When Miniver said 'home', just in the way that he did, it gave new meaning to it as Pickles stepped in through the door that was supposed to lead to the patio, but didn't. He looked around at the condo, the living room with its small piles of clutter, the posters in frames on the wall, the bookshelf, the TV ( Read more... )

Pickles returned, carrying his copy of Edgar Allen Poe's complete works, and set it on the bookshelf, a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

"You'd never fuckin' guess who I just met at the Bar." He said to Miniver, dropping himself onto the couch, practically sprawled there.

When they walked in, it was quite a bit more clean than when Miniver first saw it. Lord only knows how Pickle had the time, but all the clutter that had been scattered all throughout the house had been taken away ( Read more... )

They both stumbled up the stairs and back to room VII, where Pickles tossed his notepad onto the desk before dropping back into bed, still warm from their laying there.

"What kept you up, dude?" He asked, lighting a cigarette.

Pickles returned to LA for only a few hours. It was for a very special occasion, however. There were things you couldn't get at the Bar, and a piercing was one of them ( Read more... )

The crack of dawn, and the crack of noon came and went without so much as a twitch from Pickles. He was past the twitching, and headlong into the sniffles and sweats ( Read more... )

It was the morning ( Read more... )

Pickles started setting everything up as soon as he got into the room, starting with the TV and DVD, before heading off to the desk, tossing the letter on it for further reading later. He started rifling through the drawers before finding exactly what he was looking for. The pipe, weed, and a small tin labelled Altoids.

"Atta man, Old-me, know where ( Read more... )

With the cauldron and book set down and the hat tossed aside, Pickles only had to put out his cigarette before practically dragging Miniver into a longing, lustful, rough kiss.

It had been days, mind you, he was a bit frustrated.
Okay, make that a lot frustrated.

Movies procured and booze gotten, Pickles dropped the paper bags near the foot of the bed before trying to wrestle the TV back into work-mode. He did it rather quickly this time, and popped in the movie.

"I dunno, I haven't seen it fer a while. It's pretty dumb from what I remember, but that means we don't have to pay attention to it." He dug ( Read more... )