Chapter Text
The mornings at the Gorillaz residence varied from uneventful to completely chaotic, and never fell anywhere between the two in the spectrum. Uneventful mornings usually saw Murdoc out of the house or in the garage, and the other band members doing normal, functional things like eating breakfast or preparing to go out for the day. Chaotic mornings were usually any time that Murdoc was in the house without enough beer in him yet (he was easiest to deal with when drunk), and either ended up with Stuart adding more bruises to his collection or the fire department called. Was there a frequent flyer program for firefighters or noise complaints? Russel would need to look into that.
It was Saturday, and a day nobody needed to be anywhere in particular, no things needed to be discussed, and no recordings that needed to be completed. Outside, it was cool, but not unpleasant, and it had been raining on and off for most of the morning. So far, it looked to be a morning on the pleasant side. Not the increasingly common 'there are spirits living in the furnace and the oven is on fire' type of morning.
Stuart awoke to his alarm blaring some sickeningly cheery pop station, and flailed his arm out from under his duvet, knocking into the clock radio harshly. The severely dented and scraped electronic slid off of the night stand and onto the carpet, unplugging the cord and rendering it silent in the process. He allowed his arm to flop bonelessly down, hitting the side of the bed with a muffled noise, and snuggled deeper into the nest of covers. He didn't feel like getting up just yet, though the rational and more awake part of his mind told him that the headache he felt beginning to surface would only get full blown unless he got up and took his medication. He really needed to pee too. Was that burning he smelled coming from downstairs? Ok, maybe he ought to get up.
Rising out of bed with the grace of a zombie that had been hit by Murdoc one too many times, he slid out of bed and made his way to the bathroom down the hall, adding bruises to his arms as he hit them off the walls in his half awake state. There was a definite smell in the air as if something had been burnt, but really, there were three other people in the house who were surely more awake than him. They could handle it. After closing the door and emptying his bladder, he reached in the vanity to look for his pills, not bothering to wash his hands. His search came up with no results, the cupboard only holding lube, tampons, toothpaste, a razor, and a toothbrush that looked like it had been in there for a year. Definitely not his, he took care of his remaining teeth thank you very much. He couldn't really afford to lose any more.
Shutting the cupboard and shuffling back to his room in his underwear, he tried to remember where his pills were, throwing on a shirt and a pair of jeans he had been wearing for a week straight that he had left on the floor. He knew that he had more, as he had gone himself to fill his prescriptions not a week before, as he had managed to get a drivers licence. He was very proud of that. What was he supposed to remember again?
Letting his brain wonder, he tucked his phone into his jean pocket and walked down the stairs down the hall, the floor boards screaming their protest, but not nearly as loudly as the screaming coming from the kitchen. Oh yeah, something was burnt, wasn't it?
"It's not my bloody fault that tha toaster is a jackass! Useless piece of shit I tell yah, shit! Look at it, can't even toast. What does that make it, huh? A toastless?"
"Good mornin' Muds!"
"Unh, "good mornin' Muds", yeah right yah dullard. Good fuckin' mornin' to yah too!" Murdoc mimics 2-D in a whiny, grating voice, and rips the toaster cord from the wall, throwing the appliance at the unsuspecting housemate before making a noise like a cat from the animal abuse awareness commercial that Stuart always hid from. It was a sad commercial. The toaster, which was previously on fire and still scorching hot, flew across the room and hit Stuart in the face, who screamed and panicked, backed into the table, and spilled hot coffee all over the floor. The toaster landed on the floor with a crash, and landed in the coffee, splashing the liquid up Russel's nice pants.
Murdoc, less concerned with his burnt palms and more concerned with getting his hands around the singers neck (who was to blame for Murdoc burning himself in his mind, of course), determinedly trudged through the coffee, and went to beat the everliving shit out of the blue haired man, who was shuffling backwards across the tile to escape.
"Faaaaceacheee"
"I didn't mean ta, I swear! I-I didn't mean it! 'm sorry!" Stuart was in a complete panic, and he felt like he was going to vomit. It was all his fault! He had made Murdoc hurt himself and ruined Russels pants, but he still feared being hit even though he deserved it. He was scared too, as the toaster had hit him right in the eye, and it hurt so badly he felt tears prick at his eyes. In the eye he could see out of, as he kept the injured one screwed shut, he saw Russel blocking Murdoc's way, and was yelling something at him. Stuart couldn't hear however, as his ears were ringing loudly and a migraine had began.
Noodle was in the background now, stomping into the room, and while the blue haired singer was relieved to see her, as he knew she wouldn't allow him to be hurt, at the same moment Murdoc snarled and pushed Russel to the side a bit, which was no easy feat due to their vastly different sizes, and came charging over to him. He was picked up harshly by the collar, and and the last thing he saw before he hit the tile was a green, steadily approaching fist.