them; two shots, to be specific, the missed one that hit the wall and the good one that ended the motherfucker's life. Well, sooner or later the still alive cop would get worried about his absent mate... he was a danger. Too much of a danger to let him go anywhere or report anything. Besides, he must've been armed, too.
Brian looked at the gun, still lying on the floor, but dismissed the idea. He didn't trust his shaking hands, and he never really trained as a shooter. He decided to use a knife instead - the biggest kitchen knife he was able to see on the kitchen table.
- Stay back, honey, - he told his lady in a casual tone, then reached for the door, opened it in one quick motion and surprised the remaining agent by sticking the knife into his throat.
The man was caught completely off guard; he tried to grab the knife's handle and get it out, but the blade must've damaged some hardcore blood vessels - there came a fountain of blood, an unstoppable bright-red stream, flooding the wall, then the stairs, when the man knelt, then fell to the ground, everything moving in slow motion like in horror movies, except for the blood, striking on and on, until the victim stopped breathing.
A double murder: achievement unlocked.
No, this actually wasn't funny.
- Darling, - Brian rushed into the house, closed the door and stared at Heather, - we must get away. Right now, - a wise decision, considering.
What can be said? The Beast turns super furious, when someone touches his Beauty...
[NIC]Brian Osborne[/NIC] [STA]sick in the head[/STA] [AVA]http://se.uploads.ru/cJkDY.gif[/AVA] [SGN]http://sf.uploads.ru/4PUqC.gif
[/SGN]
[LZ1]БРАЙАН ОСБОРН, ??? y.o.
profession: unknown
relations: unknown
[/LZ1]

+2

10

All my friends are heathens, take it slow
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don't make any sudden moves
You don't know the half of the abuse

twenty one pilots – Heathens

These guys seem a bit robotic to me, like they are some kind of an alien species that came here on the earth to greet us. Although, they're not looking friendly, just concentrated and a bit annoyed. Are they waiting for someone or something? What are they looking for with this so-called "routine check"? I have no idea whether these guys are coming here every other Tuesday or it's their first time. Are they looking for my journal? Because, if they do, I don't think it's a good idea. No one will ever touch it without my permission.
- Okay, gentlemen, take your time, - I'm smiling again pretending that everything is okay and heading back to the kitchen. But then the time has stopped. Everything happened so quickly that I had really no idea what was going on. The cop aimed a gun at me and Brian killed the guy. There was silence for a moment, which was then interrupted by a short and a very concrete word that perfectly summed up the whole situation. Yeah, honey, fuck - you've just killed a cop.
- Well done, sweetheart, - my voice seemed strange even to me but then I realized that we need to put ourselves together as soon as possible and do something. My sweet, caring Brian took a giant knife from the kitchen and went to the doorstep - I guess, to deal with the other guy. I put the pie in the oven, and head back to the window. I guess, this is my last morning here anyway. I could only pray for Brian and for us now. We're now in big trouble.
His hands were covered in blood as Brian appeared in the middle of the kitchen saying that we must go at once.
- Take him inside the house, quickly, - we need to get rid of the evidence, right? As Brian is struggling with another cop, I'm taking the guy in the kitchen and undressing him. Well, it's gonna be a wonderful scene - two drunk idiots got wasted and burned the house till the ground. Of course, it's strange and weird, and FBI will definitely uncover everything but at least we could buy ourselves time - just enough to flee from the city once and  for good.
I'm going to the bedroom and taking the journal from its' secret place. It took me two minutes to take my clothes off and get dressed; only a second wasted on combing the hair and I was ready, standing near the door with a little suitcase in my hands where only the necessary things were allowed.
- I'm ready, darling. Could you please get these nice gentlemen ready to sit at the table? - with no uniform they could easily look like a normal people, right? I'm heading to the kitchen and taking the pie out of the oven. It looks almost done, so I'm adding some cherries on top of it and we're good to go. The oven remains open and the gas is on. As soon as we leave the house, it might get really hot in my neighbourhood.
- We can take my car or we can use the cop car. What do you say? - I'm not a fan of extreme but right now I feel the urge to do something really badass and risky, so here is your chance, Brian, to guide me through your wonderful adventurous world.
[NIC]Heather Treese [/NIC] [STA]as perfect[/STA] [AVA]http://funkyimg.com/i/2mkMB.gif[/AVA] [SGN]-[/SGN]
[LZ1]HEATHER TREESE, unknown y.o.
profession: none;
relations: someone
[/LZ1]

+2

11

Once everything was over, Brian felt a bit shaky. He's just killed two people. Does it make him a true monster, a freak both on the inside and outside? Or should it be counted as a way of self-defense - and not just "self" defense, he saved his wife's life, which was even more important. No, there's nothing that would ever stop him from taking Heather away from here, away from all the danger, and fuck the consequences. Even if that makes him a killer.
Just like a perfect caring wife, Heather didn't reject her loving husband despite all the crazy shit she had to witness; if she was scared - and she must've been - she didn't show it. The Beauty didn't see the Beast as a monster; whatever people said and whatever happened, to her he was still a protector and a nice beloved darling. That was incredible.
The lady also managed to keep her mind clear. She was definetely not the kind of girls who go nuts and hysterical when they see someone's blood. Heather saw a lot of blood and a couple of dead bodies, but her ability to think rationally didn't vanish in the air, which was good - they both needed to stay calm and rational.
- Right, - the man agreed and grabbed the guy he killed the last to get him inside the house. The skin on the corpse was as white as snow; it looked like he lost all the blood he had in him. Mr. Snowhite they should call him. Should they put him in a crystal coffin and leave it in the forest for the dwarves to find?
First they had to destroy the evidence. Heather's theory may work: take the policemen's clothes, take their guns, take everything that belonged to them, turn on the gas and - voila, watch the magic happen! Talking about magic, smart and sexy Heather truly deserved the title of something marvelous today, but was she a sweet fairy or a wicked witch? Or did Brian's company change her a little?
Anyway, now they had to run together. It was the beginning of a new chapter, the Bonnie & Clyde-style one. But first they had to choose a car. Wow, they even had a few options! What a luxury!
- We can't use your car. The police must know the number, they'll get us in a second or two, - Brian replied after a moment of hesitation, - while if we take their car, no one will stop us at least for some time, and let's hope this time is enough to get us at a safe distance, - they should change the car once they get a chance to do it. Maybe to hijack another one if they drive through a parking lot - why not? They killed two FBI agents, it can't get any worse.
- The smell of freedom. I can feel it now, - Brian smiled, opening the police car's door to let his honey inside like a gentleman. Then he got behind the wheel, locked the door and took a quick look in the mirror.
- Well, bye, sweet home, - there was no regret in his voice, - and bye, you dead fuckers! - the man stretched his arm out of the car's window and showed them the middle finger, - hold on tight, honey!
He hit the gas and started off, speeding up in a matter of seconds. The house was getting smaller and smaller in the mirror, keeping their dark bloody secrets.
- Out of the way, assholes! - Brian found a light bar button and pushed it, turning on the siren. - That's better!
He turned his face to Heather, smiling like a fascinated teenager riding a roller coaster.
- Ever dreamed of driving a police car with sirens on? Dreams are made to come true! What a light show, so cool!
The cars on the road were hurryng out of the couple's way; no one was surprised by the speed and the way the police car was driving. Which was perfect, because Brian drove like a madman - actually, he wasn't really sure he had a license, but he managed to keep the car on the road without hitting anything or anyone so far.
- Take a look aroung the car, darling, - he asked Heather, watching the road and trying to avoid an ice-cream truck, - maybe we'll figure out what they had on us. And your journal - what does it say? About us? The cops? The location? Anything?
[NIC]Brian Osborne[/NIC] [STA]sick in the head[/STA] [AVA]http://se.uploads.ru/cJkDY.gif[/AVA] [SGN]http://sf.uploads.ru/4PUqC.gif
[/SGN]
[LZ1]БРАЙАН ОСБОРН, ??? y.o.
profession: unknown
relations: unknown
[/LZ1]

+2

12

You know Brian, I'm kinda new to all this, so please forgive me my stupid idea about using my own car. You have a point here - police will certainly recognize the number on the license plate and we might get ourselves in trouble - even bigger than the one we're already in.
- You're right, - suddenly I find myself sitting on the passenger seat of the police car and Brian is next to me yelling some sick words towards poor dead police guys who were left in a kitchen with an oven already turned on for them. It's like a chapter from a fairy tale but the one with the sad and very fiery ending. Well, at least my house is not there to represent the gingerbread one which surely belongs to a Wicked Witch.
- I've no idea whether I've ever dreamed about it but this is surely exciting, - I grant him with a smile and check my hair using a small mirror. Everything is perfect. We've just done the most stupid and dangerous thing we could possibly do but life is short and we'd better cherish these short moments of freedom and joy than regret not having them for the rest of our lives.
I'm not quite accustomed to reading my journal or any other book on the go. It's much more convenient to sit back, relax, turn on some classic music like Beethoven or Mozart, have a cup of tea, cover my legs with a blanket and read about events of yesterday. But, hey, sometimes we have no choice but to change our routine and get used to something new because new doesn't mean bad. It's just feels uncomfortable for the first time but then you'll start enjoying it.
- Well, let me see, - I had hope that the police car has something which can possibly explain why these guys have appeared on my doorstep with a loaded gun but there were absolutely nothing. No clues, no papers, not even a slight touch of anything that can lead to an answer. So I headed back to my journal hoping that I've precisely documented my day - as I always do.
- It's said here that I've met you at the bar where I was.. dancing? - I don't even know how to dance but it's said here in my own handwriting that I was "doing some usual go-go and then he approached carrying with him the strange mixture of freedom, crazy lipstick and a small touch of cocaine under his upper lip which I cared to wash away with a kiss". Now that is what I call an awkward moment!
- We met at the bar where I had been working the shift the other night. I guess, your lipstick and a pile of cocaine were the main things that got me, - I'm not sure if I'm ready to tell him the whole story. I can't believe it because I thought my life was perfect - with this yellow curtains, nice bedroom and small kitchen I had it all. And now I'm not even sure that the house we woke up was mine.
It took me a good ten minutes to find the answer to that question and I was not even sure how am I supposed to tell Brian the truth. Because as I read further, it gets uglier and uglier.
- Pull over here, honey, - I do hope that my smile will comfort you or at least I'll do my best to do so. I'm not sure you're ready to hear the amazing news while driving because I don't think that I'm ready to die today.
- The thing is that we did met yesterday and you told me that you know the whole S.City thing was a plot and you want to find out who is behind this. We got married because this is what I wanted too. And then we robbed the liquor store and broke into someone's house knocking him unconscious in the basement because you've said that you're afraid of blood and I was not ready to kill a person. He then walked out of the door by himself in the middle of the night with no pants on. Or even underwear, - I'm waving my journal like a white flag. What now, honey?
- Hey, I need an ice-cream and something strong like coffee with a whiskey or even whiskey with a coffee. Do we have some? - I'm playing it cool because I guess we all are mad here and playing cool is the only thing I'm good at. Except, maybe, pole-dancing - I trust my journal on this thing.
[NIC]Heather Treese [/NIC] [STA]as perfect[/STA] [AVA]http://funkyimg.com/i/2mkMB.gif[/AVA] [SGN]-[/SGN]
[LZ1]HEATHER TREESE, unknown y.o.
profession: none;
relations: someone
[/LZ1]

+3

13

Looking around the car didn't help much. Heather's diary was the only hope they had now. And it didn't let them down.
Making a quick stop at the side of the road was a wise thing to do - the news were... curious. Shocking. Intriguing.
- Just whiskey with no coffee would be better, - Brian shook his head, looking over his shoulder, - but I can still see an ice-cream truck over there. We can rob it and have some ice-cream. Won't be worse than the shit we've got ourselves into already, - definetely won't.
Brian wasn't really surprised about the sudden marriage or even the criminal part, but the lady mentioned some kind of a... plot? How on earth could HE manage to uncover something great and global like this?
- You say I said "a plot"... - he frowned, trying to remember anything, at least a smallest single thing, so hard that his fingerbones went pale when he grabbed the wheel, squeezing it. - Sounds like a mix of sick fairytales and The Matrix. How could I possibly learn about this? Hm... indeed, that's weird, - everything about Brian was weird, from what he looked like to the knowledge he used to possess.
- I wouldn't call myself a reliable source of information, - said the psycho drug-addict, still thinking hard. His lips slowly parted, forming a vicious smile, - yet this theory actually makes sence. What other reasons could be for the whole city to have a fucking amnesia every morning? Certainly not just a coincidence, huh? Do you believe in coincidences, darling? Well, if they happen, they're usually no good ones. Our meeting is the only nice coincidence I'm sure ever existed, - and yet a few people had to die. They were asking for this, surely. Oh these love stories! Remember Romeo and Juliet, the greatest tragedy of all times! What strong love! So strong that it killed so many people! Now isn't it fascinating?
By-passers were staring with a suspicious look at the police car calmly resting on the spot.
- Guess we should change the car, - Brian started driving towards a parking lot, - I'm gonna miss the siren though...
Today was their lucky day: the parking lot was full of cars and absolutely free of people.
- Just pick the one you like, honey, - the man opened the police car's trunk and took out some tools, - I'll do the rest. You know, I'm not sure but I feel like I know how to turn off the car alarm. Wonder where these skills come from... but they sure come in handy. I'm full of surprises!
A few moments later they were riding a safe car. Still they had to avoid busy roads and stay away from the police.
- This plot thing occupies my mind, - Brian complained, watching the road. They were away from the city centre now, there were fewer cars, more trees and generally more picteresque places. They've been driving for some time already, and the driver seemed to be better now at what he was doing with a wheel, - maybe... maybe we're all kinda drugged? Drugs can cause memory loss, I know that, - he laughed, - what bothers me is the "why". Why? Who could have fun depriving people of all their recollections? Whoever it is, they must be a madman like me. Or worse. 
He took a quick look at the mirror and whisteled:
- O-o-oh, sweetie, we have someone following us. I strongly recommend you ducking your head just in case.
[NIC]Brian Osborne[/NIC] [STA]sick in the head[/STA] [AVA]http://se.uploads.ru/cJkDY.gif[/AVA] [SGN]http://sf.uploads.ru/4PUqC.gif
[/SGN]
[LZ1]БРАЙАН ОСБОРН, ??? y.o.
profession: unknown
relations: unknown
[/LZ1]

+3

14

- нет игры больше месяца, в архив -

0


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