This story contains swearing, sexual descriptions and triggering content. Please respect the 18+.
Please read 'My Fucking Smooth Criminal' before you start on this one. Or at least read the resume.
Also: Starting to write this, I have no idea what will happen, so I'm just as curious as you are about which stupid situations Gail and Michael will get themselves into. The only thing I do know, is that it will be something out of the ordinary. So....
"Oh, for Pete's sake! What the hell are you doing?! You just couldn't go one whole day without trying to kill yourself...? You know, there are a lot of other, and more efficient, ways to do it. We've got that gun of yours in your nightstand, remember? And your imaginary drug addiction could always help you on the way. Or you can just run around in the middle of the highway, trying to get run over by a truck. But with your fascinating ability to fail in almost everything you do, you'd probably have to get a job as road surface marking, to pull that off."
"But Missy, I was just trying to..."
"To what? Find out if the stairs were soft?"
"No. But the light bulb..."
"Forget about the fucking light bulb! I'm trying to find a way out of this misery, and I would appreciate some help from you. And I'm not talking about light bulb-changing help, Joe. I'm talking about finding a decent place to live, where we don't have mutant rats as house pets."
"It's not a mutant rat! His name is Ben!" he pouted, slightly offended.
"Yeah, whatever. He's ugly. Period."
I visibly cringed at the thought of Joe's furry friend that used to sneak around in the living room. I never figured out where it got in or out, so I could block the way, but I knew that if there was one, it's family was probably not far away.
"I need someone to... You know, make things happen? Where is Mr. Jackson when I need him?! He would've fixed this misery in no time."
"But I am Mr. Jackson! Even though I prefer that you call me... Well, Joe. I've sort of gotten used to that now."
You need to find a way to trigger Mr. Jackson to the surface, Gail. Seriously. Maybe you can try some more of that torture you did with Don Juan? I mean, it's worth a shot? But then... Look at him, Gail. Joe could never handle any more torture than a ladybug.
"Read my lips, you dipshit of an imbecile! You are not Mr. Jackson! You're nowhere near to be helpful. And if you don't wrap your shit together, then I'm personally gonna make you fall down the stairs again! With passion! And then, maybe, if I let you lay there long enough, you'd probably succeed in bleeding to death. Oh, no! I forgot. You can't succeed! In anything! You're useless! But I probably shouldn't give you advices in ways to commit suicide, because right now I'm having major problems to avoid killing you myself. You know... I can just hit your head a little bit. With the refrigerator! Why on Earth did you think it was clever to use a goddamn ladder on the stairs, Joe? I swear to God, you should have had a fucking warning sign on your forehead, to keep your surroundings safe from you!"
"I-I'm s-sorry, Missy. I was just trying to be a little handy and change the light bulb, and..."
"...and then you fell down the stairs. Yeah, I noticed, dumbass. Now will you pick yourself up and go sit down somewhere safe, and wait for me to come and bubble wrap you and put a helmet on your head? You don't just hurt yourself, you know."
You also hurt Michael, Mr. Jackson, Geeksy and Don Juan. I won't miss the last asshead, but I still haven't accomplished to fuck Geeksy's brains out, and boy would I like to do that! There was something incredibly kinky about that guy.
"Uhmm, what? I don't underst..."
"You don't need to understand, dickhead. Heck, you hardly know up and down on yourself. Now shut your trap and get your ass inside. I need you in one piece for our wedding."
"You were serious about that? I thought you were just kidding."
"Hell yeah, I'm serious!"
I glared at him, wishing that for once his personalities could communicate with each other.
"Since when did we agree on that?" he blurted out, instantly regretting what he said.
"N-not that I wouldn't mind! You're the hottest lady I know of, and I still can't believe we..."
His cheeks flushed beet red, and he ate his last words.
"What? That we fucked? Yeah, we did. We do that quite often, actually. You just don't participate. You know. Mentally."
I put the ladder away and shook my head.
"Why did you want to change the light bulb anyways? This shitplace of an apartment is about to fall down on our heads soon no matter what anyone does, and a freaking lightbulb is the last thing we need to care about! How the hell do we get money?! We're broke as fuck, and the last time we ate was yesterday when we stole our neighbour's apple pie."
A wide smirk spread across Joe's face.
"Yeeeaaah. That was some good pie too."
"Forget the damn pie! Move!"
I shoved Joe over to the couch and checked if he had any injuries, but except from what was going to be a couple of bruises, he was fine.
I sighed and sat down in front of him, with his hands in mine.
"Look, can you just help me find a way out of this? And try to avoid doing it the Joe-way, okay? You see, falling down stairs and stuff is not helping. Not a tiny bit! Now, go get ready."
"But I don't want to go there anymore!"
I knew he hated his job, and wanted to quit, but it was the only income we had right now.
"I know, Joe! But you have to, because if you don't, we're gonna starve to death! It's not my fault that our money got wet when we had to swim to get away from the submarine. Besides, it's less suspicious to pay with pesos instead of dollars."
Joe pouted like three year old, and I chuckled internally.
"But it's not my fault either! And as much as I want to be a gentleman, I really don't want to go down there again. Please, Missy? Can't we just f..."
"Yes, we will find something else to do, but as of today this is all we got. Now go put on your uniform."
I shushed him into the bathroom to change clothes, and mentally prepared myself to be able to keep it together when he was done. I was always a sucker for men in uniforms, but this was Joe.
"This is seriously..." I heard him mumble something that for me was incoherent, and I bit my tongue when I heard the bathroom door opened.
"Shut up," he muttered, before I said anything. And I tried. I honestly tried, but the sight of him, dressed in a fluffy, pink sheep costume was just too much. Seconds later, I hung over the kitchen counter, laughing so hard I could barely stand on my feet.
"I swear I would rather fall down the stairs ten times a day, than being forced to walk around dressed like this!"
"BAAHAHAHAAA!" I roared, sounding more like a choked donkey, than a sheep, like I tried to.
"Will you stop it?! This was old three weeks ago!"
He was right. It totally was. But it was still funny as fuck!
"But Joe, you need to understand... Uhm... I... I forgot what you were supposed to understand. But this will never get too old to laugh at. You're just too cute!"
I pinched his cheek, and watched his face turn slightly red.
"And when you're done for today, meet me at 'Quisintos'."
He raised one eyebrow and squinted at me.
"We haven't got money to buy food, and you're planning to go out on a club?"
"Did you have other plans, pretty boy?"
"No," he said and pouted.
I gently grabbed his chin between my thumb and index finger, tilted his head up a bit, and gave him a long, passionate kiss to cheer him up.
"Mmmoohhh..." he moaned, and I saw his eyes roll back for a moment. I'll give him that. He's pretty easy to distract. And why not take advantage of that now and then? Like tight now? So I grabbed his bulge and stroked him with my palm.
"If you're a good boy, you'll get more of this tonight. Okay? Now put your head on."
Joe was temporarily paralyzed in his top section, while his midsection instantly came to life, and I giggled at how adorable responsive he was. Why wasn't he able to see what a hot, mature man he is? I mean, we didn't have much, but we did have a mirror. It didn't take much brain function to understand that he was way passed his teens!
"I... Uhm..." he stuttered. And since he didn't move, I took the sheep head and placed it on his own, and pushed in down on his shoulders. Then I dragged him to the car, and drove him to work.
Time to finalize my plan.