Octo's Story Time 2: La Villa Strangiato

[octovaitor]

Greetings denizens of the KS forum. I'm trying my hand at some short fiction, again. This is going to be weird. Sex probably won't happen. I have some different short story ideas and I'm going to write them over the course of a few days. Here's the first parts of the first three. As usual, criticism would be nice. Thanks for reading.

Any Old Morning
(Part 1)

The alarm clock rings. I smack the Donkey Kong alarm clock and listen as it hits the ground. My eyes explode open. Today’s the day! Time to bring the pain to the feminists!

I roll out of bed and make sure to land on my floor where there aren’t any makeshift caltrops, known to laymen as legos. I leap across the room to the locations that are free of such obstacles, which I am able to accomplish thanks to my superior intellect and many failures to avoid them.

I grab myself a towel from my closet, located in-between a box of tissues (not for masturbating), and a stack of Catwoman comic books (for masturbating), and then continue the act of leaping across my spikey mines. I reach the door without any incident, and proceed to deactivate all of my door’s security systems.

After I was done setting aside the wood plank that I brace it with, I stroll past my good buddy Hisao’s door and right into the lovely bathroom we share. He does such a good job of keeping it clean. Man, glad I didn’t get a bathroom with some unkempt asshole like myself. That would only cause issues. He’s been nothing but good to me.

No homo.

I toss the towel onto the counter and gently place down my glasses before stepping into the shower. The water begins obnoxiously cold before rapidly accelerating to a comfortable heat. I start to scrub myself and think of an appropriate tune to sing whilst I get clean. Something bluesy? Nah, don’t want to get sad. Something lighter, maybe? Nope. Needs to be manly! Inspiration then struck.

“Luck. Runs. Out.” Yeah this is perfect.

I grab my bar of soap and continue to please an invisible audience.

“Cause we hunt you down with out merrr-sayyy! Hunt you down all nightmare long!”

I move my large hands back and forth in my hair as I massage shampoo into it, making sure to get all of the luscious hair on my head. I’ll have to go get it cut before it gets too crazy, but I’ll enjoy the long hair for now.

“And you crawl back in, into your obsession. Never to return, this is your Confession!”

I step out of the shower in all my nude glory and grab my towel. I search for my glasses and dry myself off, as I continue to sing.

“Hunt you down without mercy!”

I finally grab my glasses and wipe away the fog on the mirror to bask in my awesome reflection.

“But your luck runs out!” I give a good metal scream and take a bow to my invisible audience. After the bow, I stand straight up and looked straight into a strange set of eyes.

The figure in the mirror was top heavy. He had luscious hair, covering most of his body. His hands were huge. He was visibly still rather wet and had a towel with DBZ characters on it covering his naughty bits.

There was a gorilla in the restroom.

I look around multiple times all around me and saw no one else in the room. I then realized that the gorilla in the mirror copied my movements of turning around and wildly fidgeting.

I can come to only one conclusion, seeing as how the gorilla was dashingly handsome, wearing my towel, and I had a strange craving for bananas.

I’m the gorilla in the restroom.

[octovaitor]

A Rin in Wonderland
(part 1)

It’s cloudy out today. I don’t remember Emi saying anything about it being cloudy today. It must have crept up on her this afternoon; otherwise, she’d have said something.

I’m painting something. I don’t really know what. Emi might know, and if she doesn’t know, then Hisao will know. He’s good at finding names for things. He says having names for things make them less mysterious and less scary, and he’s usually right. I still think he’d be scared of a lion even if he knew it was called a lion.

Suddenly, I can hear footsteps, and before I know it, I can see Emi and Hisao. They’re next to my painting. I tell them to pass me some paint. They do.

“Hey we’re gonna go up on the roof and eat lunch, you wanna come with?” Emi inquires.

I shrug, but I haven’t got anything else to do, so I get up. They shut the light off on the way out, and I can see the room turn green as we leave it.

We get up to the top of the roof, and sit down. Emi sits on my right. Hisao is on my left.

Emi just got done running. I can tell because she smells weird. She always smells weird after she runs. Hisao doesn’t smell weird, but he doesn’t smell like anything else I can think of either. I assume he smells like Hisao, because that’s what he is.

Emi then pulls something out of her bag, and it smells weird. Like her. She passes it to Hisao

“Come on, let’s dig in, “ she says excitedly.

Hisao complies and immediately wolfs the food down. Emi just takes little nibbles at it. I’m at a loss with what to do. The name of the food is escaping me.

[octovaitor]

This one is different tonally than the other two. It probably won't have any more parts.
Much Too Real

The bed feels cold. I stir in my sheets before finally finding the drive to sit up.

The hospital is it’s usual self. Blank walls, paintings of flowers, nondescript and easily manageable furniture. Cold. Passionless. Sterile.

But that would change today. The doctors were finally going to operate. It would have been unthinkable a few years back, and it had yet to be fully accepted in the medical community, but a few doctors made some waves with it. Some kid in Osaka already had it, and now he can run and jump and fuck around as much as he wants. My life could begin again.

A nurse appears in the doorway and beckons me forward. I stand up, faster than I ever had in the morning, and I follow her to the operating room.

The doctors are all there. A glint of delight in each eye emerges as I came in. Preparations are started and finished in record time. The sweet unconsciousness from the anesthesia finally kicks in, and my eyes dim.
_________________________________________________________________________________
The bed isn’t cold. I stir in my sheets before finally finding the drive to sit up. Or at least that is what I try to do.

I can’t move. I try to lift my hands, my feet, my head…and then I try to just lift anything, but it was all in vain. Nothing moved. My eyelids are stapled shut, my mouth is taped up, and my limbs are boulders of an infinite weight.

Why can’t I do anything? Why do my muscles refuse to respond to my efforts? Ah, of course, the surgery! The meds are probably just messing with my head.

I relax myself for a moment, and then I put all of my energy into rising myself. I strain to have my eyes open, to open my mouth for a yawn, to flex my fingers and toes.

None of it happens. It all stays the same. Darkness surrounds me. Nothing can move. For a brief moment, I feel nothing. But then, I feel something I did not want.

My mind aches. It feels as though though every molecule in my brain was rising from a wicked hangover, that every thought was pulsating around my brain and smacking it like a paddleball.

The pain spread. The hands that I was trying to lift are enveloped in flame. A thousand needles stab my legs. My stomach churns like a washing machine, and my innards are wailing like a banshee. Fingernails and toenails contort to allow spines to prick me between themselves and my flesh. A millions spiders coat my chest and bite into it with their fangs.

It is excruciating. As the pain envelops me, my drive to move is shot, and I give up without protest.

The pain slowly leaves. The flames flicker out, the needles retract, the machine crawls to a stop, the spines slip out, and the spiders all skitter off of me.

Soon, I am back to how I was. Cold and unfeeling. I need to sleep this off. These side effects are beyond anything that my condition has given me in the past. I just got to wait this out. It can’t go on forever.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
I hear the patter of metal tools against a countertop. It’s the first noise I’ve heard since I woke the first time from the surgery. I don’t know how much time has passed, but I’ve been in and out of sleep. I always wake up cold and I always try to move. Every pain comes back with a vengeance, every time I try. I haven’t tried to move since the last time I awoke. I can’t bear the pain.

Click. Click. Click.

Footsteps! Someone else is in my room! The person sighs and I can hear the rings of a phone.

“Oh, it’s you babe.”

There’s indecipherable chatter on the line.

“I’m still at the hospital. I’m actually straightening the room of some student right now.”

More chatter from the other end.

“Nah, they’re asleep. Poor kid hasn’t been awake for a while.”

What.

“Yeah, it’s terrible. One of the doctors messed up and things only escalated. It’s a miracle they were even able to save anything”

What.

“Yeah babe, I know what you mean. The kid’s parents were devastated.”

Anger ignites itself.

“It’s been a month now I think.”

Rage is bubbling throughout me.

“Yeah, babe. I wish I could quit too. It’s so depressing here. All the white walls and carefully ordered crap just sickens me after a while.”

The spiders are crawling over me. My fingers are ablaze. I can feel the points boring into my flesh.

“I can’t quit yet. In a few more weeks we’ll be moving to that school for the disabled out in the country, and I can at least practice my craft in a less sterile location. All the kids there are proof that modern medicine can work!”

I want to scream. Tears want to burst free but they cannot.

“Yeah, the patient here in fact went there. A bunch of his friends sent well wishes. I haven’t seen any new stuff from them in a while though…”

The pain is everywhere.

“Look babe, I got to go attend some other patient now. I’ll talk to you later.”

No! He’s leaving!

“Yeah, I love you too babe.”

Click. Click. Click.

He’s gone. I’m alone with my pain. Maybe if I just try to move hard enough, the pain will overcome and I'll die. I'll be at peace.

Or I could just sit here. Forever.

Guess I'd better find out...

[Silentcook]

First I wondered why you picked some horrible Spanish/Italian for a title.

Then I found out it's not something you thought up.

Now I'm wondering why you picked some horrible Spanish/Italian Rush picked for a title first.

[octovaitor]

There is a point, I assure you. I am not merely a loony Rush fan that writes bad KS fanfiction.

No, wait a sec. Thats exactly what I am.

[NekoDude]

I too am a loony Rush fan that writes fanfiction. If you think you suck, keep at it anyhow. The first half of "success" is "suck".

My Rush fandom extends beyond just listening to them though. I have my fictional band covering them now. YYZ was the very first thing I did. I considered doing La Villa Strangiato as well, but decided against it because they're a Chapman Stick/Drums duo, and I'd have to strip back the arrangement severely or add guests. That won't stop them from covering The Mars Volta though, I've already got something of theirs fully sequenced and ready to go when my voice is up to the task.

I've been informed that according to fanon, Yamaku has sufficient forces to assemble a string quartet who might be able to take up the missing parts. (How ironic, using a musical ensemble from Yamaku to fill in missing parts.)

[Mournful3ch0]

“Luck. Runs. Out.” Yeah this is perfect.

I couldn't hold it in. Burst out laughing, that was hilarious! Did you consider 'Enter Sandman'?