May 2, 2001
duo maxwell's diary
part three
eh. o.-; this isn't my fic, but ariana's not going to finish it, and i've
been delegated fic-finisher. i'm sorry, baby, if i completely bastardize
your vision! *sobs*
previous parts at gwaddiction.com ^-^
December 12
6:23...or 6:32...something like that. Woke to hear city-people busily mowing grass. Made it to window with bottle. Noise stopped.
1:30. Oh God! Found self asleep on couch, amidst a pile of beer bottles. Crawled to window, and saw man passed out on sidewalk below window with glass around head. Hope to God it wasn't self that inflicted the...er...damage.
1:35. Seriously panicking.
1:36. What should one do?! Man passed out on sidewalk; cannot very well tell operator that dropped wine bottle on lawnmower's head because was disturbing rest.
1:37. Holding phone.
1:40. Dialing number.
1:42. Not a fluke this time, actually pressing number of police officer. Thank heavens Quatre is anal, or else would never have put little sticker with number on Rolodex. Should call Quatre later and find out how date went with Trowa...
1:45. Ice cream truck drove by, reminding that had pint of Ben and Jerry's stashed in freezer.
2:00. Ah. All gone. Will do extra Tae-Bo to make up for all the proteins and fatty acids.
2:30. Damn. Watching evangelical minister, but still have not called police--Jerry Falwell!
2:45. Will call police later. Jane Fonda Latin Workout came on TNN and just couldn't help self. Rhythm really got me.
4:45. V. bad. Quatre coming over in five; man on sidewalk is GONE! MIA! DISAPPEARED! Hope he didn't see me... Phone!
4:51. Treize. Wanted to go to out for drinks, but had to decline, saying aunt was sick with encephalitis of nasal passages. Could simply not tell Treize that had knocked city worker lawnmower man unconscious. Quatre here!
7:35. AH! Quatre insisted on calling Trowa for advice, and Trowa called Ranger Marshall, since "he's an officer of the law, knows more than any of us". Ranger Marshall came by to take a statement.
Ranger Marshall: So, when you threw the bottle at his head--
Me: I didn't throw it--
Ranger Marshall: --did you know that it would KILL him?!
Me: Kill him? Ranger Marshall, he's not on the bloody sidewalk any longer! I'd say he's not dead.
Ranger Marshall: Oh. I'm sorry. I'm terribly wrong. [1]
Me: Ahhhh...
[one hour later]
Ranger Marshall: Let's go over the part where you started shaking your booty in spandex to Jane Fonda, just one more time...
Ah! Pervert! Had to have him forcibly removed; looked as if wanted to make pass at Trowa. Quatre fumed entire time. Poor Quatre.
It figures. All this and still no phone call from Heero. Have dropped enough hints!
10:00. Tired. Going to bed. Poo on Heero, anyway. Has big nose.
December 13
9:00. Not sure exactly how got into this mess, but think it started this morning, when attempted to elude police officers...
"Duo Maxwell?" Looked up to find two burly looking chaps in expensive suits standing in front of my desk. Quickly clicking out of the gay porn sites I'd been looking at, gave them my best smile.
"That's me," I said. When smile failed, knew was in trouble.
"I want an attorney," said, pouting. They exchanged glances.
"One phone call," said taller one. His nametag read Mueller.
Leafed through work Rolodex and called Heero. Had looked up number in boredom earlier that day, then spent the morning amusing myself by calling and hanging up on his secretary. Hoped he didn't have Caller ID. (Me? Obsessed? No.)
She put me through to Heero right away, as if he'd been hoping I'd call. Nonsense, I told myself.
"Heero?"
"Duo?" Sounded surprised. Not a good sign. "Duo Maxwell, is that you?"
"Yes," I said, glaring at the two men. "Heero, I need your help."
"Will be right over," said Heero, and hung up.
Turned out Ranger Marshall had turned me in for murder and suspected prostitution. Did not like Heero laughing at the last charge. Pouted as was forced to sit on dirty mattress while waiting for bail.
Then laughed as saw look on Heero's face as was forced to sit on dirty mattress. Mueller locked Heero in with me. "You shouldn't have called him a bloody incompetent," I said, staring at his shiny shoes.
"You shouldn't have dropped that bottle on the bloody fellow's head," he said.
Point taken. Started whistling; jumped as he put a hand on my knee.
"Stop that," said Heero.
Stopped whistling right away. Changed mind. Do not want Heero. Boy is creepy. Very creepy.
11:00. Even creepier when sleeping. Doesn't snore like any normal person. Wouldn't know if died in his sleep.
11:05. He's still sleeping.
11:06. Still sleeping.
11:10. Still sleeping.
11:13. Think will wake him now. Putting hand over mouth...
12:00. Ow. Glad the officer on duty had ice pack and was willing to share. Will have black eye.
1:00. Hilde! Yes!
1:15. Hilde! No! Take me too! No...
1:20. Hmmph. Not angry that best friend took Heero and left self. No, not angry at all.
1:23. Not angry in the slightest. Not bloody angry.
1:25. Light off. Scared. Mommy!
End Part Three
Bianca
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