Wilford Warfstache (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cottoncandypink) wrote2018-06-26 09:09 am
cottoncandypink) wrote2018-06-26 09:09 am
It’s the last one I get for about a month. Leave me alone
Taking a week off before the surgery was the worst idea ever. It had only made him more on edge and nervous about the whole thing, even after what was supposed to be a fun and enjoyable birthday. He hadn’t been nervous about something in… years. Not like this. There was so much ready to go wrong. His heart had to be restarted on an operating table before. Granted, circumstances were a bit more extreme that time, but who was to say it wouldn’t happen again? What if it hadn’t been getting shot full of holes that had done it. What if it was the drugs they were using?
He didn’t remember what had gone down the first time his face had to be put back together. He was slightly more conscious during that one, but it was a long damn time ago. All he remembered was being very angry about the idea of having to go back to school looking like a fucking cyborg. Nobody wants to do that.
In an attempt to ease this sudden anxiety, Wilford had spent nearly all day in the pool, on a lounger. The stereo inside was playing a mix of ska and electroswing remixes, blasting through a new external sound system that probably drove the neighbours insane. More of his little rubber ducks were empty than were holding beer, but there was more inside for when he ran out. His phone had died hours ago, and had been tossed up onto a chair beside the pool, well out of Buster’s way as he tore a path of destruction around the terraced yard. It was just him, the music, and an anxious tension that wouldn’t go away.
“I could hear you from down the road!”
Wilford picked up the remote from his lap and turned down the music, turning to look at Billy as he walked up the stairs.
“I’m trying to run my neighbours out,” he said.
Billy laughed and sat down in one of the lounger chairs beside the pool. “You’ll clear the whole neighbourhood out if you keep it up.”
There was a little duck close enough for Wilford to reach it and toss it up to Billy. He shook his head at it as he pulled the beer can out, and tossed the duck back into the water. “Quarter million an episode, and that’s what you’re spending your money on?” Billy asked.
Wilford pointed to the speakers mounted on the side of the house. “That shit cost twenty grand to install.”
He was still getting used to spending money on things he wanted. It was probably always going to be an uncomfortable concept, but it was also nice not living in total squalor when he didn’t have to.
“I’m about to drop almost a hundred on my fucking face.”
And there went his nerves all over again. He finished off his beer, tossed the empty can up onto the deck, and tried to convince another one to get closer. When it didn’t work in any sort of dignified fashion, he whistled for his dog. Buster came rushing over, jumping straight into the pool.
“Get me that,” he said, pointing to a duck. Buster paddled over to the duck and brought it to Wilford, along with a lot of water. With his job done, Buster paddled around aimlessly in the water, punching the ducks around.
“When do you start fasting?” Billy asked.
“Six.” Wilford checked his watch. “About two hours.”
“You eaten?” Billy asked.
Wilford sighed. He didn’t want to get up. He was trying to enjoy himself. “Nope. Probably should do that.”
Without hesitation, Billy nodded and pulled out his phone and started scrolling through pages. “It would probably be too much to ask your place to deliver,” he guessed.
“It’s an hour away with good traffic. It would be cold even if you could convince someone to drive it out here,” Wilford said. He probably could convince someone to do it, but he spent most of his evenings there as it was. A little variety would be nice from time to time.
“Ah, shit. My phone’s dead,” he remembered suddenly. He hopped down off the lounger, careful not to get pool water into his beer, and took his phone inside to charge so he could open the gate if he needed to. When he came back, he forewent the lounger in the pool and sat down on the deck next to Billy. “I hate this yard,” he said, suddenly very tempted to have all the terracing torn out to open the place up into a useable space for… something. He didn’t know for what. He hadn’t thrown a party since high school. Maybe he’d do exactly that.
“What time’s your thing?” Billy asked, still fiddling with his phone.
“We have to be out of here by five.” They hadn’t had early days like that in years, but it hardly mattered. Wilford hadn’t been asleep at 5am in even longer. Billy might not like it, but he’d volunteered for the job, so he must have known what he was getting into.
Billy quit messing with his phone and put it down, replacing it with his beer. They both spent a few quiet minutes just watching the dog splash around in the pool to an angry ska soundtrack. He’d chase the rubber ducks around for a few minutes, and then get bored and zoomed around the yard, jumping over the small ledges that held back only dirt and weeds because Wilford wasn’t bothered enough to hire a landscaper yet. Maybe that would be his project during his month off. Fix up the yard, and get the last little points of irritation with the place smoothed out. He probably wouldn’t have even thought to bother, if Jim hadn’t insisted on making the inside look nicer than the outside.
“How much do you think it would cost to fix this place up?” he asked, looking around the ankle-high weeds.
Billy looked around. “Just the yard?” he asked. “I hear you get a tax cut and water credit if you install desert landscaping.”
Wilford looked around the yard again. He wasn’t a big fan of the desert, but he could probably be convinced to go in that direction. He picked up Billy’s phone and searched for desert landscaping, to see what people were doing with it. All of the photos looked… pretty much the same.
“It’s all grey,” he said.
Billy leaned over to look at row after row of grey rocks, colourless dirt, and sad cacti. “They’re probably all DIY. My neighbour’s got some real crazy shit in her yard. Want me to get the number of the people she used?”
Wilford scrolled through more images. He wasn’t convinced yet. “Get me his website.” He handed the phone over to Billy and watched his dog while Billy found the website. A few moments later, Billy handed the phone back. The site was clean and professionally-designed, which was a good start. No garish, colourful backgrounds or animated gifs. Just information and photos that looked a lot better than the ones Wilford had found. Lots of oranges, reds, blues, and greens. Wilford didn’t even know plants like some of the ones in the pictures existed, but he liked the look of them. He copied the web address and texted it to himself so he could look at it better later, when he was actually ready to go through with it.
Wilford had been right. He wasn’t even close to asleep when it was time to get up. But he also couldn’t stand in front of the large windows in the living room, enjoying a cup of coffee and watching the neighbours wake up fighting. He wasn’t allowed to drink anything, and the neighbours were still asleep. Instead, he watched a coyote dig through the neighbours’ trashcans as Billy’s alarm went off back in the bedroom. He wondered how much the dog had put up a fuss about someone else sleeping in his bed, but the cheerful jingle of tags that preceded Billy suggested that Buster was just fine having someone new to cuddle with. Wilford quickly put breakfast together for the dog while Billy got himself put together to leave, and made sure the door back in his office was open enough to let Buster come and go as he pleased.
Once the dog was situated, Wilford and Billy left the house, getting into Billy’s SUV. The drive across town to the hospital was quiet. The roads were still relatively clear, which took some of the stress out, but Wilford was starving and wanted coffee, and couldn’t do anything about either of those. So he fucked around on his phone for the entire ride, bouncing between clicker games, tweeting bullshit at people to confuse them, and reading the news to find more things to tweet about. It was a somewhat entertaining way to spend an otherwise stressful 45-minute ride. Finally, they got to the hospital, and Billy found a spot to park in the garage. As soon as he stepped onto the pavement, Wilford pulled out his cigarettes and lit one up.
“What are you doing?” Billy asked, stopping to see why Wilford had stopped.
Wilford shrugged. “It’s the last one I get for about a month. Leave me alone.” It wasn’t helping his nerves at all, but that wasn’t any reason to not take a few minutes to enjoy himself. He leaned against the car and spent the next few minutes in silence, trying to think about anything other than the last time he’d had surgery. It wasn’t working. Once he’d finished his cigarette, he’d run out of excuses to quit stalling. He tossed the butt onto the pavement and crushed it with his shoe before heading inside, with Billy close behind.
He didn’t remember what had gone down the first time his face had to be put back together. He was slightly more conscious during that one, but it was a long damn time ago. All he remembered was being very angry about the idea of having to go back to school looking like a fucking cyborg. Nobody wants to do that.
In an attempt to ease this sudden anxiety, Wilford had spent nearly all day in the pool, on a lounger. The stereo inside was playing a mix of ska and electroswing remixes, blasting through a new external sound system that probably drove the neighbours insane. More of his little rubber ducks were empty than were holding beer, but there was more inside for when he ran out. His phone had died hours ago, and had been tossed up onto a chair beside the pool, well out of Buster’s way as he tore a path of destruction around the terraced yard. It was just him, the music, and an anxious tension that wouldn’t go away.
“I could hear you from down the road!”
Wilford picked up the remote from his lap and turned down the music, turning to look at Billy as he walked up the stairs.
“I’m trying to run my neighbours out,” he said.
Billy laughed and sat down in one of the lounger chairs beside the pool. “You’ll clear the whole neighbourhood out if you keep it up.”
There was a little duck close enough for Wilford to reach it and toss it up to Billy. He shook his head at it as he pulled the beer can out, and tossed the duck back into the water. “Quarter million an episode, and that’s what you’re spending your money on?” Billy asked.
Wilford pointed to the speakers mounted on the side of the house. “That shit cost twenty grand to install.”
He was still getting used to spending money on things he wanted. It was probably always going to be an uncomfortable concept, but it was also nice not living in total squalor when he didn’t have to.
“I’m about to drop almost a hundred on my fucking face.”
And there went his nerves all over again. He finished off his beer, tossed the empty can up onto the deck, and tried to convince another one to get closer. When it didn’t work in any sort of dignified fashion, he whistled for his dog. Buster came rushing over, jumping straight into the pool.
“Get me that,” he said, pointing to a duck. Buster paddled over to the duck and brought it to Wilford, along with a lot of water. With his job done, Buster paddled around aimlessly in the water, punching the ducks around.
“When do you start fasting?” Billy asked.
“Six.” Wilford checked his watch. “About two hours.”
“You eaten?” Billy asked.
Wilford sighed. He didn’t want to get up. He was trying to enjoy himself. “Nope. Probably should do that.”
Without hesitation, Billy nodded and pulled out his phone and started scrolling through pages. “It would probably be too much to ask your place to deliver,” he guessed.
“It’s an hour away with good traffic. It would be cold even if you could convince someone to drive it out here,” Wilford said. He probably could convince someone to do it, but he spent most of his evenings there as it was. A little variety would be nice from time to time.
“Ah, shit. My phone’s dead,” he remembered suddenly. He hopped down off the lounger, careful not to get pool water into his beer, and took his phone inside to charge so he could open the gate if he needed to. When he came back, he forewent the lounger in the pool and sat down on the deck next to Billy. “I hate this yard,” he said, suddenly very tempted to have all the terracing torn out to open the place up into a useable space for… something. He didn’t know for what. He hadn’t thrown a party since high school. Maybe he’d do exactly that.
“What time’s your thing?” Billy asked, still fiddling with his phone.
“We have to be out of here by five.” They hadn’t had early days like that in years, but it hardly mattered. Wilford hadn’t been asleep at 5am in even longer. Billy might not like it, but he’d volunteered for the job, so he must have known what he was getting into.
Billy quit messing with his phone and put it down, replacing it with his beer. They both spent a few quiet minutes just watching the dog splash around in the pool to an angry ska soundtrack. He’d chase the rubber ducks around for a few minutes, and then get bored and zoomed around the yard, jumping over the small ledges that held back only dirt and weeds because Wilford wasn’t bothered enough to hire a landscaper yet. Maybe that would be his project during his month off. Fix up the yard, and get the last little points of irritation with the place smoothed out. He probably wouldn’t have even thought to bother, if Jim hadn’t insisted on making the inside look nicer than the outside.
“How much do you think it would cost to fix this place up?” he asked, looking around the ankle-high weeds.
Billy looked around. “Just the yard?” he asked. “I hear you get a tax cut and water credit if you install desert landscaping.”
Wilford looked around the yard again. He wasn’t a big fan of the desert, but he could probably be convinced to go in that direction. He picked up Billy’s phone and searched for desert landscaping, to see what people were doing with it. All of the photos looked… pretty much the same.
“It’s all grey,” he said.
Billy leaned over to look at row after row of grey rocks, colourless dirt, and sad cacti. “They’re probably all DIY. My neighbour’s got some real crazy shit in her yard. Want me to get the number of the people she used?”
Wilford scrolled through more images. He wasn’t convinced yet. “Get me his website.” He handed the phone over to Billy and watched his dog while Billy found the website. A few moments later, Billy handed the phone back. The site was clean and professionally-designed, which was a good start. No garish, colourful backgrounds or animated gifs. Just information and photos that looked a lot better than the ones Wilford had found. Lots of oranges, reds, blues, and greens. Wilford didn’t even know plants like some of the ones in the pictures existed, but he liked the look of them. He copied the web address and texted it to himself so he could look at it better later, when he was actually ready to go through with it.
Wilford had been right. He wasn’t even close to asleep when it was time to get up. But he also couldn’t stand in front of the large windows in the living room, enjoying a cup of coffee and watching the neighbours wake up fighting. He wasn’t allowed to drink anything, and the neighbours were still asleep. Instead, he watched a coyote dig through the neighbours’ trashcans as Billy’s alarm went off back in the bedroom. He wondered how much the dog had put up a fuss about someone else sleeping in his bed, but the cheerful jingle of tags that preceded Billy suggested that Buster was just fine having someone new to cuddle with. Wilford quickly put breakfast together for the dog while Billy got himself put together to leave, and made sure the door back in his office was open enough to let Buster come and go as he pleased.
Once the dog was situated, Wilford and Billy left the house, getting into Billy’s SUV. The drive across town to the hospital was quiet. The roads were still relatively clear, which took some of the stress out, but Wilford was starving and wanted coffee, and couldn’t do anything about either of those. So he fucked around on his phone for the entire ride, bouncing between clicker games, tweeting bullshit at people to confuse them, and reading the news to find more things to tweet about. It was a somewhat entertaining way to spend an otherwise stressful 45-minute ride. Finally, they got to the hospital, and Billy found a spot to park in the garage. As soon as he stepped onto the pavement, Wilford pulled out his cigarettes and lit one up.
“What are you doing?” Billy asked, stopping to see why Wilford had stopped.
Wilford shrugged. “It’s the last one I get for about a month. Leave me alone.” It wasn’t helping his nerves at all, but that wasn’t any reason to not take a few minutes to enjoy himself. He leaned against the car and spent the next few minutes in silence, trying to think about anything other than the last time he’d had surgery. It wasn’t working. Once he’d finished his cigarette, he’d run out of excuses to quit stalling. He tossed the butt onto the pavement and crushed it with his shoe before heading inside, with Billy close behind.