ArchivedLogs:Uncle Fucking Myers

Uncle Fucking Myers
Dramatis Personae Mei, Mal, Jim, Ash
In Absentia	2013-05-03 The most bizarre burglary in history.
Location <NYC> 214 {Jim} - Sunrise Apartments - Clinton
Jim's apartment is not big, the living room area L-shaped with the entrance at one end and a kitchenette found at the other. Furnished by a scuffed wooden curb-found coffee table, a saggy green couch upholstered in a scratchy burlap material and two chairs, the habitat manages to just barely function as a one bedroom rather than a studio by merit of a walk-in closet sized bedroom you would have to cross through to reach his cramped bathroom. In here, water damage stains the walls. As does rust, around the showerhead in the cramped shower stall. Mei has been poking around a bit and despite perhaps Jim's desires, she has been trying to clean the place up. The grime, water stains, etc are all getting treatment. So Mei is busy scrubbing away in the kitchenette, trying to get all the counters really clean, and cabinets and the like. She already has cleaned the dishes, any she could find, washed and put away. She hasn't tried ot tackle the main room floor with the dirt and all, but she seems determined to get the kitchen clean one way or another. She's managed to get down to the actual floor in there and she's working now on counter tops, scrubbing with a worn sponge and hot water as she struggles with a lot of elbow grease to try to make the kitchen at least liveable by her standards. The rest of the place will have to wait for now, it seems. CRASH. Glass shards fly inwards, pouring into the apartment by the dozens, ranging from small pieces to large ones. Momentarily, a jean- and Converse-clad leg zips indoors. The jeans are already in some stated of disrepair and the shoes are filthy, so kicking through the window doesn't damage it much further. Next, an arm completely covered in some filthy rag begins to punch the sharp shards that continue to cling to its home. Once the hole is large enough, Mal hops inside, wearing a wife-beater and locking a lit cigarette between his lips with a firm grip. Looking around, he frowns. "Wh't nh f'ckin' d'mp", he murmurs nigh incomprehensibly. He saw Jim leave, so surely no one else is at home, right? Mal immediately begins marching towards the kitchen casually. Which is where he sees Mei. He pauses only for a moment, before offering a shrug and moving towards the fridge. Mei blinks as glass shards are nocked in. She blinks in surprise as some stranger opens up a hole big enough in the window to hop inside, then enters. This is not someone Mei recognizes. Nor does she seem to think that someone who is friendly to Jim would break in like that, so... worried for her own safety, she frowns and throws the sponge at Mal's head. Oh, no problem a sponge, oh the horror, Mal might get wet! Only... that sponge is in fact a lot harder than it was a second ago. In fact it is a lot heavier too, and shiney. In fact that sponge is now solid gold and so a small sponge shaped gold brick in effect is being thrown at Mal's head as Mei yells, "Out! Out out! You out now!" As she scrambles backwards to try to find something else to try to fend off the intruder with, her hands grabbing on to a scrub brush which she holds up defensively before her like it was a sword, or something like that. Although it looks to be still plastic and not much of a threat as Mei retreats, while trying to keep herself facing Mal. Getting wet is something Mal is not overly fond of, so even before the golden glint is caught, he is already intent on dodging the object. He twists his torso, turning and leaning off to the side. It flies right by his cigarette-holding mug; the casual demeanour is wiped clean and replaced with concern when it turns that sponge just became gold. Did it? After it flies past him, Mal inhales some smoke, searching for where the precious object has thudtumbled off to. To talk more clearly, a hand darts up to the cig' and withdraws it. Blowing smoke as he speaks, he turns to face Mei, "Was that-- Did you just fucking throw a golden sponge at me? A fucking /golden/-- What the /fuck/--" Suffice to say, he is a bit at a loss for words. Eyeing the scrub brush and the small hands clutching on to it, Mal takes another lungful of nicotine. "Look, calm down, all right? I'm Uncle fucking Myers, Jim told me to come clean the place up, didn't know there was a fucking kid, okay?" Still eyeing the little girl, he backs off towards the fridge, extending his hand back to open it. The sound of SOLID GOLD thudding off the wall muffles the sound of a key clicking in a lock. There's a moment of silence. Then the door /bursts/ open with Jim's foot still raised where he'd KICKED IT. No, he isn't holding a gun, but the drama of his entrance might as well /hand/ him one... save that his expression is one of massive ANNOYANCE. That, and he's wearing a hawaiian style shirt and carrying a small /fig/ tree. It goes 'rustle!' in the little narrow branches over his head. He sweeps the room in ONE, noting Mei - okay, kid's safe - and Mal-- "What the fuck're you doing in my apartment, guy." The tree lowers a little. As if he'd been intending to start /braining/ with the pot. Ash treks home after work and after a stop by the grocery. He's got a large paper sack in one arm and has a plastic sack in the other, filled with the clanking of beverages. He pauses when he finds the door open and moves in slowly, taking in the scene with a confused wrinkle on his forehead. He keeps quiet as he skirts in behind the tree laden Jim, moving toward the kitchen toward Mei. And Mal apparently. "Um. Hello?" Mei points at the intruder, Mal, and stammers, "He broke window! Not me!" As if this might be the main focus of concern as she retreats from the kitchen area as Mal heads to the fridge, which is in the kitchen, which is where Mei was cleaning. She doesn't try to add to her protest as she gets away from Mal, just in case. She does walk or scurry past where the sponge landed and picks it up, on her way to the living room to get some space between herself and the intruder just in case. By the time the new arrivals are present in the kitchen, a frying pan is already seated atop a burning stove. The cigarette-munching invader is holding on two four eggs, two per each hand. Nicotine is inhaled and smoke is puffed like he were some manner of tough guy from a mob. As he steps back to stand beside the pan, he doesn't turn his back to any of the other three people. Then again, he maintains a sort of casual demeanour that only years of breaking into homes can lead to. He is here on a mission, and that mission is inside that fridge. "You got ten eggs", he murmurs past his cigarette, laying down all the eggs to hurriedly spread some butter on the shabby scratched surface of the pan. At the same time, one of the eggs is grabbed to smash it against the brim of the pan. "That's two fucking eggs for each, and you get two left over. Can't say the same 'bout bacon." Indeed, there's hardly any. Still, he tries to do a good job of dividing that. Afterwards, that delicious goodness is tossed onto the sizzling pan. "If someone's /really/ hungry, I can make three eggs for 'em." "Kinda like the part where you're divvying up my own god damn food for me." Jim /grouses/ while setting down his fig tree. It's probably taller than Mei, though really more awkward than heavy. He's kicked the door shut and relocked it, absently tossing an arm around Mei when she flees to his side of the court - more to give her an awkward-reassuring jostle? There-there? Argh, he does not 'kid' very gracefully, adding a nice trashy finish to the movement by fishing out his own smach-crumpled pack of smokes - cheap Marlboro Reds, pulling one out with the corner of his mouth. "How d'you know I wasn't gonna make a god damn /cake/ with those. - watch it Ash. Broken glass." Yes, watch out for the broken shards on the floor, not the /foodburglar/ currently standing next to a hot fry pan. Also - "Agh what'd you do with my fuckin' dirt?" He loved that dirt! "I'll get you more dirt, Jim. We didn't have nearly enough as it was." Ash begins wearily depositing more food from the grocery bag into the fridge, pushing the glasses of nice rootbeer onto the top shelf in the back. For being dirty, he has a very organized method to his madness, folding up the paper sack and stashing it away in the space between the fridge and the countertop. "I'll take three eggs," he replies and goes to take the trash can, a broom and dustpan over to where the glass is. Oh, grabs that paper sack again. He then starts cleaning up the glass, putting the shards carefully into the paper sack, not directly into the trash. Mei is left more than a little confused by the actions and words between the intruder and Jim/Ash. She clearly, from the look on her face, doesn't understand any of this at all. "You no shoot?" She asks Jim, then looks suspiciously at Mal, a frown on her face. Then the comments about dirt seem to register and she does a double take, "You... you like Dirt?" She tilts her head, clearly confused from her expression, as she tries to process this all. She shakes her head. "Why you no shoot him?" She looks back to Mal, ignoring for now the whole dirt issue it seems. She glances over at Ash as he moves to pick up the glass, doubly confused perhaps. "I didn't /touch/ your fucking dirt. Your little Asian slave kid /did/!" Understandably, Malcolm is awfully offended that he is blamed for the lessened presence of the dirt. Eyeing the trio that he has disturbed, Mal assumes an attitude that suggests they are the odd ones out in this picture. "Fucking /cake/-- Don't make me fucking laugh. Do you even know how to make a fucking pancake? You're getting illegal aliens do your groceries, get the fuck out of here." "See?" A wild gesture is flung in the direction of Mei. On the way to Mei, his gaze also considers Ash unloading food into the fridge. "Three eggs? Got it." More smoke seeps past the chapped lips. "Uncle fucking Myers will sort you out." The pan sizzles louder. "Where are all the plates? Do you even /have/ plates?" The remark regarding shooting seems to have been completely ignored by Mal. Nope, he seems to have incorporated himself into this wonky family already, likely confusing Mei only further. Eh, /adults/. "Eugh." Jim makes a sound of disgust, "/Three/ eggs. Over easy." He crosses his arms, looking Mal over from his position beside Mei, "--you /want/ me t'shoot him?" There's no gun in sight currently. But technically speaking, there is no solid evidence there isn't one around. "Plates are in the cabinet to the right of the sink." Ash speaks up, helpfully, as he continues to clean. When all the big chunks are cleaned up, he begins sweeping all the dirt and glass in the area up and into the paper sack, working quietly. "Violence isn't always the answer, Mei. Sometimes, a person just needs food, you know?" He gives a little shrug, then speaks up to Mal once more. "Salt and pepper in the cabinet to the right of the stove. Jim, we really have to get some more spices. And peppers. Do you like spicy food, or should I keep my jalepenos to myself?" Mei seems absolutely frustrated with the way things are going. She looks up at Jim, "He break in, you shoot! Not eat food, shoot! Why you no shoot. You American, yes?" She clearly has some set ideas about how Americans do things and Jim is obviously not currently fitting her expectations. Neither is Ash or Mal to be fair. She shakes her head in disbelief, "You no have gun? You... afraid of strange egg man?" She asks, as she looks at the three in the room one after another, as clearly this little melodrama isn't going at all as she thought it probably should, a frown etched on her face. Then something Mal says seems to register and she loudly protests, "I no slave!" She practically stomps her foot as she says this firmly, glaring at Mal. Then defensively adds, "I did /try/ clean kitchen...." Then she shakes his head, as if she can't believe what is going on around her at all. The plates are retrieved and places on the counter nearby, all four of them. "Halle-fuckin'-lujah, not all of you Mexicans are bad." One easy way to spot a racist is to see how long it takes him to recognise the ethnicity of another. In Mal's case, it's a very short amount of time. Spices are also retrieved and added in with reasonable measure. Malcolm pretty much is in the process of making food for them all. And in the meantime, he strikes up conversation. After all, making food is boring as shit, might as well have some company. "You don't understand the US of A at all, kid. I didn't break in, that's how close friends enter each other's houses. You Chinese value your fuckin' doors way too much." It's hard to say how much that constantly puffed cigarette smoke is getting into the food, but at least he is close to finishing this one. The slavery comment does attract Mal's attention, but it does not garnet a response beyond an unimpressed iteration of a surprise, a sort of silent 'oh really' look. "Eeeh, I'll shoot him after lunch," Jim doesn't rise to the challenge to his American masculinity - have you /seen/ this place? He lives in a literal dirt pile in a skid-row apartment. Not a lot of pride to /worry/ about salvaging. He's instead wandering over to Ash, to lean over and inspect the broken window frame, "Sure got /carried away/, Uncle fucking Myers. You gonna pay me back now or later for the new window? I'll have my live-in /boy/ fix it." He even /SCRUFFLES/ Ash's hair when he says it, because he is terrible, adding, "Uh spices? Boy, I'll eat you under the table in a jalapeno-eating contest. Bring it on." Also bring-on the ash-laden eggs. Jim likes to keep a steady diet of cigarette flowing through his system. He'd probably eat that, too. He's pretty much an opportunistic culinary /goat/. "I am twenty now, you know. Not /exactly/ a boy anymore." Ash gives a small protest then finishes his work, smoothing over dirt he feels is glass shard free back into the bald spot. He sighs and rubs his forehead with the back of his hand, depositing new dirt there. "Oh, good. I wasn't sure about how much capsaicin I could bring into the apartment. It'll start following soon. How about you, Mei? Do you eat a lot of hot peppers in your cooking? Or you, Mr. Uncle fucking Myers?" Yes, the fucking is a part of his name. Mei is simply at a loss it seems. She shakes her head in absolute disbelief at what is going on, and how people are acting and retreats to a chair where she crosses her arms and sits down in a huff, just watching the other three interact, not trying to ask questions anymore or any of that. She clearly thinks whatever is going on is very strange and not at all right but she doesn't know why. So for not she sits there and listens and tries to follow the discussion. When Ash asks her a question she frowns as she tries to figure it out, English not being her first language and all. "Neh..... ah... No?" She ventures, thinking about it, and trying to answer properly, "No choose food for long time." First batch done. Since Ash was the first one was to claim a trio of eggs, he is the first one to get it. Malcolm is more graceful with cooking than he is with entering someone else's home. Despite the lacklustre ingredients, the food actually looks appetising. "Here you go, /luchador/." Hey, it rhymes. More eggs are smashed and poured unto the pan. "I'll eat just about anything, so long as I am the one who cooks it." The cigarette is smoked to the very filter. Many might have witnessed Mal litter on the street, but inside this house, he doesn't dare to-- he actually finds a trash can to dispose the fag in. Overhearing the conversation between Ash and Mei, Uncle fucking Myers exclaims pointedly, "Communism will fuckin' do that to ya. Well, you're about to taste best eggs 'n' bacon of your life. Tastes like fucking liberty." If only there were a counter of swear words nearby. With the pan having passed warm-up, the second batch takes a marginally shorter amount of time to prepare, and so the second plate is handed over to the would-be communist. Jim is not answered to in regards to the broken window, either delaying that issue or ignoring it for good. Instead, he questions the diverse trio aloud, "So, what's the story? Are you Charlemagne or do you just get weak at the thought of adopting a kid of every nationality?" Ash mentioning his age didn't get registered very well either, it looks like. "Got a brown one, a yellow one, just gotta get me a red one an' a black one and I'm got a full set." Jim's cigarette jumps and hops in and out of his lighter fire while he talks. "Asked you a question, diprag," he stoops, picks up a small nugget of dirt and mildly tosses it at the back of Mal's /neck/. Possibly it'll tumble down under his collar. "Nah. Ash there," hi, Ash, you're being introduced, "Is my roommate. An' the girl's the --," oh god he's actually saying this with MURPHY in mind, "--daughter of a friend of mine. Adopted. Like one of those designer Asian kids. For math and shit. Name's..." oh god, don't give out her real name, quick, think of a Chinese name, "-Kung Pao." There you go. "Well, you get to choose your food now..." Ash pauses, having already said the girl's name and now Jim comes up with a new one. crap. "Kung Pao." He accepts the plate and finds the forks so that food can be consumed. He starts cutting up his egg and feasting upon it. "So, basically, you're volunteering to be our chef to be paid in food?" Interesting. He heads to the fridge and gets out a bottle of hot sauce and then begins to squirt his eggs with the glorious red juice. Then he eats with gusto. Mei watches from the couch, sitting on one end of it, arms still crossed and obviously irritated at all of this as nothing is going as she would expect. She finally looks to Jim and says, "Many people break window, make food for you? Or you know cook man?" As if she's trying to figure out why Jim hasn't had a bigger reaction to the situation. She just can't seem to wrap her head around the reaction of Ash and Jim to the intrusion of this strange egg cooking person through the broken window. One thing that tight wife-beater is good for, it's not very likely something will run down to hide beneath it. The nugger of dirt happens to fly at him just as his back turns to everyone else - figures! It causes him to twitch and promptly turn to face Jim. "Watch where you fucking throw things, or you're getting /two/ eggs instead of three." An elderly tone does not suit him very well. "Pay for your own fucking window. I acted in self-defense." Against a window? The third batch is then worked on. "Cook for you in exchange for food? Hey, not a bad /idea/. Want me to wear a French maid outfit, too?" Yet Ash's suggestion isn't strictly speaking shot down. His eyes land on Mei, next. "Hey, /Kung Pao/, shut up and eat your fucking food." Whether he actually falls for the lied-about name is hard to say, but it's highly likely he's just being snide. His own introduction is forgone. He seems content with the whole Uncle shtick. Jim is once again addressed. "Oh, yeah-- You said you still need a red one? What, your freakishly freckled daughter don't count?" "This is my fuckin' house!" Jim protests /petulantly/ when Mal threatens to turn his Three-Egg-Breakfast car right around. But Daaaaad! "What my window ever do t'you, Uncle?" He's also wandering over to have a seat, sprawling across the couch. He's using his feet to shuck off either of his blue flip flops, his dry-flaky psoriasis-y feet a browned and hardened texture along the bottom. "Yyyeah, alright. French Maid costume," this is agreed on, "Fishnets. Heels. And you're on. Who cares." The smell of eggs is starting to keep his eyes /pinpointed/ on the fry pan in expectation while he talks. Peeer? Peeeeer. PEER. "Oh-oh, yeah. Her. Nah, that's my ginger; redheads only count as half-people anyway. I mean an Injun-red. REAL red." "Jim, are you hitting on him? I mean, he's a pretty attractive guy, but fishnets and heels?" Ash looks Mal over, falling silent to consider. Mei watches Mal, as he insults her. She frowns more then stands up. "Jim. I be back. Go to roof." She explains as she actually heads towards the door. Seems the surreal nature of this whole encounter has her off kilter and she needs some place to retreat to, and at least she says she's not going to leave the building, as she starts to retreat from the whole situation. Assuming no one stops her she'll work the locks on the door to exit the apartment. The claim to this apartment is largely ignored, as is the case of the broken window. Instead, Mal focuses on finishing the third batch, which he then promptly delivers to Jim. He lacks any kind of grace while doing so, so the addition of a French maid's outfit would make him look like the crankiest maid in existence. "Knock yourself out." Shortly afterwards, the frying pan is tended to once more, and finally Mal begins to work on his own portion. Never let it be said that the man doesn't have at least an ounce of decency - he feeds everyone else before he starts working on his meal. Hearing footsteps, he looks over his shoulder to see Mei leave. "Oh, great. Something about kids being sensitive, I guess." Entirely apathetic about the whole ordeal, he finishes up in the kitchen soon enough, after which he starts heading for the door himself. "Uncle fucking Myers, signing off." "You good here, Ash?" Jim takes his plate and instantly rolls /off/ the couch to follow after Mal. Yeah. Like they're gonna go hang out and be BROs together. "Lock the door, huh?" He's got to go bug a man about a FUCKING WINDOW. It's essentially another busy day in the Sunrise apartments, broken windows, theft, storming off - they're just short a screaming match and maybe the sound of a few gunshots. Though you never know - Jim /did/ promise to shoot Mal after lunch. The only thing that's just kind of understood? The idea of calling the cops? That just never comes up. Funny how that happens. "Yeah, sure. I'm good. I'll... go check on Mei in a minute." Ash goes about cleaning up and rescuing some of his precious dirt from the trash when he can use his powers to free it from glass. He also finds a golden sponge. Nifty! Time to add sponges to the shopping list.