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Diclaimer: I do not own Trigun, the characters from it, the Great American Smokeout, alarm clocks, pacifiers, or anything else presented aside from my own characters or ideas. Suing isn't nice. Please don't do it, OK? *gives big puppy eyes*
"Come on, finish your breakfast. We need to get to the hardware store and get the stuff to patch up that wall so we don't get mice in here."
Wolfwood stabs a fork at the scrambled eggs on his plate, attempting to ignore the oatmeal pudding in the dish beside it. "Milly, why do we even have mice here? I mean, this planet was settled by humans who should have known better than to bring pests with them-"
"Well, word is that some of everything was brought along for experiments and that it all got loose when the ships crashed."
"Where did you ever learn that-"
"You remember that night we were all talking when we were with the caravan?"
"Yeah, just one more question." Wolfwood stares at the bent fork and broken plate before him. "Why does there have to be some kind of puddin' at every meal? No wonder I have nightmares."
"That's mean! Oatmeal pudding is actually quite good. You broke the plate."
"Sorry, honey." Wolfwood sighs as he dresses for the day, realizing that a bathrobe and pants are not exactly the best dress for a day of shopping, although he wants to stay home in bed and sleep forever, sleep until his body finally stops screaming for cigarettes, or at least until this week is over. Meryl's and Milly's voices drift from the other room.
"Yeah. . .I don't think he's doing too well."
"Milly, tomorrow will be better for the both of you. Trust me on this-by the fifth day, all of this will be just a memory."
"I sure hope so, Sempai. I've never seen him like this for any reason. It's scary."
A few minutes later, Wolfwood attempts to start the motorcycle for the fifth time, slamming his fist into the dashboard as it kills out once more. "Nicholas, I don't think that will make it start."
"I know!" The priest mumbles a few invectives as he glares at the dashboard again, then finally starts the bike on the seventh try.
"I think we should take it to a real mechanic, darling."
"And where, do you propose, we pay for that? Look, we're still in debt from the hospital bills when you had Selphie and I'm still in debt from that $$400 bar tab Tongari left me with last month. Milly, you have to think!" he sighs as he throws the bike to a stop in front of the hardware store.
"It stresses you to think so much, darling. I don't have any stress at all, unlike you and Sempai seem to-"
"That's because we both have to do someone else's thinkin' too!"
"Look at that! That's the biggest icebox I've ever seen, darling." Milly points to the central display of December Hardware-an almost eight foot tall refrigerator.
"Now honey, I don't think we need that."
"Why not? Everyone would come to our house just to see it, and maybe we could charge visitors at the door for the orphanage fund-"
Wolfwood resists the urge to repeatedly strike his head against a hard object nearby. Normally, he found Milly's albeit intellectually lacking chatter engaging, even charming, but over these last few days, few things could be more annoying, especially when he was experiencing a craving for tobacco at the same time.
"Let's just get what we need to fix that wall and get out of here. I'm not feelin' good, honey." A small, white, tubular object in the refrigerator draws his attention. "Could it actually be-" he lunges for the object, only to hear the close of the door behind him and realize that he is now holding a rolled-up flier. "'Looking for a smoke? The Great Sandy Planet Smokeout is your greatest opportunity to quit smoking today-'" He begins pounding on the door, kicking it, hoping to somehow free himself from this prison, then screaming.
Milly realizes that she is absolutely lost a few displays away, then wanders for a second before hearing the pounding and yelling and following it to the refrigerator display. "Nicholas! I see you liked it so much you went inside for a look!"
"Get me out of here!"
"You want out? All right, but why did you close yourself in there in the first place?"
"Don't ask! Just get me-"
Milly pulls on the door a few minutes, but even she isn't strong enough to open it. "Hey, lady! That door is a combination lock! This refrigerator is a safe as well, made that way to prevent burglars from stealing rare food and alcohol! There's no way even someone as big as you could open it without knowing the combination."
"Oh, no! My husband is locked in there! Do you have the combination?"
"No! It's on file at the locksmith's office! And the locksmith just left for Arcadia for two weeks! Now I'll never sell my refrigerator. . ." The store owner begins crying as a small crowd gathers around the refrigerator.
"It's hot as the desert in here! Milly, do somethin'!"
"Is there any pudding in there?"
"No! No pudding! Get-me-out!" The scream causes some people to move back, a few others to peer through the refrigerator's window at a very flustered priest.
Milly glares at everyone. "Get back! Out of my way!" To everyone's shock, she pulls out a huge stunner chaingun and fires at the refrigerator twice, only serving to push the icebox over. Wolfwood had prepared as best as he could for that eventuality, nevertheless he feels pain flare through his wounds as he lands in a rather undignified manner, curled up on his side with his face somewhere near his knees. He stares up through the window to see Milly's face.
"Are you OK, darling?"
"Yeah, but a few more times of that or another hour in here and I won't be. Call the fire department or somethin'!"
"I'm on it!"
Within the next few minutes, Wolfwood sighs at the crowd gathered around him: firemen from the December City Fire Department working on the seal and lock, various townspeople, reporters from the satellite radio outpost and the local newspapers, more gawking onlookers, and even someone running a concession. "Milly, tell him all that money's goin' to the orphanage."
"I will, darling. Are you all right?"
"Not now," Wolfwood sighs once more as he sees a flash of blonde hair and red coat in the side of the window. "Why does he always have to be here when somethin' like this happens? Why?"
"Don't worry about it, they almost have you out of there! Just a few more minutes!"
"Milly, honey. . .tell me what Tongari is doin' here."
"Oh yeah, he was in here shopping for something. Then he heard everyone yelling that a priest was stuck in the refrigerator and-"
"Just let me die in here. . ."
"Now that is a really really mean thing to say, Nicholas Wolfwood! I never ever want to hear you say anything like that again!" Milly punches the place by the seal, and the door flies open, knocking an astounded fireman deciphering the combination to the ground.
"How did she do that. . ."
Another fireman and Milly help Wolfwood to his feet as the store owner runs to them. "That refrigerator was custom-made, and your. . .your antics have caused me to lose a $$2,000 double dollar profit! You'd better have some way of paying me back!"
Milly smiles. "My hazard pay check came today. Here."
Wolfwood grouches as Milly finishes the negotiations to have the icebox that is too big for their home to be delivered to it nevertheless. "Wolfwood! You mean you're buying that monstrosity-"
"Not like I want to, Tongari."
"I'd better get home. Last time I was late from an errand, Meryl screamed at me."
"Yeah. . .don't want that." Wolfwood remembered the last fight Vash and Meryl had, which was more like a one-sided temper tantrum by Meryl complete with screaming heard an ile away, the breaking of almost anything breakable inside the house, and the sheriff coming out to their neighborhood at 2:00 that morning. In his current condition, such noise might throw him into utter insanity. "That is, if I'm not insane already. How could I have mistaken a flier for a cigarette. I guess it's true that I am addicted. . ."
A few hours later, Milly finishes patching up the hole in the wall at their house, having taken the job since Wolfwood had walked away from it in frustration after hammering his trembling hands rather than the nails on the boards. She walks into the kitchen, looking at Wolfwood sitting at the table, almost frantically rolling basil and cloves into the paper flier from earlier. "That won't help you, Nicholas. Besides, you're wasting all my good cooking spices."
"I don't know! I'm so sick of feelin' like I'm-"
"It will be over soon. It's not as bad as it was the first day, now is it?"
"On the first day, I didn't lose $$2,000 double dollars."
"Maybe if you tried to sleep earlier, you'd feel better."
"Milly?"
"Yeah?"
"Have another one of those pacifiers? It didn't do much, but it was better than nothin.'"
"Sure, here." Milly stares at the other pacifier lying on the table, now mere plastic shreds. "You will be better soon, darling."
"I hope." More hours pass, and Wolfwood finds himself staring at Milly, wide awake despite the late hour and the fact that he should be asleep. "What is that miserable racket?" Wolfwood leans his head onto the table. "Someone make it stop. Please. . .please make it stop."
"Oh, that's the party down the street. Some new neighbors moved in a week ago, although Meryl's been the only person to see them, and she's not telling who they are. Either way, they've decided to have some rather loud house parties. I'm surprised the one last night didn't wake you."
"I was too busy havin' nightmares. Look, I can't take any more!" The priest slams a fist onto the table, then storms out the door not even caring that he is dressed in a kimono and slippers, that he has another pacifier hanging from his mouth, as he runs the block to the house. He soon realizes that he isn't alone-neighbors appearing just as miserable as he are advancing on the party house from every direction, although he is at the lead of them all. The priest moans as he pounds on the door, finally screaming a few epithets as the door opens.
"Spiders. Do you not like the party Master has decided to hold for the enjoyment of all?"
Wolfwood angrily glares into the almost sparkling golden eyes meeting his own in a defiant smile. "You-you were supposed to be dead!"
"As were you."
"Maybe I could kill you right now!"
"And I, you. Master would be most pleased."
The men are standing toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose, glaring as the sound of a siren rings through the air. "Sheriff!"
"We're running-where? Why are we running!" One of the party attendees dives for a nearby fence, another runs down the street screaming. A small, light whirlwind passes by as Legato and Knives disappear, and Wolfwood finds himself standing alone amidst booming music, the remains of a party, and holding the cord to a boombox in his fingers.
"Well, well. So you're the person hosting this. Would you happen to know that it is 3:00 in the morning, and that some people are attempting to sleep?"
Wolfwood looks at the sheriff, deputy sheriff, and the angry crowd of neighbors. "It really wasn't me! The owners of this house are Millions Knives and Legato Bluesummers! I don't know where they went, but-"
"Oh yeah, blame it on someone else. Look, Millions Knives and Legato Bluesummers are killers, fiends! What would they be doing hosting something so trivial as a party? Anyway, if either of them were around, you should have told us earlier. Here's your citation for failing to report a fugitive and for creating a disturbance."
Wolfwood crumples the ticket in his hand as he walks back home. "So what was all that. Someone called the cops."
"You wouldn't believe it if I told you. However, if Knives and Legato have mellowed out to simply being the world's worst excuses for neighbors, I think somethin' may be right with everything, you know?"
"Wasn't Legato supposed to be dead?"
"Wasn't I? Anyway, that's none of our business." he breathes in deeply, falling asleep a few minutes later to the sound of Milly's snoring.
"Hisssssss. . .gyorrrrk. . .pudding. . .strawberry. . .vanilla. . .hissssssss, snorrrt, gooo. Yeah, I want pudding. What do you mean you don't have any? Meanie!" Wolfwood falls out of bed a second later, having just been hit with a flying tackle from Milly. "Now you never waste pudding again! How mean! Hissssssss, gyoooooork. . ."
The priest looks up from his position on the floor. "I hate it when she has that dream."