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sisabetSo - this is not all of part 3 - in fact this is just a snippet and I probably wouldn't post it yet, except it is not like this is a fic so I can just post anything I want. Also - seeing as how today is High Holy Day - I really should be deep in meditation and not writing about Body!Swapping. But I made Starla worry that Brian is an alcoholic and while he may actually have a problem, that is not for me to decide.
So here is a part of part 3.
One Week 3a/?
Saturday: Day One Continued
And cut for a commercial break. Sorry, gotta pay them bills. Ya’ll really want to buy “American Wedding” on DVD, dontcha? Sorry about that ad, here is one for Geraldine’s Bodacious Cheese Straws – try the chipotle!
And we fade back into the loft to the low strains of The Barenaked Ladies: Like Kurasawa I make mad films, okay, I don't make films, but if I did they'd have a Samurai
Brian is leaning against the post near the kitchen (you know – the one where Justin ends up post-scalping) watching Michael pace and drink.
“Christ, your personality is just fucking hyper. Could you maybe sit down for like a fucking second? You’re giving me a headache.”
“I can’t help it. I feel like I need something and this drink isn’t helping. It’s just getting worse too. God, Brian is this what you feel like all the time?” Michael crouches beside Brian and looks extremely concerned, “Is this why you have to get high all of the time and fuck everything that walks? Cause this feeling is not normal.”
“What exactly are you feeling?”
“Like I can’t sit still because there is something that I need and I should go get it. I feel it in, like, my arms and stuff – like I should be reaching for something and God this is fucking driving me insane. I think my chest hurts. Brian, how is your heart? I think you may be having a heart attack. Fuck.”
Brian stares at Michael for a long moment and then realization dawns and he smiles. He jumps up and goes to the counter, lights a cigarette and hands it to Michael.
“Here. You want this.”
“No, Brian, get that out of my face. It’s disgusting, I don’t smoke.”
“You don’t smoke, I do. Just take this…”
“No, I don’t want to smoke,” Michael shuts up momentarily as Brian sticks the cigarette in his mouth, “God this is gross and OMIGOD!”
Michael sinks down to lean against the counter. Brian snags an ashtray and joins him.
“Oh. My. God. This is…this is just incredible,” Michael sucks on his cigarette as if it contains a thousand orgasms, the mystery of life and not a small amount of heroin. “I mean, I knew you had to like it to keep doing it even though it’s giving you wrinkles,” Brian scowls at Michael, “But I never knew…” he trails off now enthralled by the burning stick of nicotine.
“Yeah. It is one of life’s great pleasures…,” Brian is thoughtful now, “And why they invented Botox. You’re gonna want to be sure that whenever you get that feeling in your arms that you light one up. Otherwise, you’ll turn into the little bitch that graced our presence today.”
“What,” Michael giggles (and Brian is disturbed on a very deep level watching his body giggle) and shoves at Brian, “I was not a little bitch.”
“Were, too. Also, I think you wore a hole in floor.”
“Well, your body takes some getting used to.”
Brian smiles, “You are not the first person to think so.”
“Huh, I don’t think you said that right?”
“What?”
”What you just said, that makes no sense.”
Brian looks at Michael puzzled. “It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You know what? We are too fucking sober, that is the problem.” Brian goes to a drawer and pulls out his stash and starts packing a small pipe.
“I think you may be right about that. Fuck this is a good cigarette.”
So here is a part of part 3.
One Week 3a/?
Saturday: Day One Continued
And cut for a commercial break. Sorry, gotta pay them bills. Ya’ll really want to buy “American Wedding” on DVD, dontcha? Sorry about that ad, here is one for Geraldine’s Bodacious Cheese Straws – try the chipotle!
And we fade back into the loft to the low strains of The Barenaked Ladies: Like Kurasawa I make mad films, okay, I don't make films, but if I did they'd have a Samurai
Brian is leaning against the post near the kitchen (you know – the one where Justin ends up post-scalping) watching Michael pace and drink.
“Christ, your personality is just fucking hyper. Could you maybe sit down for like a fucking second? You’re giving me a headache.”
“I can’t help it. I feel like I need something and this drink isn’t helping. It’s just getting worse too. God, Brian is this what you feel like all the time?” Michael crouches beside Brian and looks extremely concerned, “Is this why you have to get high all of the time and fuck everything that walks? Cause this feeling is not normal.”
“What exactly are you feeling?”
“Like I can’t sit still because there is something that I need and I should go get it. I feel it in, like, my arms and stuff – like I should be reaching for something and God this is fucking driving me insane. I think my chest hurts. Brian, how is your heart? I think you may be having a heart attack. Fuck.”
Brian stares at Michael for a long moment and then realization dawns and he smiles. He jumps up and goes to the counter, lights a cigarette and hands it to Michael.
“Here. You want this.”
“No, Brian, get that out of my face. It’s disgusting, I don’t smoke.”
“You don’t smoke, I do. Just take this…”
“No, I don’t want to smoke,” Michael shuts up momentarily as Brian sticks the cigarette in his mouth, “God this is gross and OMIGOD!”
Michael sinks down to lean against the counter. Brian snags an ashtray and joins him.
“Oh. My. God. This is…this is just incredible,” Michael sucks on his cigarette as if it contains a thousand orgasms, the mystery of life and not a small amount of heroin. “I mean, I knew you had to like it to keep doing it even though it’s giving you wrinkles,” Brian scowls at Michael, “But I never knew…” he trails off now enthralled by the burning stick of nicotine.
“Yeah. It is one of life’s great pleasures…,” Brian is thoughtful now, “And why they invented Botox. You’re gonna want to be sure that whenever you get that feeling in your arms that you light one up. Otherwise, you’ll turn into the little bitch that graced our presence today.”
“What,” Michael giggles (and Brian is disturbed on a very deep level watching his body giggle) and shoves at Brian, “I was not a little bitch.”
“Were, too. Also, I think you wore a hole in floor.”
“Well, your body takes some getting used to.”
Brian smiles, “You are not the first person to think so.”
“Huh, I don’t think you said that right?”
“What?”
”What you just said, that makes no sense.”
Brian looks at Michael puzzled. “It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You know what? We are too fucking sober, that is the problem.” Brian goes to a drawer and pulls out his stash and starts packing a small pipe.
“I think you may be right about that. Fuck this is a good cigarette.”
