Legal Junk: I don't own Gundam Wing, nor do I own "Dude, Where's my Car?", Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, or any other scenes and quirks from various movies portrayed in this rather disturbing fic, a brainchild of too much Mountain Dew, and a very creepy imagination. (I really don't know what possessed me to right this one, really I have no clue. Blame my muse, if you need to.)
AN/Warnings: Rampant OOCness, cussing, and distastefully sexual and crude jokes ahead. I warned you.
Genre(s): AU, parody, humor (I tried.) bad vulgarity.
Setting: the day after the war ended in 195 (a colony in the L1 cluster)
Remember, I warned you!! (Turn back kiddies, this one ain't for you.)
"How many strange mornings and weird nights had this shit been going on?"
-Johnny Depp as "Raul Duke", Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
With a groan, the unmoving body laying on the floor of the soiled carpet of the hotel room miraculously came to life. The figure slowly stirred, opening his eyes and blinking rapidly, gradually getting accustomed to the bright light that gnawed away at his brain. Finally, the boy struggled to get up, with the assistance of a blow up doll he had found himself draped over.
"Aaahh . . . Mimi, thank God . . . "
So the bastards hadn't gotten her. He had a frightening nightmare that thousands of evil little sock puppets had attacked her in a blind rage, and-
Whoa, wait a minute, Maxwell, let's just take this one step at a time. Mimi? Sock puppets? What the hell are you on, buddy?
Duo shook his frazzled mind, trying hard to grasp at the brutish reality of the situation which kept slipping through his fingers. He got up, stumbling slightly, and rubbed his eyes at the site which lay before him. He couldn't take it in all at once, hi mind slowly feeding it to him in pieces.
A pyramid of crushed up beer cans. A bed with a hole burnt into the naked mattress, still smoking. "He lives" written on the wall, in ketchup. Or at least, Duo hoped it was ketchup. He suddenly felt sick.
Duo ran to the kitchen, one hand covering his mouth as he dashed for the sink, tripping over a string of Christmas lights on the way. As he neared the sink, stomach churning, what he saw lying in the few inches of brown water made him stop cold in his tracks, his nausea forgotten.
A gun. Heero's gun.
Oi, what happened last night? I didn't kill anybody, did I? Suddenly, a more unnerving thought came to his mind, Did Heero kill anybody?
"Hey, Heero, buddy! Are you here?!" he called, not expecting an answer.
But a soft groan coming from the bathroom responded to his scream anyway.
Duo followed that painful howl, and what he beheld was a comical sight, if not disturbing.
It was Heero, all right. Heero in the massive Jacuzzi. Heero floating on a black inner tube, wearing a pink tutu and a party hat in the massive Jacuzzi. Heero with one hand clutching a can of Fluffy Whip and in the other police man's night stick in the massive Jacuzzi. Heero wearing a snorkel and flippers in the massive Jacuzzi.
Slowly, ever so slowly, consciousness returned painfully to Heero Yuy's body, although he wasn't sure if he wanted it to. He didn't have much choice, as a loud "HEY, HEERO!" caused him to open his eyes, but he immediately snapped them shut again, as the light filtering in from the other room beat away at his foggy brain like a jackhammer.
"Baka Maxwell. . . go away. . . " Heero muttered, lowering himself again onto the cushiony thing he was sitting on, fully expecting it to press against him, as he believed it to be a bed, but when his weight hit the inner tube and pushed the air all to the left side-
"GGGGWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUHHHHHHH!!!!"
-it capsized, leaving him sputtering and dripping wet with cold, funny smelling water. Heero frantically sloshed about, trying to regain his bearings.
Duo stumbled into the room, grabbing onto the doorknob to steady himself, as there was whipped cream and silly string strewn about the white tiled floor, making mobility a difficult thing.
"Hey, Heero, buddy, you okay?"
Heero stood up, looking at his hands with disbelief. With a repulsed and confused expression, the boy immediately released the night stick, sending it into the "water" with a soft plop.
"Duo. . ." Heero started, eyeing the Fluffy Whip can in his left hand and furthermore, the handcuff on his wrist, hacked off half way, "I never thought I ask you this, but. . . what did we do last night?"
Duo's eyes traveled to his own wrist, and was mortified to see that the other half of the pair of handcuffs were latched firmly onto his wrist.
"What did we do last night?"