[J] Nevada's Diary +Illusionist: soutou+

[soutou]

Tsar found a scribble in the freezer. Blue sees no need to help him, so Tsar needs to find Alex to save him.

Don't Freeze Your Scribbles!

Still in Progress

 

[soutou]

“I don’t suppose you have a reason for being here?” Blue asked the scribble during a commercial break. The scribble failed to respond. It was probably a good thing. Blue frowned, turning to give the floating swarm of color a serious once-over. “What the hell do you want, anyways?” he asked, shifting on the couch to face the silent scribble. “You’ve already got Tsar in a tizzy. What did Tsar ever do to you?” Well, other than theorize the scribble may have once been something eatable.

“…are you a ghost?” Blue asked after a long, thoughtful pause, bracing himself for a response. It took him a minute of silence punctuated by white noise coming from the television before he realized the scribble really didn’t have anything to say…at all. He grunted. “You know, Tsar thinks you’re a ghost come to haunt him,” he informed the floating orb, wondering if it actually wanted to listen. Blue decided that didn’t really matter, it wasn’t like the scribble had anything else to do. “He’s going batty trying to please you.”

Blue snerked. That was actually the reason he was all by himself today. Alex had gone out for groceries (the night before, Tsar had thrown everything out, as the fridge was where they had found the scribble). She had invited Blue along, but Blue opted to spend the morning cat-napping in the sun. Later, after Tsar made him breakfast, his one-eyed brother announced he was going to the cemetery. To appease the spirit, Tsar explained. Blue declined his offer to come along, switching on a thriller instead.

“..are you-” Blue stopped, face twisting as though the words themselves were sour. “…are you…that guy?” Blue forced himself to avoid a name. The scribble said nothing and he nodded, agreeing. “That’s what I told him. You aren’t some miserable soul.” He stared at the scribble, nodding again. “I’m glad we agree, Scribble.”

Blue settled back into the worn couch, rearranging the scribble so he could sprawl across the cushions and his scribble could sit on a pillow. He smiled idly, wondering when exactly he adopted the freezer spawn as his pet. Whatever. It was way easier to care for than a dog.

“Blue! I’m back!”

“Mhhm.” Blue didn’t bother looking up at his brother.

“I brought Theo some flowers.”

Blue blanked out the sentence immediately. “…I made friends with the freezer scribble.”

“Yeah?” Tsar sounded intrigued.

“Yeah. I named him Farzam. He’s my pet,” Blue responded, glancing over at his brother.

Tsar snorted, shuffling to the cabinet to see if there were any snacks left. “Now who’s the crackhead?” he scoffed.

Blue grumbled. “Shut the hell up. You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah.” A toothy smile. “Our pets always liked me best.”  

[soutou]

Entry: gone, not fogotten
Current Mood: Pensive
Music: Bed of Lies – Matchbox 20

Am I supposed to write ‘dear diary’? Forget that s**t.

This is to record the happenings of my pet scribble. His name is Farzam. Farzam the scribble. Tsar says he is not a pet, he is a ghost and how do I know he is a he anways? First of all, I asked the scribble if he was a ghost. Scribble said nothing, so I could only assume he agreed with me, otherwise he’d protest, right? I know purely on instinct he is a guy, so I gave him a proper male name. Farzam. Tsar doesn’t understand he says, especially since I keep the name our mother gave me when I was adopted as opposed to the one my mammy gave me at birth.

I don’t live in Afghanistan anymore. What happened during the civil wars will lie buried with my parents. That’s were it will stay, what’s dead should always remain dead and buried. This is what Tsar doesn’t understand, and this is what I can never explain to him. It’s something he has to figure out on his own, experience it for himself. To admit death is to admit someone is gone and once they are gone, they are forgotten. I do not forget those I have lost, the live on in thoughts in memories.

To admit the lost are gone would to lose a piece of myself for every one missing. I would keep losing and losing and eventually there would be nothing left. I wouldn’t feel anymore, I would be empty. Hollow. A mere shell of a man. Can a man without a soul be considered living? Or could they call me dead too? And once I was dead, who is going to remember me? My parents? My brother? My scribble?

…hmm.

I side-tracked a bit, didn’t I?

Farzam. Maybe he will take Tsar’s mind of things. I hope Alex doesn’t mind me keeping him. I never really asked. It’s just one, harmless scribble. I don’t think it even eats. (Or maybe it does. Was that why he was hanging out in the freezer? That makes more sense than anything else.) You know, I never asked if Farzam wanted to stay around either. But he never really says anything anyways.

Tsar says I’m trying to replace…him with Farzam. I’m not sure how you can replace someone…er, something like him with a scribble. My scribble is a floating ball of color. It looks like something a kid drew. There’s no way it could replace anything. He’s just a pet.

Ah. I’m rambling. I should sign off.

Until the scribble does something interesting,
Blueregard W. Avenseth  

[soutou]

Entry: it once was
Current Mood: Nostalgic
Currently Listing To: The Burn – Matchbox 20

Tsar’s leg is getting worse, I think. The aspirin doesn’t help him, not in the least, especially on the nippier mornings. He hobbles around like a cripple, I think he could actually be labeled as ‘crippled’ these days. You know, like he could park in a handicap spot (if he could actually drive). He has none of that, though. Still refuses even the notion of a doctor. Says the bloody idiot couldn’t do anything for him three years ago, he can’t so anything for him now. Truth be told, he’s probably right. Fool couldn’t even tell us what was wrong with Tsar, other than that he was ‘lame’. No kidding.

Be that as it may, going to the doctor still might get him a prescription for some stronger painkillers at the very least. But no. Stubborn s.o.b. refuses to even consider it. (He likes being a cripple, to some extent. People do s**t for him and get s**t for him and stuff. They feel bad for him. Tsar loves being doted on.)

I think he likes Farzam, though. When I came home early (it started to pour during my jog and I don’t favor getting soaked, thank you) I found him on the couch (foot on the coffee table, so I know his leg is giving him trouble) playing video games. Beside him, hovering over a carefully arranged blanket, was none other than Farzam. Tsar sniffed something about pets liking him just as well. Ghosts like him better too, especially he who doesn’t exist.

How right you are, brother.

Why do I keep talking about him, though? What about me? Am I supposed to explain myself to my journal? I’m five feet and seven inches (smaller than my younger brother) and I’m from Afghanistan, if you haven’t figured that out already. My mammy and papa were killed when a rocket hit our house. Shack. I was outside looking for something, I don’t remember. They were killed. I got spared. Is that fair? I don’t really think so.

…this isn’t supposed to be an emo fest.

Should I tell you about myself? I suppose this is so someone will read this someday. I should be immortalized, huh?

My name is Blueregard Avenseth. Everyone calls me Blue (or Bug, if they’re lucky). My given name was Wasim. Handsome. It’s rather fitting, you know. I’m quite the dashing fellow. Jet black hair, bronze skin. I’m pretty damn fit too. (I go jogging.)

…this is boring.

I’m going to watch a movie with Farzam. I think I’ll watch American Pie. Heh. Won’t Tsar be thrilled.
 

[soutou]

It was Tsar’s turn to watch the pet. Alex had gone out to do whatever Alexes do when they don’t feel like being around their obnoxious roommates and Blue had gone to the gym. He had already done his jogging, but he insisted he do weight training too. Tsar shook his head as he propped his leg up on the table. If Blue put in half as much effort in finding a job as he did keeping up his image, he would have gotten a job weeks ago. Months ago, even. He probably would have been given a promotion by now and they’d be able to stop mooching, er, that is to say, living in a mutual, symbiotic relationship with Alex. Or something like that. It sounded fancy enough. Whatever.

Tsar glanced over at the floating orb and smiled. “Happy?” he asked. Farzam, as Blue had dubbed the …thing. Tsar wasn’t sure what to call it anymore. He had originally thought it was a ghost, his ghost more specifically, but the floating orb had made no ghostly demands. It didn’t seem to act particularly spooky and it didn’t seem to be trying to scare anyone. It didn’t respond when Tsar went to visit Theo’s grave, it didn’t care when Tsar tried to offer it things Theo liked. Slowly, very slowly, Tsar began to accept that perhaps the floating scribble from the freezer wasn’t actually a ghost. Maybe it just was. It was a Farzam, he supposed. Though, Alex seemed to be wanting to lay claim to it too.

“It must be nice being so wanted,” he commented, not unkindly. He was quite serious. Blue usually tried to hoard Farzam to himself. He’d usually try hiding the poor little scribble in his drawers. When he wasn’t paying attention, Alex would usually rescue Farzam from the nasty place. And when she wasn’t saving him, Tsar was. Tsar didn’t really agree with Blue’s pet-raising method, but –and Tsar hated to admit this- the scribble seemed to like Alex and Blue better then him. Of course. “Lucky Farzam,” he mumbled, turning the TV on. He did try to be nice to the thing. (Being nice was a little hard when he had no idea what it wanted or needed or liked, but at least he didn’t make it live with his clothes.)

One boring movie and long nap later, Tsar woke with a start. “Hnn,” he groaned, stretching as he looked around blearily. What had woken him up? Wait, where was Farzam!? “Hey!” Tsar called, though he wasn’t sure why he thought it might respond. Then again, he didn’t think the scribble could move on its own either, but apparently, he was wrong. “Farzam! Please come back!” he called again. Blue would kill him if he lost the scribble. Alex would haul him off only to kill him again. Oh god. “Farzam!” he called again, getting frantic. Ohgodohgodohgod.

He stumbled down hall, nearly falling when he tripped over a lump of Blue’s clothing. Blue’s clothes! Farzam rushed into their bedroom and looked in the drawer; it made perfect sense. And there was Farzam! Oh thank-

…what the hell?

…there were two? Why were there two? Tsar rubbed his eyes. “Am I still dreaming?” he mumbled out loud, only vaguely aware how stupid that sounded. “Um. Are you both Farzam?” he asked the…pair of floating…things. Well, obviously not. They couldn’t both be him, even if they were two halves… Tsar stepped forward to get a closer look and nearly fell over in shock. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again, and still he could think of nothing intelligent to say. At all. There was a baby in there.

“…well.”

Tsar blinked a few more times and took a step back. How was he ever going to explain this to Blue and Alex? Oh, sorry, I fell asleep and our pet split and formed some babies. Hope that’s okay.

Yeah, that would go over fantastic.

Tsar heard the door open and then shut, followed by the telltale sound of Blue kicking his boots off. Tsar glanced back at the pair of scribbles and groaned. Pets must really, really hate him.

“…s**t.”
 

[soutou]

Entry: I do hate that thing I call my ‘brother’
Current Mood: Pissed
Currently Listening To: The Joke – Lifehouse

So, uh. Tsar killed my scribble. That a**. That a**! All I ever ask of that lazy piece is to watch my damn scribble when I got out and stuff. Which is not often, mind you. I go jogging every day. I sleep a lot. Alex does stuff. Works, I think. I mooch. Sometimes, occasionally, I go out with her. Because, you know, she deserves to go out and she needs company and s**t. (And I am great company.) And Tsar, being a cripple as well as a sap, stays home. And all he has to do is watch the pet. I mean, Farzam isn’t a dog or a cat, or something. He’s not complicated. So you’d think Tsar could handle this, right?

Right?

NO. NO HE CAN’T. ###### IDIOT. HEY. HEY! DON’T DO THAT TO ME! I’M TALKING TO YOU! KNOCK THAT OFF, YOU-

…I’m going to stop that right now and pretend it didn’t just happen. Okay. We’re going to carry on.

So, where were we? Tsar. Farzam. Oh yes. My –insert your choice of explicit here- brother killed him. Well, maybe ‘killed’ isn’t the best word, but he did make my pet morph, or something. First of all, there are two of them. Which I guess isn’t too alarming (other than that it, you know, morphed and all). I mean, don’t paramecium and stuff do that splitting all the time? There’s a word for it. That’s what Tsar told me, anyways. Only there’s kinda a small problem with that theory, of all this being natural. And that is, my pet is not a paramecium. Or anything of that sort, actually. He is a…well, I’m not sure. But he’s not bacteria. Or…uh…zoo plankton. Is that what a paramecium is? Is it ‘a’ paramecium, or is paramecium the plural form? I’m not sure. I can’t remember. Not that I actually paid attention enough to remember in the first place.

Whatever.

The point is, he did it. He made Farzam split, but that’s not even the weirdest part. There are babies involved. Babies.

This is bullshit. Total and complete bullshit. I am single and I like it that way. I don’t need kids. I don’t like kids. I don’t want kids. Ever. EVER. DO YOU HEAR ME!? And yet, I’ve wound up with two of them. TWO! What is wrong with the universe?! I did nothing to deserve this. NOTHING.

And yet.

I’m going to jog. I just don’t even want to think about this. The more I think, talk, write, whatever, the madder I get. I think Alex will kill me if I let my temper get away from me any more than it has. Whatever. She can babysit the scribble. Scribbles? Or are they actually kids now? It doesn’t matter. She’s a girl. She can take of it. And Tsar too, while she’s at it, because apparently, he can’t handle much himself.

Makes me so angry.

b*****d. He doesn’t deserve all he has. And I’ll be damned if he doesn’t know that.
 

[soutou]

Blue had gone jogging. It was raining, pouring even, but he had gone jogging anyways. See, the thing was, Tsar was an idiot. Through no fault of his own, Farzam had…changed. Blue was absolutely horrified and poor Tsar looked like he was already a foot in the grave. Blue’s temper was certainly something to respect. It wasn’t like the poor man could have seen this coming, never mind try to prevent the coming. It just happened. It was just the circle of life, and while no one knew it yet, this was only the beginning. Though, if anyone knew that now, someone would probably end up dead. The smart better would put his money as Tsar. Being the cripple and the pacifist and what not. But Blue had somehow managed to rein in his temper (probably all thanks to Alex; Tsar would find some way to express his gratitude when it was safer) and decided to go out jogging.

Jogging was Blue’s universal solution for…well, the universe. As the universe was generally something that annoyed Blue. Jogging was good for thinking as well as exercising, and the man always found himself feeling a little better after a good, hard workout. Sometimes it could take a few hours, but it wasn’t really like he actually had any where to be or go or anything to be late for or anything of that sort. Blue didn’t need to keep track of time, is what we’re trying to say. So he had no problem getting lost in his own problems and sulking and what not.

Like an emo. Or a teenager. But no one ever told Blue that.

It was much better to let him plug into his iPod and run his little heart out.

Well, until he got home. Got home to find Tsar had ditched (to Theo’s grave, but Blue chose to pretend he had no idea where the man kept running off to) and Alex being somewhere. She probably had to work. Or shop. Or something important that Blue cared about, but not enough to actually inquire or be worried about. Except for today, when he was already agitated and his already ‘messed up’ pet was left all by itself. What if it needed something? (How would they know?) What if it got worse? (What would qualify as worse, anyways?)

And as Blue pondered this, he wandered around the flat, looking for Farzam. And as he pondered, wandered and found said Farzam, he suddenly realized how it got worse. It mutated. Again. Into a child. Worse fears realized, Blue turned around and walked right down the hall, swung a left and walked right back out the door. Clearly, this wasn’t happening. This was actually some evil trick. He was going to do another quick lap and go home again. Alex would be there. Tsar would be there. Farzam would be fine, and that whole ‘morphing’ thing would have been a sick joke. (Much better than a sick reality.)

So one lap and five songs later, Blue opened the door and kicked off his wet sneaks. He quickly peeled off his socks and grimaced at the squelch. Oh, that was rather gross. Someone else could pick those up. He rumbled into the kitchen and helped himself to the cake Tsar made last night. Yes, right from the platter. No one would notice a few forkfuls missing, not really. And they wouldn’t notice a few gulps from the milk carton either. Nope. And since Alex and Tsar were MIA (well, maybe Alex was in her room, but Blue made it a general rule to keep from intruding when her door was shut), he was going to treat himself to a nap. He deserved it, after all. It had been a rather stressful day.

Blue ‘mhhhmed’ thoughtfully and pulled off his shirt. Tossing it to his floor already littered with various garments, he considered what he felt like wearing to bed. He had settled on the simple choice of boxers (the red plaid, to be exact. Blue liked planning these sorts of things out.) when he noticed there was still something in his room. On his bed. Squirming. Alive. On his bed.

…this was a very, very terrible day.

In fact, it went down in history as Blueregard W. Avenseth’s Most Horrible Day Ever. It was also came to be known as the birthday of Nevada Farzam Zalwai Avenseth.

…the latter was never really celebrated.
 

[soutou]

Entry: upside down. inside out. the world has ended as i know it.
Current Mood: Dazed
Currently Listening To: Closing Time - …I don’t even know. I wish I could remember. Oh wait. I CAN'T EVEN THINK.

…so. Uh. Remember that thing about a baby?

…yeah.

We have a baby. We have two babies, actually. And they aren’t actually ours. (I think Alex would kill me if we had children. I think I might even kill myself. I mean, I love that woman dearly, but any spawn of hers would be like the spawn of hell.) So. Yeah.

Babies make it really, really hard to exist, never mind trying to function like a normal human being. First of all, I’d like you to know that they cry. And this is all very well and find for Miss Alex, who seems to have a very happy child, and even when that’s not so, she can at least make this thing stop by singing. But me? I don’t even know. For all I did for the damn thing while it was still a scribble. (Maybe it was an egg?) Well, he certainly doesn’t seem to care very much. He is a he, for the record. I knew that much. But Tsar won’t let me call him Farzam, even though that’s the name he knows. Tsar insists that was their name when they were still one.

Alex calls her Soloman, by the way. Mine is Nevada. Yes, Nevada is a state. I think that’s actually really funny. The kid is named after a state. Tsar picked the name. He says it means snow. Or snowfall. Or something. Don’t ask. Tsar says the kid reminds him of winter, and winter reminds him of snow. So clearly, we should name the kid after snow. Everyone can see the brilliance behind that.

…I do have to wonder about these people.

I have to wonder about myself. Why am I still putting up with this? At least it was kinda fun when we all thought he was just a nice little pet. A little, quiet pet that didn’t need to eat or nap and didn’t need anything else. Ever. It just slept and let you watch what you wanted to watch and let you leave it alone and didn’t need attention all the time.

OH FOR THE LOVE OF…ANYTHING.

This is madness. This is absolutely mad and I must be totally and completely out of my mind.

I don’t like this, and I don’t like him. Alex won’t take him, but there’s got to be some way out of this, right?

Right?

…right!?