,. overture

[cole latimer]

---THROWING a hurricane irene welcome party was probably not, by most people's standards, a tasteful thing to do. cole was quite aware of this as he lugged a crate of beer off his shoulder and onto the ground of his best friend's apartment, where it landed with a small thump. the hurricane was an unexpected twist to cole's pit stop in new york, one that put filming on hold and therefore gave him more of a vacation than he had previously been banking on. he was exhilarated, but then the boy found grocery shopping exciting, even enjoyed his taxes. it would take more than a hurricane to evict him from the city, and more than that, he'd consider missing it intentionally a grave act of wastefulness. it would be like visiting london and bumping into prince harry in a pub only to leave immediately, or sleeping through a solar eclipse. he wasn't going to miss this without good reason, and mandatory evacuation simply wasn't good reason enough. luckily, he could count on his best friend to back him up on that one. the two young men had invited a handful of people over to see the storm through, but expected none of them to show up – to be honest, cole would have been somewhat disappointed if they had. it didn't seem like such a badass thing to do if the girl from the hotel lobby came along, after all. plus, he recalled her saying something about bringing a bourbon milk punch. that in itself didn't distress him – as odd as it might be to bring punch to an overgrown frat party, it sounded like exactly the sort of thing he would like. what really bothered him was the girl's comment that she thought it would be appropriate, as she had picked the recipe up in new orleans some months ago, and “isn't one hurricane kinda the same as the other?” as nonjudgmental as cole undoubtedly was, that wasn't a comment that sat too well with him, and he worried she might give australians a bad name if she came along. thankfully, he also knew she was about as likely to willfully face a natural disaster as he was to purposefully avoid one.

---LOOKING down at the crate that made up one of many the boys had brought into the apartment, given their rightful fear that liquor stores would close and stay closed for more than a few hours (a horrifying prospect), cole chewed over the thought that just maybe they had a little too much beer. maybe. it was a thought that only pleased him further, and as he opened it up with the intention of offloading it into cooler spaces, he realized that wouldn't be easy with the amount of bottles already taking up every inch of available space. he looked at the cans for a second, then made his mind up. probably because charlie had left him alone for more than two minutes, cole's attention span had waned from the task he was supposed to have been carrying out – a task he honestly couldn't recall any detail of, no matter how much he tried – and instead, he began carefully stacking the cans in a pyramid. after maybe ten, fifteen minutes of careful work, he realized he didn't have quite enough to complete the two foot construction, and so he went and pulled a few more out the fridge. already the cans started to sweat in his hand, but his mind was made up. continuing his construction, cole stood back to marvel at the finished product. it truly was a thing of beauty.

---LIKE a child with what it believes to be a particularly impressive piece of finger painting, cole was seized by the need for another human being to see his creation and to offer him praise for it. “charlie!” he yelled, almost scared that the vibrations of his yell would disrupt the delicate engineering he'd just carried out, but then deciding it was much too cleverly constructed for that and yelling louder, “CHARLES SPENCER, GET IN HERE.

” as soon as his best friend emerged, cole took a step back, nodding at the pyramid. “it's truly a piece of architecture that will transcend the boundaries of art and engineering,[/font]” he said officiously, affecting the sort of tone he'd overheard pretentious losers using in art galleries for years. he remembered something he'd picked up in egypt. “did you know that the pyramids are a fertility reference? according to ancient egyptian creation myths, the world began when this mound of ground raised out of the still waters of nu, or nun, something like that. the water's like semen and the mound like a pregnant belly, you get it? so they'd bury their dead with mounds on top, as like a promise of resurrection. then that evolved into the later pyramid, since the pharohs had to show everyone up. wankers,” after running off this speech in the manner of a slightly stoned archeology professor, he realized that maybe his beer pyramid wasn't so hot after all. rather than dwell on this, he took a can from the top and cracked it open, pleased to find that it was one of the chilled ones stolen from the fridge.

---RETURNING his attention to the tv, he was met for perhaps the eighth time that day by a news anchor telling him to evacuate the area. he'd never heard of a mandatory evacuation before, and found it slightly odd. if the hurricane was so bad, why would they have to make the evacuation mandatory? surely people would run away from it by themselves? he and charlie were a case in point that making it so official only made it all the more tempting to resist. would anyone forcibly remove them if they were challenged to do so? who could challenge them? wouldn't the police that stayed behind to detain them be breaching the terms of a mandatory evacuation themselves? he found the whole situation surreal and amusing, like a tidbit from a sci-fi novel or a particularly mundane passage of 'alice's adventures in wonderland'. he just found it truly hilarious that the government would make such a recommendation mandatory, and if people really were so stupid that they had to be told to leave a bad situation rather than do so of their own volition. but then he checked his watch, remembered that he was in the middle of new york, and that their supply of beer was a hefty hint at their lack of plans to leave. maybe they did need to be told. “you know if we die, it'll only be the british and australian press that cares. have you ever noticed that about the press? three americans die in a tsunami that killed thousands, and you can bet that's the angle the american press goes with. we're as bad, though.[/font]” he took a sip of his beer, imagining what the australian press would say about it. 'hollywood star dies trying to escape hurricane', probably, and he snorted with laughter to himself. he wasn't a particularly cynical person by nature, but it was hyperbolic news stories that raised his distrust. which was probably why he was ignoring the severe warnings on the news right now, now that he thought of it. he chucked charlie a beer and slumped onto the sofa. “truth be told, after watching a woman give birth, a hurricane might be picturesque.”

---

TAG charlie spencer.
STATUS finisheddd!
OUTFIT such a bro.
MUSIC beethoven 4eva.
NOTES can you tell that i was reading 'myths & legends of ancient egypt' just before i wrote this? c; + sorry i gave you nothing to work with, i suck like that!

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[arthur]

- - - Despite eagerly agreeing to waiting the hurricane out, charles had managed to sufficiently freak himself out in a short matter of hours without even shifting from his groove in the couch. the television had been swapped between the weather channel and cartoon network every fifteen minutes; between some ancient scooby doo movie - "curse of the werewolves" or something along those lines - and the progress of hurricane irene traveling up the east coast through the night. "the hurricane is estimated at ranging as high as 120 miles per hour the higher you are in a building... should be hitting long island, new york, followed by new york city by mid-morning to afternoon... the governor has made the statement that if you're not already inland, then it's already too late... there was no backing out at this point. though with cole out wrangling together cases of alcohol, stacking cases throughout the apartment, there wasn't much of a choice of going back as it was. charles was not about to listen to the relentless mockery that would come with admitting any sort of fear of mother nature. "ahh, fuck it, if i'm going to die, may as well go big."

[/i] tearing open the nearest case of beer, he pulled out a bottle, despite is evident warmth, and popped the cap against the edge of his coffee table. downing the majority of the bottle in one gulp, charles made a mental note of at least throwing the next one in the freezer before drinking it. while cole was still out gathering more alcohol - god only knew what convenience store would be open with the rain coming down as hard it was - charles made the effort to clean himself up. covered mostly in rain water, mud, and the stench of two days worth of alcohol oozing from his pours.

- - - Shower first, brush teeth, comb hair, shave, find something clean to wear - or at least something that didn't smell - post pictures for the world to remember him by on tumblr, im his ex, write a note leaving all of his worldly belongings to cole. as if cole would survive if i didn't! mentally making a check list of things there was clearly no need to remember to do, charles stepped into the hot running water. there had to be some sort of comedic irony in the concept of showering to clean himself from the dirty storm water, just to go out and drown in the same storm. the second he felt he'd successfully cleaned himself of the afternoon's debris, charles stepped from the shower, snatching the nearest somewhat dry, clean towel, from the bathroom floor. like a bird perched on the edge of a pool of water preening itself - definitely not like a girl - charles ran a hand through his hair a couple times, shaking the excess water off, and admiring his own reflection. "narcissus has nothing on this."[/i] the stark white cat he called cruela made a quick jump from his night stand to his bed and caught his eye in the reflection of the mirror. bringing his attention back to reality. tugging a t-shirt and jeans from his dresser and pulling them on was done in a couple quick movements as he heard the door to his apartment open and close abruptly, followed by the heavy footfall he recognized to be his best friends - a fact that was probably not something to admit openly - and the thud of more beer being brought into the apartment. the mere thought of how much they'd managed to acquire pleased him. it was a fact that he'd went so far as to post on facebook, tumblr, and even text his family back home notifying them of how well-off they would be while bracing for a storm that they should have been running from.

- - - However one else seemed to share his enthusiasm but cole. his mother replying with a long winded, two-part message in which she was clearly not pleased: "charles prince, where are your senses?! have you become an alcoholic? do i have to have cole come check on you? out family has enough bad press for breeding alcoholics, we don't need you gallivanting about new york during a storm! YOU COULD DIE OUT THERE." though his only response of "don't worry, mum, cole's here!" seemed to only infuriate the woman more, leading to repeat phone calls in which he simply turned the phone off and prayed for his survival. sitting himself in front of the computer, his eyes instantly lit up when he saw his ex-wife had decided to "like" one of the updates he'd posted on tumblr. despite the fact that it was a notice of his impending death, the fact she'd gone out of her way to read something he posted lit him up like a child being praised by their parent for a crappy finger painting. before being able to do much else, the internet connection faded right as his name was shouted. "fuck i'm coming."[/i] although only muttered to himself, it was somehow assumed in his mind that cole's super hearing abilities would have picked up on it. yet, there he was again, shouting through the apartment for him. the second he emerged in the living room to find the pyramid of beer, his ears were met with a string of information his mind only barely grasped. "yeah, it's beautiful. lets take a picture of it. we'll have it framed."[/i] although sounding a bit sarcastic, talking over the information being fed to him, he was fully serious about the idea of documenting the structure.

- - - Feeling each can individually until he found one suitably cold for his tastes, charles popped it open, and dropped himself on the couch in front of the tv continuing to discuss the extreme weather conditions. "nahhh, that wont happen. i mean, i'm kind of a big deal, bro. if i die, the world will be in sorrow. except maybe asia, but who gives a shit about asia? ... fuck, you think there's any chinese places still open to deliver? i'm hungry as hell."[/i] pushing himself up again to attempt to find his yellow pages stashed away in some drawer in the kitchen, charles had decided that there had to be somewhere in town that would still be up to deliver. who didn't want to make a couple bucks off the poor fools that stayed behind? "wait, what?"[/i] only stopping his rummaging for a moment, distorting his face at the mental image of watching a woman give birth before continuing his search. "thats the most disgusting... what'd you do that for anyway?"[/i] giving up his quest, he opened a third beer - leaving the first two unfinished, he'd already forgotten where he'd left them and didn't care enough to search - and went to the living room window to admire the rain pouring down. "fuck, if i die, you have to take of cruela, yeah? she loves cheetos and you have to share your booze with her."[/i] opening the window to let some of the crisp air flood the apartment, he instantly regretted the choice and regretted his offer even more the second it left his lips, "wanna go to the roof?"[/i]

notes - - ta-da, finally done. , i suck and he's a girl, nbd.

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