There was a knock at the door. · 9:42am Aug 27th, 2014
Something moved underneath the covers. Pale sunlight poured through the gaps of the curtains, dust motes floating silently on the air in the dark bedroom, caught in the beams of light that simply insisted on shining directly on his eyes. He pulled the covers over his head.
The knock came again.
He grunted, muffled a curse, and hoped whoever it was went away or got set on fire. Whichever came first. Seven in the morning was too fucking early for anything remotely important. He settled into his pillow, bundled up a portion of blanket and buried his face into it and sighed contentedly. The knock came again but woe, for it was too late. For his ears were covered and his body warmed by the God's glorious gift to mankind; the duvet.
Also have you ever stepped on the cold wooden floor of your bedroom on a simply delightfully chilly Autumn morning when you sleep on the first floor, or second floor for you new worlders in the audience, without any proper insulation in your attic or walls? After being perfectly warm and comfortable in your bed? Yeah, fuck that noise. He was staying right the fuck where he was.
The knock came yet again, but he was dead to the world, his breathing slowed, his eyelids grew heavy as he felt sleep slowly overtaking him once more, utterly melting into the comforting embrace of his duvet.
So of course his rest was interrupted by that embarassing Black Eyed Peas song he had for a ringtone. He swore he'd get it changed but never got around to it.
Sleep now thoroughly ruined, for now he could not get any sleep because then if he dreamt it would be about bees because of that fucking song. His arm popped out from his blankety bunker and came crashing down on his bedside table. There was a crash and he cursed, realising he now had to clean up some rather shitty vodka from his floor as he had knocked over the glass he used the night previously, then again that'll teach him to put his spirits in the same place as his alarm clock. His arm flailed, trying to get the contraption without actually turning around, it bumped into something else, there was a loud thump and the sound of something rolling. He let out a long, shuddering, exasperated breath, turned over and looked. Yeah, it was what he thought, he knocked over the Child of Prague statue and sure enough it was decapitated from the fall. Again. He was always told it was lucky when the head fell off the statue, but he always maintained that decapitating Jesus never lead to good things. Ah well at least it wasn't in the vod-
Wait, scratch that, the head was actually in the middle of the pool of Vodka. Okay yeah he was going to need to make it up to God for that, meanwhile, whoever the fuck was ringing him was about to get an earful. He reached over, now spying the little cellular bastard and picked it up. He ran his thumb across the touch screen, the green answer symbol expanding as he rolled back over, trying, but failing to regain his comfortable position.
"Mmmrflrhlm?" he accused, in a mumble that was far more accomodating than the angry, threatening mumble he had wanted to articulate. There was an art to mumbling, many subtle and intricate ways to communicate the sheer depths of displeasure a person could feel while otherwise indisposed to talk reasonably. However his heart just wasn't in it that morning.
"Evening Hundymun..." the unfamiliar voice gave him pause, his eyes were closed but his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Hmrmlrhm?" he asked.
"...What?"
"Hmrm-who is this?" he said with a sigh, rolling over and rubbing his forehead, only for the sunlight to glare directly in his eyes, he hissed and turned right the fuck back around.
"I thought we had an agreement, Handyman?" the voice asked, stern, almost reproachful.
"Look, if this is some kind of joke, I'm hanging up. Its too early in the morning."
"Well it isn't morning here, yet."
"Who is this?" he asked irritably.
"You haven't worked it out yet?"
"You really have, like, five seconds before I just hang up."
"How many people do you know call you on the phone and greet you as Hundymun? Purpusefully getting your username wrong?" the voice asked. The man paused, thinking, his eyes opened up and he glanced sideways at his phone suspiciously, holding it in front of his face. Phone number withheld, caller unknown. Typical, but he had a nagging feeling he knew exactly who this was.
"...Jay?"
"Add a Bee and an Ell and you got it."
"...the fuck you get my number?"
"That's not important."
"I think its pretty important to know how people half way around the world can get my number."
"Details."
"Yes. Details. Many details. Now, preferably."
"Do you realise you hit four hundred likes?"
"What are you... oh, you mean the story?"
"Well I certainly wasn't talking about your conversational skills."
"...You woke me up at seven in the morning just to tell me that? Jesus, I was going to see it before I went to work, I could've gotten an hour's extra sleep."
"And do you remember our agreement?"
"What agreement?"
"Where's the new chapter, Handyman?"
"...What?"
"You hit four hundred likes, where's the new chapter?"
"You saw what I had done of the latest chapter a few days ago." Handyman groaned, rubbing his face, trying to wake up the muscles so he could frown properly and with emotion.
"And the maps?"
"What fuck- Those aren't done either!"
"You said you'd give the audience maps in thanks for all their likes."
"I know and I am!" he said, sitting up in the bed. "Look, its the middle of the week, I'll have it done by... fuck. Friday I guess. Think you can get it looked over for Monday?"
"Might have a few things to do, but I could get it done."
"Great, I'll go hit up Terminal and have him give it a once ove-"
"Oh I have him here too." JBL said.
"Sup." a third voice said. Handyman just sat there, brow furrowed in confusion, head rested on a hand.
"....hello?" Handyman asked.
"Hey mick, how's it going?"
"...this is Terminal isn't it?"
"That's Lord Marshall Terminal, son!"
"Right, right, username change, gotcha." Handyman said, letting out a loud sigh. "So why the hell are you in Penal?"
"Oh I'm not, this is a three way call." the American said. The Irishman frowned, he really was quite good at that, and looked at the phone again. That would explain the unknown number thing at least.
"Huh. Alright. Well anyway, the sheer creepiness of this conversation aside, I still want to know how you got my number by the way, I'll have the chapter this weekend."
"And the maps?" JBL piped up, expectantly.
"Sometime in the future."
"That's not good enough Handyman."
"Look, these things take time."
"We know for a fact you can pump out things like this as if it were nothing."
"Yeah well.... Yeah, but... I have work at nine okay? Jaysus, couldn't you have waited till I was on skype later tonight?"
"Well you see, it kinda had to be now, we were concerned we would need extra motivation to get you to get your shit together." Alexander something something said. Handyman could never remember Terminal's actual name.
"What extra motivation?" Handyman asked, now thoroughly annoyed. The knocks at the front door downstairs grew more vigorous and insistant. "YEAH I'M COMING!" he bellowed.
"That's not important now." JBL said hurriedly. "The important thing is, you're getting the chapter done."
"Hey are we finished here? There's some wankstain downstairs knocking on my door."
"Yeah, don't open that." JBL said. "Just a word of advice."
"What? Why wouldn't I open my front..." Handyman began, before stopping himself. Putting things together in his head; the fact they got a hold of his number, the fact that JBL seemed to know who was at his front door, therefore knowing where he lived. "...what did you do, JBL?" He said lowly, eyes wide open and glaring into his phone.
"Oh uh, nothing!" he said. Handyman heard vaguely angry sounding noises outside his window. He heard that deceptively angry, conversational tone before during his brief trip to Berlin years ago; German.
"JBL, why are there Germans outside my house?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Why did you... how... what?"
"Look, they were the closest I could get to you... that I know about."
"Who do you know in Germany that... Right, you actually edit for a few German writers don't you?"
"Yep."
"...Thats not fucking Tio outside my house is it?"
"Like I said, don't worry about it."
"What the hell did you pay him to actually give enough of a shit to come out here?"
"I can proudly say I didn't pay him a penny!" JBL said brightly. Handyman could practically hear his shit-eating grin.
"...Ok, what did you promise him?"
"That's not important right now! The important thing is you're getting the story done!" JBL said.
"Hey guys, I'm back, sorry, had to go do a thing. Oh that reminds me," Terminal interjected before the Irishman could reply, "Handyman, the guys are getting antsy about that new chapter."
"I already told you, Bad Mondays will be done by the weekend." Handyman groaned.
"No no, you know, the other fic." Terminal said, Handyman blinked.
"Oh right the other fic."
"What other fic?" JBL asked.
"Uhm, don't worry about it, JBL."
"What other fic, Handyman?"
"Nothing! No other fic. Promise." Handyman said.
"What is he talking about Terminal?"
"Oh Handyman's writing this other fic fo-"
"Ap bup bup!" Handyman interjected.
"Are you holding out on me? Is this why Bad Mondays hasn't been updated as frequently?" JBL asked accusingly, Terminal laughed.
"That'll be the day, he hasn't updated it in over a month."
"Its already up? Where is it? I don't see it here."
"Heh-hey thats great, you guys, thanks for calling, and now that fic is definitely not getting updated until BM has had its fix." Handyman said.
"Oh no, you aren't hanging up on me, not until I get an answer!" JBL said, he moved his mouth from the phone, furious typing could be heard.
"I uh, I should go." Terminal said.
"Yes you should." Handyman replied.
"No you don't!" JBL said, too late as the American disconnected. "Bluh, listen, Handyman, if I don't see that chapter from you by Friday, things are going to happen to you."
"...what kind of things?"
"Remember you said you owed me a drawing of my choice?" JBL said smoothly, malice evident in his voice.
"...yyeeeessss?" Handyman asked, vaguely recalling a promise to that effect. His eyes widened slowly in horror, recalling the nature of the conversations they often had on skype and remembering exactly who it was he was talking to. "Wait... wait, wait... wait, wait, wait, wait... WAIT!"
"And that'll be just for starters." JBL said smugly. "Get it done, Handyman, I'll see you later."
"Yeah, see you then man." Handyman said, rubbing his eyes as the sound of the call ending hit his ears. A little pop up from o2 telling him exactly how much phone credit he has. A gentle reminder from the phone carrier company that he should give them more of his hard earned money for the privlidge of not being disconnected from the world. He glared at it for a moment before turning the screen off. Then turning it back on immediately, to see the time.
Seven forty five. What the hell. In five minutes his alarm would go off and he'd need to start getting ready for work. The knocks on his door were continuing. He could now hear accented English being spoken politely, yet firmly, but was way too tired and way too pissed off to be bothered to dedicate energy to paying attention to what was being said. All this because of horsewords. He yawned and then grumbled nonsensically to himself. "Bloody ponies..." he breathed, rolling over looking for his drink. Only to see it broken on the floor, its contents spilled and the Child of Prague's head still dipped in it. "Oh yeah..." he said, picking up the head and wiping it clean, thankfully both it and the body were intact. Its just the neck that got broke. Which pretty much happened to every statuette he had that wasn't made of metal.
The knocking continued. His alarm went off and he sighed. "You know what? Fuck it. Calling in sick today." he said, decided to fob off work rather than go down stairs and confront whatever fresh hell awaited outside his door. He laid back down on his bed with a grunt, turning off his alarm with a tactical swipe of his thumb on the touchscreen and contemplated trying to get some sleep. He knew he couldn't, he'd need to wait until nine to call work so he can report being sick, any later and his supervisor would think he was drinking the previous night. Which he was but that is most certainly not why he was calling in sick today. Not that she'd believe that. So calling in first thing it was. Which meant he had an hour to kill doing fuck all till then, and he doubted that knocking was going to stop any time soon.
He turned, facing the wall grumpily. Well, no work, that opened up the rest of the day, and he sure as shit wasn't going outside so what the hell was he going to do with his time? His laptop was charged up, he could play some Victoria II with that zombie mod his friend sent him. Paradox games are a good time sink. Nah, he did that last night... and the night before that... and the night before that. Well, nothing else to do and JBL effectively laying siege to his house via strategically placed Germans, he could always work on Bad Mondays some mo-
His eyes shot open as the realization of the full extent of his editor's gambit. "That devious fucker..."
tl;dr: Basically, Bad Mondays will be done by Friday and may or may not be uploaded by Monday. Also OP is a faggot.
Thanks for the four hundred likes everyone.
Have some meta-shenanigans while I totally get Bad Mondays next chapter finished by the weekend.
And maps. Because maps are nice.
I love it!
Yeah, that's right. He ain't paying us shit for the privilege to work for us.
Overall rating of this blog/story:
10/10 "It was okay" - IGN
Invading Ireland to get chapters. Just things we Germans do...
2405542 I thought you'd get a kick out of it.
2405573 He really owes you alot by this point from what I hear, that cheapskate.
2405574 Quite a bad habit of yours.
2405542 You slaver.... Us germans are proud people, you know.
We do accept payment in wheat based alcoholic beverages.
But really 11/10 would lay siege on some random guy's house. It's time for Germany to expand again.
2405573 2405574 JOIN ME, BRÜDER! WE MUST TAKE BACK ZE MAIN-LAND!
Nice blog, though
2405542 It was absolutely glorious!~ ...Wait...Why am I here?
Like done? As in end of the story?
2408062 God no. Done as in the next chapter is done.
2408178 don't scare me like that
2408339 BM has like a fifty subplots and character arcs, most of which haven't even showed up yet, let alone the main plot itself. I couldn't possibly wrap all that up in a single 15k word chapter.
Bad Mondays is nowhere near finished. You needn't be alarmed.