FicWad

I eventually kick them both out, after discussing if I need a haircut. If anyone needs a haircut, it’s Jim. He ties it back in a ponytail, that’s how long it is.
I shut the door, and lean against the doorframe. I try searching for that radio station again, but I can’t find it.
I’m still tired. Lindsey’s right, I have been staying up too late. Or maybe I just have narcolepsy. I, Dexter, A.I. program with an affliction for girl’s makeup, have narcolepsy.
Yeah, that fits.
So I could either go to sleep. or...

I dig out my makeup case from under my bed. I wear more eyeliner than usual, it wings out from the corners of my eyes like a fish. Eyeshadow or no? Well..maybe a bit. Grey? Sure. Goes with everything. I decide against lipstick, because it rolled off somewhere under my bed. I don’t wear lip gloss. Gross. What do you take me for?

Normal boys aren’t like this. Normal boys don’t worry about lip gloss versus lipstick.
Screw normal.
I wander out, not really going anywhere in particular. I wish I could see the stars. Stars would be nice. There’s so much pollution in the air, so no stars tonight. Or ever.
I switch my Spyder feed to radio, and try to find the song I heard earlier. Sift through radio stations for twenty minutes. No luck. Oh well.
I switch my Spyder feed off. So this is what it’s like to be human. No noise.
A boy and a girl cross the street in front of me. The boy glares at me, stuck between distrust of a boy in makeup and hate that I’m staring at his girl’s ass.
I wink at him, because the boy by himself isn’t that bad, sort of hot, but damn, that’s a nice girl he got there.
Meh. It’s probably his sister.

But yeah, I have to do my job. I’m supposed to tattle. Ergo, I must find people to tattle upon.
A lot of people hang out at hole in the wall houses like this, to listen to music, drink and talk about things I really don’t care about.
A girl with bleached hair comes over to me.
“Heey...you’re wearing eyeliner! Like a girl! Are you a girl?”
“Nah. Sorry. You got a name?”
“I’m Tiara.”
“That’s a nice name. I’m Dexter.”
Tiara laughs, and she smelled like beer. She’s wasted, just trashed drunk. She probably won’t remember me tomorrow.
“Soo...Sexy eyeliner Dexter boy...wanna make out?”
Ah, the perks of the job.
“Sure!”
~*~
Tiara, predictably, tastes like booze. Yum. But, unfortunately, I have a job to do.
“Hey, wanna go outside?”
You perverts. I heard that.
“Shurre thing, Dextor!” Tiara slurs, and drags me off. We go back behind the Hole in the wall house, and Tiara pulls me closer.
“No, wait.”
“Wait for what?”
For you to say something incriminating. “I dunno.”
Tiara’s lips collide with mine again. She lets me put my hands all over her ass.
“Tiara, wait, stop it.”
“Do you, like, want me to bite or something?”
“Uh. No. Not right now. Perhaps later. but listen, I gotta tell you-”
“Oh-Em-Gee! Are you gay!?”
“NO! I work for the government!” I try to keep my voice down. “Well, Darwin, what do you do?” Tiara asks, and giggles. Yes, she calls me Darwin. I don't care.
“I work for the government and help them arrest people who speak against them.”

The light goes out of Tiara’s eyes.
“Fuck you.”
“Tiara-”
“You’re a goddamn monster!” Tiara shoves me back, and I bang my head on the back of the house. Tiara storms off, tipping sideways and muttering angrily.
I don’t call after her. I didn’t want to turn her in. She’s a mess, but she’s pretty. I didn’t want to her in because she’s drunk, because she agreed to make out with me, because I’m not even sure if I want to do this.

I switch my Spyder feed back on. The hum of static is almost comforting.

Running transcripts....
Who’s pinging me? Stupid idiotic son of a-
Korse: DEXTER. YOU ARE COMING TO BETTER LIVING INDUSTRIES TOMORROW MORNING AT TEN.
Son of a...boss.
Dexter: Sure thing. See you later.

{Korse_Boss_ping_timeout.}
Dexter: I am just screwed, aren’t I?
{Dexter_2246890_ping_timeout.}

Ten o’clock is ungodly early, especially since it’s already close to midnight. And I won’t get to sleep for another two hours. WOE IS ME! Nah, I’m kidding, Jk and all that shit.
Get home, talk to air like there’s a person here with me. Take off shoes, and sleep in my clothes. I heard somewhere that men who sleep in their clothes are untrustworthy.
Accurate.

I get another dream, but this one’s different. It’s disturbing.
Because Lindsey’s in it.

Lindsey and I are married. What? WHAT? Lindsey....she’s like my sister. Sound the incest alarm! Help!
Her hands are all over me, and I can’t do this. Because it’s...Lindsey. Do I have feelings for Lindsey? What is this?
Oh my God, I love her. My Lindsey.
I can’t wake up. I’m never gonna be able to look Lindsey in the face again.
And then the baby.
We had a baby?!? WHAT?!?!

Wait...this could be Gerard. Gerard could’ve married Lindsey’s match before she kicked it.
That is wicked physics at work.
What happened to the baby?
Cancer too late couldn’t stop it wasted away lost hair tears gone baby gone....
Two. Two. Four. Six. Eight. Nine. Zero.
Band broke up so sad too bad America blew up baby lost...
Two. Two. Four. Six. Eight. Nine. Zero. I keep hearing numbers, my serial number. What happened to that baby either I or Gerard had?
Lindsey got cancer in her lungs ate her from the inside out ate a path to her brain and she died so fast gone baby gone.
Bandit. Her name was Bandit.