Pete Wisdom is saving the world...from itself. (mister_wisdom) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-06-17 17:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, neena thurman (domino), pete wisdom, romany wisdom |
"Won't the Church of Satan miss its leader?"
Who: Domino, Romany Wisdom, Petey Wisdom
What: A great, unnatural evil arrives on Domino's doorstep. And it brought luggage.
When: Yesterdayish, after Domino's adventures in Moira's laboratory!
Where: Domino's apartment.
Rating: PG13 for language.
Status: Complete!
Pete had gotten Domino home and into bed, and was proceeding to - not only make her comfortable? - but also to destroy her flat by putting things in the wrong places, make messes, and generally smoke and spill and scuff the place up. For that is what Petes do, when they live in places. They make it look very, very, very lived in. He was currently in the kitchen, poking at a skillet full of big sausages with a fork, and scraping off any coating with it too as he cooked at higher than average temps. Just so grease spattered and because he thinks it makes things cook faster. There is a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and the ash is a mile long.
"...Oi! You want bangers an' mash, Dommy?" so asks Pete, and somehow that ash has not fallen. Yet. Big, huge yet.
From the bedroom, Dom tried to shout out a "NO!". It didn't really come out as loud as she wanted it to, but she hoped he heard it anyway. The entire thought of him cooking anything on her stove, especially sausages, made her skin want to crawl right off of her body. Her apartment was a mess - she'd seen it on her way through to the bedroom - and she was stuck in a bed, unable to even watch or control the chaos. It was like torture. She curled up in a ball and tried to will today back into yesterday.
"Are you certain? These look like really bloody good bangers and I 'aven't even started the onion gravy yet...or the mash..shite, I forgot the mash," as that was the instant part of the meal. "Bugger it all. You want chips? I'm going t'mash up chips into mash!"
The mess would be extraordinary. Half of it would be glued to the top of the stove and...there goes the ash, right onto the edge of the skillet and onto the stove, so it kind of hit both. Pete stared down at it with a blank expression, one shoulder twitched upward, and then he scraped the fork over the inside of the pan, just to mix the ashy flavor in.
"Yes, I'm certain," Dom mumbled, from her curled-up-ball-nest. Life was cruel and unfair and Pete had made her sick and all of this was his fault. She was totally going to die. She was almost certain of it, especially since her butt was sore and when she'd checked there were 5 bandaids. FIVE. If you need 5 shots, that's pretty bad. "Do not want. Eat it all yourself. Thanks."
Petey's phone rang. It was an ominous sound, that spelled dread. As though a ghost was walk walk walking across Pete Wisdom's grave. It was an ominous mariachi sound. Romany was calling. She was, in fact, standing outside the door to Domino's flat, lugging two sets of luggage. She wore a multicolored skirt and a beaded shirt, and there were beads in her long dark hair. She wasn't wearing any knickers. As to how she found out about the place? Well Robert -aka Fat Bastard- have proven instrumental. She always knew shagging him and helping his mum would prove fruitful!
"Are you absolutely certain b'fore I throw the frozen chips into boilin' water...oh, 'old on there." He stopped what he was doing, flicking the cigarette butt toward the sink where it landed with a sizzle, grease popping all over the stovetop, and answered his ominous phone with his usual cheerful goodnatured demeanor, "Wisdom, 'ere. Wot the fuuuuuuuck do you want?"
Domino heard his phone ringing and a shudder of ice crept down her spine. Her day was about to get worse somehow. She just knew.
Romany's voice came through the phone, all sunshine cheer and dry humour, "Duck, could y'open t'door? I just got 'ere an' I'm waitin' outside."
"The door t'where, precisely?" Pete asked his sister over the phone, in the sort of tone that hinted yelling was going to happen. His voice began to increase in volume and intensity. "The door to WHERE? WHERE?! WHERE ARE YOU?! WOT DID YOU DO? WOT DID YOU DO!"
Noooo, it couldn't be. Pete went scrambling for a pack of cigarettes and lit one up, stopped and thought, held the phone between his ear and his shoulder, and lit ANOTHER one up. He then muttered loudly into the phone. "Won't the Church of Satan miss its leader, if yer in southern California? That has it...I'm calling the Pope an' siccing him on you."
"To some bird named Thurman's flat, y'dunce." Romany shifted the bags in her hands, glad she'd invested in a bluetooth headset. With all the driving and dancing naked she did, it made talking on the phone a snap! So she had it on. Everywhere.
How did she know? Pete wondered that as he narrowly avoided dropping the phone and hitting the cigarettes, when the palm of his hand met his forehead. He was convinced his sis really was the devil, and that the devil never wore knickers, and that thought made him puke a little in his mouth. In fact, he hung up. Maybe if he was quiet, then she'd think she had the wrong place, and she'd go away and not try to pick the locks using magic and lockpicks...and magic lockpicks.
That was his plan, so he ran as quietly as he could to the back bedroom and closed the door, leaning against it and making a shhhhh noise at Dom. With a lit cigarette in each hand, for effect.
"What in the--" she started, then caught his shh noise and lowered her voice, while creeeping out of her bed to crawl over to him. Slowly. Hand over hand, on the floor. When she got to where he was, she curled up next to him, and stole one of the cigarettes out of his hand. Then she started again, in a whisper, "What in the hell are you doing? Aren't there things cooking on the stove?"
Romany knocked on the door. Twice. When there was no response, she put down her luggage, and reached into her bra. Out came a set of lockpicks, and she bent over to get to work. One of the few useful things their father ever taught them.
"Shhhhh," he said very very softly, like they were surrounded by slumbering babies that were not really babies, but disguised bombs that were sound activated. "If the flat burns down...we'll climb out the window an' escape. There's great evil outside yer door. Great, tarty evil. And it wants in."
"Do I need guns?" Dom looked around the room, making a mental list of where all the weapons were hiding and trying to decide which one was the most conveniently located.
Three locks down, four to go. This Thurman bird must be really paranoid. Perfect for her Petey. Romany finished lock number four, and wiped her brow. Really. This was starting to get ridiculous!
Perfect for nothing, because they were friends former coworkers for fuck's sake! Pete looked frantic for a moment, his eyes skimming around the room for anything that might ward off evil. Nothing? Really? Wait! Noodle night. Thanks to his lack of cleaning skills, Pete reached over into his old container of half eaten noodles which had degraded into slush in spicy broth, and drew out the chopsticks. He clamped the cigarette in his mouth, held them into the sign of the cross, and grumbled to Domino, "She'll try to put fertility hexes an' shite on you...and matchmaking...it's buggered and fecked up...she won't take 'just coworkers' for an answer...if she keeps it up, threaten t'shoot her or she'll put daisies into the barrel of yer guns."
"... I'm getting guns," came Domino's whispered reply to that. Then she went crawling around to her TV-stand nearby, pressed a button, and pulled out a pair of pistols. She quietly slid the clips in, checked the safeties, and crawled back over to Pete, then slumped a bit against him. The cigarette she stole was now in her mouth, and she was smoking it like a choochoo. Pete's habits were starting to wash off on her.
The last lock clicked open, and the door swung out, with a long, high pitched creeking sound. It was straight out of a horror movie. Romany pulled her luggage inside, and closed the door behind her, "Petey, get your rubby ducky knickered arse out 'ere an' give yeh sister a hug!"
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Pete said under his breath, like he was praying for once in his entire life, for divine intervention. He eyed Dom for a moment and said something about 'that's my sister' under his breath like it was the name of some demon spawn to be reckoned with. "I've got the cross, it'll fend her off, so you can get back into bed. If she offers you anything...anything....even a feather...say no. Do you understand? SAY. NO. I'll go out. It might distract her. If it doesn't...smile, nod, don't answer any questions, she'll use it against you."
Domino blinked her eyes at him, unsure why it is that a man would talk about their own sister like that. But she'd heard some stories, too, and she'd never met Romany herself. "I'm not moving. You need backup," she finally said, stubbornly, "But I won't answer questions or ... take anything, or anything like that. God, it's like she's the Devil or something."
Romany could hear voices. She made her way down the hall, and towards the bedroom, where the whisper was coming from, "Fee Fi Foe Fum, I smell t'blood of a wanker!"
"Oh bugger off, would you?!" With one last drag off the cigarette before he spit it out into the old noodle container, Pete nodded to Domino and then opened the door. He held out the chopsticks out at arm's length, saying with conviction, "The power of Christ compells you! Away demon, away! Take your unnatural knickerless tart arse back to whence thou came, you understand? Back to London with you! Good day!"
Behind him, still curled up on the floor, was Domino, with both pistols aimed through Pete's legs at Romany's ... feet. Somehow, that was still threatening! Just in case! She totally had his back while he exorcised his sister from her apartment. Some part of her was also extremely concerned by the level of security she now didn't have in this apartment. She was going to need to change house again, but that could wait until after she wasn't dying.
"Oh bugger off. I brought me chicken soup." She stood in the doorway, in all her colorful glory, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the scene. She didn't bother to cushion her words, "I pulled the cards on yeh, Petey. They don't look good. So 'ere I am."
Pete froze, squinting at his sister for a long, tense, silent moment. With a suddenly abrupt pffft noise, he threw both the chopsticks over his shoulders, behind him. Hopefully they didn't hit Domino, but then, he supposed, that made sense. His sisters cards were, even if she was the devil, uncannily accurate. She probably used metaphysics to track down where he was also, because he certainly didn't tell Fat Bastard where he was. And if Fat Bastard ratted him out, then no way was he going to do him any more favors, besides phoning him up and yelling at him, lots. "It's not that shite that keeps popping up when you read cards on me, is it? Please tell me it's happening soon. And if I eat your soup, then it'll be introducing your evil in with me own evil, and the two shouldn't mix. It'd be combustible."
"I can't say what it is exactly, but t'last time it was this bad, mum got shot. So here I am." Romany folded her arms, immovable. Like a rock.
One of the chopsticks landed on Dom's knee, but there wasn't any harm done, really. They weren't exactly that pointy, and would have made really inadequate vampire defense. They were lucky that Romany wasn't a vampire. She was fresh out of holy water, and Garlic. The card talk flew right over her head, like the other chopstick had done. "In my apartment. Which I don't want. So get out." There, that settled that.
"...well, you can't stay...here...in...this land...state...country. You need t'go home." Pete just waved a hand at Domino like it was all right, they could humor the evil for a moment, or - at least - he was going to try to reason with it. "I'll be going back t'London the moment this case is all sorted, all right? I'll meet you there, you can sprinkle salt on me again, pluck me aura and say it's mucky, and...fun times had by all. Sound good?"
"Too late," Romany replied, cheerily. She eyed Domino, "The feng shui in this place is way off. I'll take care o'that for yeh."
"NO. No. You will not. You won't touch ANYTHING IN MY HOUSE. I'm tired of all this ... you people ... Wisdoms, messing up my things and leaving all kinds of ... chaos and ties and taking me to doctors to get 5 shots, FIVE SHOTS FOR ALLERGIES and NO ONE IS TOUCHING ANYTHING." Dom punctuated her little rage-fit by flapping her arms and scrunching up her brow, which meant that the pistols in her hands were also getting flapped around. Thank goodness the safeties were on both of them.
Thank goodness. Although it was then that Pete noticed the air looked hazy and things smelled of smoke, enough that he tilted his head like he was trying to remember something once vaguely important....
"Oh shiiiiiite." He went running to save his sausages, or what bitter remains of them there were. In fact, they were very much like charcoal on one side. Or ninety percent of it. Nevertheless, he turned off the heat and threw open a window, flapping both arms around while he was talking.
"You. Thurman, are ill. I'm not abandoning you, b'cos I owe you. You, Romany, are fucking nutters. Do not touch Thurman's things. And you're on the couch. We'll find a flat, you're getting it in your name, two bedrooms, and then Thurman can have some peace and clean the edges of her floor with a toothbrush dipped in bleach. Thurman, back t'bed. Leave the door open in case she needs t'be shot. All settled? All settled. Good."
He really needed to eat something, so he stabbed his charcoal sausage with a fork and blew on it to cool it off.
Romany shook her head, chuckling to herself, "Good thing for yeh I already ordered take out. It should be 'ere in about ten minutes. Petey always ruins breakfast, when 'e tries t'cook. Generally, 'e's a lot like a dog, 'elpless on 'is own an' stuck eatin' 'is own shite."
Obviously, aside from mission-critical time, Domino had problems adapting to new and unplanned changes in her day to day life. She sat there for a bit, staring at Pete with his fork-stabbed sausage, still feeling like screaming inside over all of the chaos happening in her domain. Eventually though, she realised how exhausting it was to be that upset, and started crawling back to bed, with two pistols in her hand and a dying cigarette hanging from her mouth. Which had already ashed all over her shirt. "Couch ... fine... no re-arranging anything. Everything is in its right place, damn it..." she mumbled to herself, while curling back up into a ball.
"Wait, I take it back," Pete growled, like he was ready to strangle his sister, "shoot her. Shoot her. Now."
Romany? Was going to feng shui the SHIT out of this flat.
She grinned at her brother, as the doorbell rang, "Oh! They're 'ere early. Won't be bangers an' mash, but no one in their right mind wants Petey's bangers n' mash. The cooked ones or the dangly bits between 'is legs." Grinning, she headed to the door, to take care of the take out.
"Are you sure you want me to--" Dom cut herself off as the doorbell rang. No one in their right mind shot anyone while the takeout man was there to act as a witness.
Following after his sister, Pete was glaring at her back and already growling viciously like a cornered animal, "You tart. Don't touch a thing in here. I'm dead serious. She's very particular. She has that obsessive...arranging...orderliness buggery shite. Got it? She needs t'get better, not worse. I swear, you are already on me last nerve. Shut it. SHUT. It. No more. No more comments about me bits. Do not tell us about your summer shag fest through the festivals. None of it. Understood?"
"It's all wrong, Petey! No wonder she's ill. An' yeh too!" Romany pointed towards the living room, "That 'ole room is a mess an yeh know it. I can have 'er sleepin' in peace after jus' ten minutes in there!"
If Dom was Fluttershy, she'd be low-pitched screaming right now. Sadly, Dom wasn't Fluttershy. She wasn't going to scream, either, and really had no internal or external way of coping with all of this other than shooting things. That wasn't an option, either, and she put her guns down before someone got hurt. Instead, she pulled the covers up over her head and started disassembling and re-assembling guns in her head.
It's all right. Pete was intent on solving this right now, delivery person overhearing, or not. He really didn't care. He jabbed his finger into Romany's shoulder while he spoke, to put emphasis on important points.
"She'll sleep just fine. Stoppit. I will...I’ll stab your eyes out with this fork. Then I will try to get it jabbed into your brain, as far as I can get it. You think I'm not serious? I'm serious. Guests. Temporary. Until she's well. So please? Mind your bloody fucking god damn manners for once." Pot calling the kettle black there, innit? "We'll talk about this more t'morrow while she's resting. Got it? Now wot'd you order. It'd better go well with scotch because I am entirely too sober for this shite."
See? He's dual wielding. Pointy finger and fork. Beware. He's angry enough on a regular basis to try it.
Romany grabbed Pete's arm, and pulled him closer. She hissed, her voice low, her expression iron, "Peter Winston Wisdom, yeh will listen t'me and yeh will listen good. There will be bad shite. An' it will be soon. Do yeh understand? The cards 'aven't been wrong before. I'm not goin' t'lose yeh. Not again."
Aww, dammit. She pulled the really much older than him, big sister card. And considering their family life was shit to begin with, it had...kind of...fallen on Romany to give him those important talking to's sometimes, when he needed them most. Which was the precise reason his chin was lowered, his eyebrows were doing that angrily knit together deep in thought thing, his lips were pursed slightly, and he was staring off to one side...instead of at her.
After a long moment of dark, moody silence, Pete grumbled under his breath, "Well you didn't have t'be a bitch about it."
"I love yeh too, Petey. Now, lets get t'food settled out, an' I brought some presents for yeh bird friend type person, that I 'ope she enjoys." The Smut Fairy, delivers!
The bird friend type person just sort of grunted, from her bed-nest.
"No. No presents. Nothing kinky. For fuck's sake Romany, she's a former coworker...you don't go running about with family members showing up and giving people perverted presents. It's fucking unnatural," he tried to point out to her, like maybe he could appeal to reason. It worked sometimes. He let the mushy love you go by making a face at her of the eww variety. "Lay off, all right?"
Romany nodded her head. She'd give Neena the gun shaped vibrator another time. After all, if she was a former co-worker of Petey's, she had to like guns, right? If only she knew "'ere, get this to the bird, an' I'll set the table." Like Pete Wisdom knew how to eat at a set table anymore.
Not sure what it was he was being given, Pete gave it a looking over before he took the take away container back to Neena. Simply to make sure there was no weird mystical things she'd try to slip into it, or little statuettes that Domino might swallow and curse her, from the inside out. He might - somewhere underneath all of the grumpy exterior - also look apologetic. So much so that - as he handed it to her - he said under his breath so the devil couldn't hear, "We'll be out as soon as possible. It won't take her long. She'll shag some poor bastard and get the rent cut in half, then you can get some real rest without your home bein' bloody invaded like this."
Dom pulled the covers off of her head and sat up a bit to take the container away from him. She actually felt guilty for going off on the both of them like that, which was really, really awkward for her. She couldn't really smell what the food was, so she took a look in the container. Probably to double check that Romany wasn't somehow poisoning her.
"... I'm not handling this all very well, but ... I didn't mean to yell like that. You know I didn't mind you here. Take the time you need, It's fine." She squinted a bit, and added with a lower voice, "You can't be looking forward to living with her for real."
"Needs must when the devil drives. I'll have to make sure nothing happens to her now." It was his younger brother responsibility. "At least until I can get her the hell out of here. Apparently summat is going on though, so...I'll have to get it sussed out. I can pop over here if I need t'breathe." At least that way, too, he wouldn't have his own address. It would be harder to find him, if anyone was looking. No one had, thus far. Other than Miss Ninja DoorKicker, but that...wasn't going to happen again. And he's not looking moody at the thought. Or he is. But he'll cover it up in three, two, one...
"Just...bugger off and eat your...wotever that is." He gave her hair a light ruffling with one hand and said, "I'll take some meds an' pass out, after I shovel food in me mouth. Sound good?"
"Only if I get to take some meds and pass out, too." she said, grumpily. Then she glanced in Romany's direction, and frowned. Worry wrinkles collected on her forehead, in fact, "She isn't going to touch my stuff while we're both passed out, is she? I think I'd really die a little inside."
"I'm not going to touch anything!" Romany shouted from the kitchen, as if on cue!
"I'll kill her if she does. Fine. I won't kill her. But she'll get a harsh talking at," he promised. "It'll be fine, Thurman. You need to rest. Deal with the cleaning later." For it will be epic.
Domino didn't know how resting was possible in a house this messy, and not one but two wisdoms in it, one of which sounded like she was going to leave hexes behind on her furniture or something, just for laughs. She tried to look at Pete and get him to understand that by just a look, but eventually failed and just dug into her food. Because the faster she ate it, the faster she could take meds, pass out, and go off into blissful sleep land where things were never this crazy. Oh Dom, if only you knew
Romany would have to feng shui the place, subtly. Like a feng shui guerilla fighter.
Pete wouldn't notice, but Domino surely would. He shrugged a little at the look he'd gotten, tried to smirk, failed miserably because his face couldn't manage that too much or too often anymore, and retreated out to his silent doom meal with his sister. So he too could eat, take meds, and pass out.