U WANT THE SCOOP?

if not, that’s cool. I don’t really have anything on it yet because it just hit 12 am and I need to work in the morning. We can plot while I build, though. Oh yeah

Moments of peace ever only lasted a split second around here. Elijah couldn’t flip the page of his magazine without momentarily hearing shouting or something breaking before he was sucked back into the world of what appeared to be... he pulled the page away from his face.. altruistic vacuum cleaners. Hm. Kitty must’ve left this down here, and truth be told he could interest himself with almost anything. He couldn’t brand himself with that honor, though, no. Not when he saw the toppling body of his six-foot giant friend Kelso being flung over the couch and onto the floor like a rag doll. Even with the blow to the stomach he was laughing, and it was contagious, as he himself was snickering quietly behind the cathartic smoke he was having. No words to spare, though, not even when Donna asked him how he could go through a pack a day and complain about not understanding their herb sessions. Typical Friday afternoon. He held it up, anyone who wanted could invite themselves to a hit..

revelations of discarded body parts and clothes are being discovered around town. In dumps, ponds, sewers. The stench is old, encompassing the town in a black cloud where it rains nearly every day. There are two people who consider themselves smart enough to see past the muck of the town. Both keen on knowing. They believe either one of them is responsible, both, or maybe neither. notes: leaving a lot of open room for this. either muses could be an investigator, family member/friend of one of the deceased, -- being one of these roles does not automatically mean innocent party.

“You focus on takin’ care of that smell and leave the rest to me, alright? Not another peep out of ya. You can’t relax if you don’t let yourself.” Matt always felt he was well inclined in nurturing out his partners. It was the same with his prior wife, though she’d gotten tired of the charming knight act not long after they’d commemorated their marriage. He’d only hoped this time around would go different, he wasn’t the type of guy to pick up girls at bars anymore. He offered Emilie a kiss to the forehead, his large hand pushed behind her head to stroke her hair comfortingly. As he departed from her he watched her with an eased expression, one that said he’d take care of her. He stepped outside into the cold, phone in hand and cigarette in the other. A pack of blues, the tar was wrapped in tobacco, so it bit, just how he liked it. He scrolled through his endless contacts, hoping to call one of them places with the coupons, save them a couple of bucks. Nearby diner sounded nice, he could grab the food for them and be back before she left the bath, it shouldn’t be much of a hassle. 

“Did you talk to your lawyers?” – “Yeah, yeah, they said everything’s alright. I pushed the subpoena date until February, just until, ” – “Right,” – “Everything’s okay.. at home. Francine are you alright?” – “I gotta go, Matt. I’m picking up my bag.” – “Oh, okay. Give me a call, alright? Just to know you’re okay?...Francine?” Truth be told she’d watched her bag circle around the baggage claim three times. It wasn’t easy to miss; purple with a rose gold chain attached to the top zipper. She only needed the one bag. When she’d attempted to grab the handle, it’d unhinged, extracting out and causing the luggage to tip over the side. “Oh, shit,” as it snapped her ankle. If she were less versed in heels there’d been the possibility she’d slip. Just what she needed, she thought. The ride home came and went in flashes. Francine spent a lot of time pressing into the backseat of the cab, almost like she’d been wanting to hide away from the world. She hadn’t noticed it until then, but she’d been holding her breath ever since the airport. The one person she could confide in with how she felt was spending the weekend away with his new girlfriend because he couldn’t stand the tension in their home. Tension that he’d created. Thinking of the devil had manifested his name on her phone screen, worried that she hadn’t been the same. “Txt me when you get home” and “Send my condolences to your family.” Her family didn’t want to hear from him, and sometimes barely from her if she were honest. That was what got her into most messes nowadays, honesty, like when she’d told the cab driver to close the window that separated their two worlds because his cologne was too much to take in. She’d hoped the first time she’d come home in awhile was to have a harmonious talk with her mother about their instigations throughout the years, but she’d settle for her dad. Maybe they could make it feel like Christmas after the seltzer lemonade with a pinch of vodka like he always liked. The cab was an addition to the many parked cars outside her childhood home, family that must’ve come in. Was she the last one here?

A story about a pair of people who were better off never meeting each other. But they had/did anyway. Messy, horrific. Them being together is catastrophic, hurtful and demeaning, but the universe keeps putting them in each others paths. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a romantic plot, in fact platonic would be better. I’ll add to this as I think of more.

“I told you.” There was a hazy breath that escaped his lips. It was one of disappointment, more so in him. “It’s not you, it’s me.” So much belief in determinism, yet he couldn’t get past the brick wall that separated him from her. Each word he dropped was poison, and he could see that. He’d only wished he’d spared her. 

Elijah had only been recently put on this ticket a few weeks prior. His talents were best executed behind a screen; where he wrote blogs and articles for music theology or radio colonoscopy. His incentive was bringing old media to the new age, but the firm that he was signed to had lost some of its most stubborn journalists, so they moved him and a few others up to the front line. It was a huge mistake, he thought. Elijah had no idea how to do this-- how to refuse turning around when he received a no. “Y-You don’t have to answer any personal questions.. Over the years I have found that the procedures and tools used by most professionals in the music production process are very similar in concept and design. I was curious as to if you..No, No, I-”  He sighed. Maybe this was just a cheap scoop. It was for a company that not even five years ago had finally made the switch to turn digitally. He’d read up on this guy, as soon as he got a name, mostly about his exotic life. Even with the questions he’d been given to ask Elijah wrote his own. Maybe he could sneak in something lucid along with the two-dimensional cover stories. “I’ll even send it to you when I’m done. I won’t post it up if you don’t want me to.”

he sang as softly as he could, though his voice overbore just a little the more he got into it.