Kuwahawi Drift

WE NOW RETURN TO THE MAIN ZFRP-VERSE!

~KUWAHAWI PELE-PELE FREEWAY~ 

"This is probably a bad idea," said Stephen over the engine's impatient growl.

He wasn't totally inaccurate. The car in question was a beat-up Toyota AE86 Sprinter Trueno, a relic of the 80's that had somehow lumbered along into the present day in defiance of time itself. The question of where or how it had been acquired had never been answered, since the person who'd purchased it - Murdoc - had responded with "never again" and then buggered off to get drunk. The engine made weird knocking noises if it went above fifty, the clutch was a little sticky and somebody had drawn a penis in Sharpie on the bonnet. It was not an ideal car to race in.

But then Murdoc had made a bet with some shark-man that he could beat their time in the mountain road that connected Kuwahawi's central city with the coast. And then an even more pissed Noodle had announced that her Wendigo boyfriend could trash both of them. Stephen, who was nowhere near as drunk, had tried to be polite about it, but the glint of the shark's teeth in the sunlight had shut him up long enough for Murdoc to slam two thousand dollars onto the table. And by the time he realised what had happened, Noodle had already downed her eight can and dragged him off to do practice laps.

Which was why he was here now. And reiterating that he thought that this was a bad idea.

Saturnz Barz

The house was clearly old. It was the sort of house some rich, colonialist toff would build as a summer home, a chunk of old Victorian England admist the quaint backdrop of sea breeze and coconut oil. Apparently there had been murders, occult rituals and other nasty things going on in here, which is why the place had been left to rot and gather cobwebs, heavy with rumours of strange noises and sightings. The fact that it was still standing was a miracle, not a testament to the quality of the building material or the workmen involved.

In short, it was pretty shit. But the Gorillaz and Stephen needed a place to stay, and there had been whispers of a basement perfect for recording music. Which, honestly, was all you needed as far as a band who hadn't made new music for six years was concerned.

It was the usual balmy, tropical Kuwahawi weather when the band pulled up outside - perfect for sunbathing, swimming or very alcoholic drinks. So when Murdoc rang the doorbell, expecting to meet whoever the landlord of this place was, the sudden crack of lightning followed by rain was a little odd. But then again, the gang all together had seen odder things in their lives, so nobody did much more than duck under the overhanding porch roof for protection, assuming this to be just a freak tropical storm.

"Loudest doorbell I ever heard," Murdoc observed, staring intently at the button.

The door opening by itself, however, was a new one. Nobody had quite expected that.

G-Bitez: Hangover

Stephen didn't want to wake up. The weather outside was typical Canada winter, all snow and frost and biting cold, and all he wanted to do was curl up in his big comfy bed and hibernate. The only problem was that Noodle wasn't there to share it, but he could take or leave that as long as it meant he didn't have to leave the bed. And, on top of that, he had a throbbing headache that, he suspected, might have had something to do with last night's celebrations.

But for some reason, breathing through his nose was a problem. So he had to get up to fix that, and that meant getting out of bed. For some reason, his antlers felt rather heavy, and it took a bit more effort to lift his head off of the pillow than it usually did, making him grunt as he hauled himself upright. As far as he knew, they'd never grown as heavy as this - in fact, as he pawed sleepily as his own face, he was pretty sure they didn't rustle, either...

And that was when the clown nose fell off.

"What?" he asked, still half-awake and very confused.

It was to be the start to a very long morning indeed.