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Tweak says, "i am gerard way"

John Philip "Jack" McFarland (i_amjustjack) wrote in we_coexist,
@ 2008-02-13 19:27:00

Entry tags:

jack mcfarland, spike, zz:status complete

Heya Neighbor [tag: Spike]
This was probably the strangest thing that had ever happened to Jack McFarland in the history of... ever. One minute, New York City and the next... wherever the hell he was. He had left his mansion (his, he earned it fair and square by spending some of Beverly's inheritance), left Karen and Rosario, only to do a little hottie hunting when the worst of all things happened.

Lesbians. Kissing.

As in all over each other. Hands on boobies and tongues and...

Jack immediately stopped his moment of remembrance to choke back a retch. Gross... lesbians. He hated them, despised them. If God had wanted women to have sex, he would have given them penises.

He had taken a wrong turn away from the disgusting duo, down and alley and suddenly... no mansion. No Karen, no Rosario and no way home. What in gay hell had just happened to him? At least he was able to get what he needed: an apartment, clothes, food, decor that didn't belong in the dumpster behind K-mart. While the idea of maybe not seeing Karen again was depressing, that wasn't going to keep Jack down for long. There was a certain freedom to being all alone in an apartment again. Not nearly as fabulous as the mansion (tshaw, like it could ever be), but it was his.

Which of course meant that the stereo was on as loud as it would go and Cher was on constant repeat.

"No matter how hard I try... You keep pushing me aside and I cant break through... Theres no talking to you"

He danced, he sang, he did a somersault on his couch landing perfectly on his feet in the center of the living room and above all else - he had a turkey baster for a microphone. Jack didn't know a turkey baster was, but it looked like it was used for inseminating lesbians. Again, gross... but it was a great microphone and he needed on.

"Its so sad that you're leaving, It takes time to believe it. But after all said and done, you're gonna be the lonely one, ohhh.. DO YOU BELIEVE IN LIFE AFTER LOVE.."

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i_amjustjack
2008-02-25 05:06 pm UTC (link)

Hey! Wait, wait, wait!! What was this crazy hetero doing?! This was not how neighbors were supposed to meet! “Hey! Hey! HEY!” Jack squealed, hands flailing and slapping at his weird blond neighbor's grip. “Leggo the Homo!!”

He wriggled and squirmed, flailing to get free like a fish out of water... or a gay man in a straight club. “I get it, I get it, Mr. Blond Ambition Tour doesn't want to hear the gospel of Cher anymore. Put me down already.” Jack wriggled some more, fighting enough that he managed to get himself free. His hands fluttered in front of his chest, as if brushing away offense.

“That is not how neighbors are suppose to introduce themselves. Neighbors should be neighborly. The kind of people you want to welcome into your living room everyday... like Tony Danza.” Jack's eyes drew themselves from the stranger's face up to his hair. “Maybe share information on hair care products or at the very least... drinks with cute little umbrellas in them.”

Jack shuffled quickly back toward his door. “A proper neighbor would have said, 'Hi, my name is Billy Idol and I'm your neighbor, could you turn God down to a lighter volume please, I'm trying to pretend I don't watch Passions.'” It was a lucky guess, Jack had no idea who (only straights would watch it, seriously), would watch such an abomination.

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i_wannadance
2008-02-26 04:47 am UTC (link)

What was happening here was a lot like what you'd get when a bully held a little flailing wimp at arm distance, and the wimp kept missing the bully as he swung his arms. Classic.

But this time the wimp got away.

"Neighborly."

Spike canted his head, and bright blue eyes smiled at the guy he'd just been pinning to the wall.

"God doesn't go down to a reasonable volume, mate," he said. This Spike was sure of, given recent events involving magic, angry Wiccans, and souls.

Passions? Ohhh.

"I like the show," he said. "Sod off, then."

Spike backed up, considering. This guy had no idea what he was, at all. None. He could feel it. He sighed, heavily, and looked up at the ceiling as though for help. Help was never comin', not from up there, anyway.

"Right. I'm your neighbor. Spike. There's your introduction. Could you turn the music down to a lighter volume, please, I'm trying to watch 'Passions.'"

He smirked triumphantly. If this guy started on the name, he would bleed him dry.

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i_amjustjack
2008-02-28 03:29 am UTC (link)

“Correction,” Jack said, turning is back momentarily as if he was going to skulk back into his apartment and slam the door. “God shouldn't ever have to go down to a reasonable volume.” There, take that. Cher should not have to be restrained. Never and not ever.

Then, the guy introduced himself properly and Jack McFarland turned back around to face him with a speed that would make even the most hyper of ADHD children dizzy. His palm was extended a second later toward Spike, but not with nearly enough length to allow him a chance to take it. “Jack McFarland: actor, singer, dancer, talk show host of 'Just Jack' and 'Jack Talk'” With each of these, his hands moved up quickly, fingers splaying wide and wriggling in Jazz Hand glory. “And everything else I didn't have room on my business card for. Nice to meetcha.”

He smiled, he giggled and above all, he was fabulous. Jack McFarland was never anything other than fabulous. But.. Spike. Spike, his name was Spike?

“So, what's with the verb-name? Because I'm assuming you're not all spikey like... pointy in parts...” His eyes trailed down toward Spike's waist and beyond. “Nounish... must be a verb, like Sting.”

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i_wannadance
2008-02-28 04:53 am UTC (link)

Bloody hell. Was there not room on that business card for 'thundering looney?'

What a piece of work. "Charmed," Spike said. The delivery was perfect, deadpan. He would kill to be smoking right now. Really kill. But the cigarettes were in the apartment. That meant this had to get cut off, and soon.

Spikey like pointy in parts?

Spike smiled, very slowly. It was a predator's smile. "Some parts," he answered. He laughed, a low, roiling laugh from the gut that purred out of his throat.

Spike. As in railroad. Did no one know their history anymore?

"Yeah. Guess it's a verb, now that I think about it."

He shook his head, not believing that he'd just said that. He walked away for a minute and came back holding cigarettes and a lighter, removing a cigarette from the pack and dangling it from his lips.

"Care for a fag, mate?" he asked, starting to light the thing. He realized as he flicked the flame into life why that was funny and did his best not to laugh.

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i_amjustjack
2008-03-02 11:33 pm UTC (link)

Jack did a single take, then a double take, then just one more for good measure. Care for a what? Spike didn't say... didn't ask for... did he? “Care for a fag, mate?” Did that mean something different in British, because if such a question was asked if any number of prominent clubs in New York it would get the same reaction.

Not immediately connecting the reference to Spike's cigarette, Jack raised his eyebrows. “You have one? I mean,” his hands flared just a bit, waggling out to the side in confusion. “I mean, other than moi.” Maybe this crazy guy did have a brother he was willing to... have educated in the rites of the 'Mo's.

This was pleasing and intriguing.

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i_wannadance
2008-03-04 09:00 pm UTC (link)

Spike inhaled, and the end of the cigarette smouldered into life. He laughed, and it was more like a snort, and smoke came out both nostrils.

"Americans," he said, sighing with contempt. "Got a pack of 'em," he continued smirking. "Right here in my pocket. Bollocks. This is too easy. Brush up on your UK slang, yeah?"

He smirked. "That..." Both eyebrows raised, and he pulled the cigarette away from where it had bobbed as he moved his lips, ".... and keep the music down if it's on repeat. We'll get along......."

Not well.
Nope.

"... as much as I can sodding stand it."

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