War of Design Short #2
Uninvited Guest
“Who ‘de fuck are you and what ‘da fuck are ye doing on my porch?”
Ezra peered through the dingy screen door into the barely lit kitchen he knew to belong to Gotham Valentine and not the man cursing at him.
“Gotham here?” he asked unperturbed by his welcoming.
“What ‘de fu ck is it to you?” The thick Scottish slur, worsened by the obvious state of hangover, led Ezra to believe this was one of Gotham’s rarely spoken of brothers.
“So are you the arsonist, the womanizer, or the retard?”
“Whu?”
Annoyed, Ezra opened the screen door and pushed his way inside. The smell of beer and reefer was overwhelming to his senses. Gotham’s usually tidy abode was littered with beer cans, fast food wrappers, and dirty laundry. He walked over to the couch, cleared himself a place to sit, did so and propped his feet onto the cluttered coffee table.
“An just what ‘da fuck do ye think ye’r doin’?” the brother asked, hands on hips in what Ezra assumed he thought of as a threatening stance. With his blood shot eyes and two-day wispy beard, however, he just looked haggard.
“When will Gotham be back?” Ezra asked, wondering exactly what he had missed in his two months absence.
“I said-“
“I know what you said before,” Ezra cut in, “and if you don’t answer my question I’m going to staple your balls to your leg. Now,” he slowed his speech, “when is Gotham due back?”
“Who’s askin’?”
Ezra rolled his eyes. “You must be the retard.” He lifted himself off the couch, pleasantly pleased when the other man had to crane his neck to look at him. “I am asking and I am asking a very simple question. Gotham, back, due, when?”
The brother backed up a step, sneering in a way that made him look like a rodent, and answered finally, “Any minute now. He just wen’ down to the chemists for somethin’.”
“Aspirin and sanitizer no doubt.” Ezra returned himself to the couch and from his peripheral vision watched the brother fidget. After awhile he went into the other room and turned on the television at a very high volume. Ezra ignored him, reciting in his head what he wanted to say when Gotham arrived.
As promised, the responsible Valentine brother walked in a short time later, a paper bag under one arm. Gotham didn’t notice him until he had set his load down on the trash strewn kitchen table and was digging through it.
“Ezra?” Gotham said in obvious surprise. “When did you get back?”
“Two days ago,” Ezra answered walking the short distance into the kitchen area. “Who’s the Neanderthal?”
Gotham scowled darkly, “My brother, Bruce.”
“The retard.”
“No, the womanizer.”
Ezra looked back into the bedroom where the television still roared at a soothing million and five decibels. “Really?”
“Bastard finally got what was comin’ to him. Fell in love with a girl, girl found out he was a cheatin’ bastard, girl dumped his sorry arse. ‘Es been in a depression ever since. Wayne is the arsonist, and Alfred is the retard.”
Ezra raised on brow. “I wasn’t aware you family was so rabid over ‘Batman.’”
“Mum was ‘de fan, Da’ didn’t care no how long as he had boys to carry on the family name. Vivian’s the lucky one, Mum’s Mum said if she didn’ name ‘er girl after her Mum there’d be hell to pay.” Gotham cracked open the seal of the bottle of aspirin in his hand and popped three into his mouth, swallowing them dry. “Wha’ are you doin’ ‘ere anyway. I thought you’d be gone another month.”
“A White Develi took a fancy to me. If I didn’t leave then I’d be married by now.”
Gotham looked bewildered and rubbed his temples in tight circles. “You couldn’t say no?”
“Not to a White Develi. There considered to be blood of Addas. You either say yes or everyone considers you a heretic. Being a heretic on Destalisx ends in you being fed to the Addelie.”
“Those are the creepy man eating rabbits right?”
“Yes.”
Raunchy laughter came in from the other room, accompanied by the laugh track to whatever sitcom Bruce was watching.
“Let’s step outside,” Ezra suggested. “The smell in here is stifling. How do you put up with this?”
“You ‘ave brothers, far worse then mine.”
“Yes, but mine are actually respectful of my personal space.” Ezra held the door open for Gotham and the two of them stepped outside into the considerably cleaner city air. “I came by for another reason.”
“Oh?” Gotham said vaguely sitting himself in the patchy grass of his front stoop.
“The White Develi got me thinking of the consequences of being a Develi my age and in my position. Black Prince or not I have to perform my expected duties or risk being permanently exiled from Destalisx again.”
Gotham was looking bewildered again. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, I need to get married and soon.”
Gotham leaned back on his hands, a guarded and resentful expression on his face. “That’s a new one for me. One of the crasser ways I’ve been broken up with.”
Ezra dropped to a crouch so he could look Gotham in the eye. “I’m not breaking up with you. I’m asking you to marry me.”
Gotham momentarily lost strength in his arms and nearly fell over. He quickly righted himself. After a moment of gaping he said, “You want me to marry me to you? Ta what, fulfill a duty? That’s romantic.”
Ezra smiled. “Hardly, it was always going to be you, Gotham. No one else will do anymore.”
“Who ‘de fuck are you and what ‘da fuck are ye doing on my porch?”
Ezra peered through the dingy screen door into the barely lit kitchen he knew to belong to Gotham Valentine and not the man cursing at him.
“Gotham here?” he asked unperturbed by his welcoming.
“What ‘de fu ck is it to you?” The thick Scottish slur, worsened by the obvious state of hangover, led Ezra to believe this was one of Gotham’s rarely spoken of brothers.
“So are you the arsonist, the womanizer, or the retard?”
“Whu?”
Annoyed, Ezra opened the screen door and pushed his way inside. The smell of beer and reefer was overwhelming to his senses. Gotham’s usually tidy abode was littered with beer cans, fast food wrappers, and dirty laundry. He walked over to the couch, cleared himself a place to sit, did so and propped his feet onto the cluttered coffee table.
“An just what ‘da fuck do ye think ye’r doin’?” the brother asked, hands on hips in what Ezra assumed he thought of as a threatening stance. With his blood shot eyes and two-day wispy beard, however, he just looked haggard.
“When will Gotham be back?” Ezra asked, wondering exactly what he had missed in his two months absence.
“I said-“
“I know what you said before,” Ezra cut in, “and if you don’t answer my question I’m going to staple your balls to your leg. Now,” he slowed his speech, “when is Gotham due back?”
“Who’s askin’?”
Ezra rolled his eyes. “You must be the retard.” He lifted himself off the couch, pleasantly pleased when the other man had to crane his neck to look at him. “I am asking and I am asking a very simple question. Gotham, back, due, when?”
The brother backed up a step, sneering in a way that made him look like a rodent, and answered finally, “Any minute now. He just wen’ down to the chemists for somethin’.”
“Aspirin and sanitizer no doubt.” Ezra returned himself to the couch and from his peripheral vision watched the brother fidget. After awhile he went into the other room and turned on the television at a very high volume. Ezra ignored him, reciting in his head what he wanted to say when Gotham arrived.
As promised, the responsible Valentine brother walked in a short time later, a paper bag under one arm. Gotham didn’t notice him until he had set his load down on the trash strewn kitchen table and was digging through it.
“Ezra?” Gotham said in obvious surprise. “When did you get back?”
“Two days ago,” Ezra answered walking the short distance into the kitchen area. “Who’s the Neanderthal?”
Gotham scowled darkly, “My brother, Bruce.”
“The retard.”
“No, the womanizer.”
Ezra looked back into the bedroom where the television still roared at a soothing million and five decibels. “Really?”
“Bastard finally got what was comin’ to him. Fell in love with a girl, girl found out he was a cheatin’ bastard, girl dumped his sorry arse. ‘Es been in a depression ever since. Wayne is the arsonist, and Alfred is the retard.”
Ezra raised on brow. “I wasn’t aware you family was so rabid over ‘Batman.’”
“Mum was ‘de fan, Da’ didn’t care no how long as he had boys to carry on the family name. Vivian’s the lucky one, Mum’s Mum said if she didn’ name ‘er girl after her Mum there’d be hell to pay.” Gotham cracked open the seal of the bottle of aspirin in his hand and popped three into his mouth, swallowing them dry. “Wha’ are you doin’ ‘ere anyway. I thought you’d be gone another month.”
“A White Develi took a fancy to me. If I didn’t leave then I’d be married by now.”
Gotham looked bewildered and rubbed his temples in tight circles. “You couldn’t say no?”
“Not to a White Develi. There considered to be blood of Addas. You either say yes or everyone considers you a heretic. Being a heretic on Destalisx ends in you being fed to the Addelie.”
“Those are the creepy man eating rabbits right?”
“Yes.”
Raunchy laughter came in from the other room, accompanied by the laugh track to whatever sitcom Bruce was watching.
“Let’s step outside,” Ezra suggested. “The smell in here is stifling. How do you put up with this?”
“You ‘ave brothers, far worse then mine.”
“Yes, but mine are actually respectful of my personal space.” Ezra held the door open for Gotham and the two of them stepped outside into the considerably cleaner city air. “I came by for another reason.”
“Oh?” Gotham said vaguely sitting himself in the patchy grass of his front stoop.
“The White Develi got me thinking of the consequences of being a Develi my age and in my position. Black Prince or not I have to perform my expected duties or risk being permanently exiled from Destalisx again.”
Gotham was looking bewildered again. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, I need to get married and soon.”
Gotham leaned back on his hands, a guarded and resentful expression on his face. “That’s a new one for me. One of the crasser ways I’ve been broken up with.”
Ezra dropped to a crouch so he could look Gotham in the eye. “I’m not breaking up with you. I’m asking you to marry me.”
Gotham momentarily lost strength in his arms and nearly fell over. He quickly righted himself. After a moment of gaping he said, “You want me to marry me to you? Ta what, fulfill a duty? That’s romantic.”
Ezra smiled. “Hardly, it was always going to be you, Gotham. No one else will do anymore.”