mayfield_logs | closed

closed

Who: Audrey and Once-ler
What: The traditional response to calling a person a "disgusting monster" is to present the Cupcakes of Forgiveness.
Where: wherever they live idk
When: Wednesday morning

[Audrey wakes up on a park bench Wednesday morning with a vague recollection of what had just happened and a perfectly crystallized memory of telling off Mr. B-- no, it's Mr. Once-ler now, isn't it? That... is going to require some words. And possible bribery so she can go back into the house. Sleeping on a wooden bench isn't nearly as fun as it sounds.

One quick trip to the bakery later, and Audrey is walking back to her house, a box of cupcakes in hand.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[you know what? he could live without seeing another cupcake for the rest of his life. if you would have asked him about his feelings on the issue a week or two ago, he would've had to think about it long and hard (because who could ever hate a cupcake? seriously, they're the most peaceful of all the desserts, right up there with pudding and slightly below strawberry stroodledoodles), but now? if he has to look at another cupcake, if he even has to think about sprinkles or chocolate icing, he's going to throw up. again.

the bad tummyache coupled with the faint but distinct aftertaste of sugar in his mouth is the only evidence he has that something went wrong this weekend. his memories... well, they're not nearly as trustworthy, and that's the saddest part because admitting that feels like admitting that he can't even count on himself to remember the precise point where he screwed up. he knows he messed up again, but he doesn't know why. what prompted him to go out and throw all their grocery money down on pastries? what provoked him to get so defensively, manically upset when Rapunzel left the house? thinking about that cute number really makes him ill, more-so than the stupid cupcakes, because then his memory latches onto the only recollection that isn't muddled: anger.

he remembers being angry. not just irritated or even horribly frustrated, but viciously mad. it's the kind of bitterness you can feel all the way down to your bones. it doesn't just go away, it stews. even after Audrey left, he knows for a fact - and don't ask him how - that he may have hated her for it, almost as much as he hated her for calling him a monster.

it's the closest he's ever come to genuinely hating a person and...it scares him. it really, truly does. he hates himself for screaming at her when he had no right to, almost as much as he hates himself for telling her his real name for NO EXPLICABLE REASON (good going, genius!), he hates cupcakes, he hates this stupid town, and...he really hates the word "hate". an awful, ugly word for equally awful, ugly people.

well, at least he'll have time to reflect on it alone. when Audrey returns to the house, she'll notice that the curtains have been drawn and that, aside from the drone son, there doesn't seem to be anyone inside. the door's locked tight but the window to Rapunzel and Once-ler bedroom is wide open.

he's laying on the bed inside, dozing off as he stares up at the ceiling. it was a mistake to even leave the house to begin with; he should have stuck to his guns and kept inside as he had back home. look what happens when he doesn't.]

[Click.

Click.

Clickclick.

Little pebbles are being thrown at the open window, clattering against the shutters and the bedroom floor.]

[and coincidentally on his face. one of them hits him right in the nose and he bolts up, rubbing at the area. he glances over at the window, somehow feeling like he already knows what he's going to find when looks out.

and what do you know? he wasn't wrong.]

...

[he catches her mid-throw with a considerably more sizable rock. she drops it immediately.]

Mr. Once-ler? Um, the front door is locked.

[like he doesn't already know.]

[thank goodness, that could have taken an eye out. he relaxes a teensy bit, not as fully prepared to duck behind the windowsill as he was before.]

Well. Yeah. [not quite a mumble, not quite a sigh. he sounds just as strung out as he looks.] That's because I locked it.

[you got a problem with that? yeah, that's what he thought.

it numbly occurs to him that he's got to let her in that, if he doesn't, she'll just find another way in. and if she doesn't, then she could get in trouble. wasn't the town awfully touchy about this sort of thing? that's what he heard, but...

he couldn't care less. not right now.]

...Can you go away? [please?]

[oh, wow, that's harsh. she supposes she deserves it, though.]

I wanted to say I was sorry. And, look-- [she holds out the box in front of her, like an offering.] -- I brought you something!

[who said it was directed at her? if he's mad at anyone here, it's himself.]

For what? [to be fair, he doesn't sound or look particularly angry. just...drained, in every sense of the word, emotionally and physically. not even the sight of the box jogs his attention, although he does seem to consider it for a very long time, like he's judging it.] You didn't have to. I bet you have better things to waste your money on.

[girly things, maybe. dresses and ballet shoes and...Barbie dolls? girls like those, right?]

Sorry it had to be me. [he reaches out, preparing to shut the window.]

For calling you all those terrible names-- please, don't close the window. [she sounds like she's begging, almost, as she steps closer to the house.] Can we just talk about this or something?

[his hand stops inches away from the curtain, finger shaking against the pleasant floral-patterned fabric. no. no, no, no -]

Talk? [he laughs, and the resulting noise is throaty and choked - all shades of pitiful.] Talk about what? Our feelings? Good idea! I'll save you the trouble.

[he clears his throat and starts speaking in a laughably bad, high falsetto, no doubt meant to be an imitation of her voice.]

"I'm sooo sorry for all the namecalling! It was, like, wrong and stuff even though you totally deserved it for being a disgusting jerk! Seeing as how I have a thing for living with awful people, please accept my bribe so I can go on staying with you, which will in no way be painful and awkward for the both of us. Tee hee!"

[and yes, that last bit was totally necessary. fight him.]

[her first reaction is to say I don't sound like that!, but she manages to quell the urge. this man is obviously messed up beyond her limited capacity to understand messed up stuff, which means she will have to be the mature and stable half of this conversation. no problem. she can do that. she's a teenager. maturity is her thing.]

None of it was even real! We were acting like completely different people; we can't blame each other for that! I mean, we didn't even have any control over it!

T-That's... That's not the point! [plus, it's logical. it makes it seem like it isn't really his fault to begin with, which he knows for certain isn't true.] And besides, it wasn't...completely fake.

[he very nearly squeaks out that last sentence and, if you notice, he's shifting against the window like he's ready to duck at a moment's notice for fear of any other rocks she might have on her. if she didn't feel like lobbing more at him before, surely she will now, right?]

Mine was. I thought my best friend was dead.

[she sounds entirely too cheery about all this, and is tentatively smiling up at him.] Come on, Mr. Once-ler, it can't be all that bad!

And they aren't? [he peeks up again, curious but wary.] What about Thneedville? You said it was bad before, b-but...I didn't know it was that terrible.

[he never noticed it before, but the real Audrey is such a far cry from the fake one he spent the weekend avoiding. he doesn't know what he's done to deserve such kindness, especially after the awful things he said to her. even if he didn't mean any of it, he finds it weird that she's entirely too forgiving and it's frustrating. he slams his fist on the windowsill and immediately cringes after.]

Yes, it is! You don't even know the half of it! Take your town for example - you wanna know why it's the way it is? Why there aren't any trees?

[he takes a deep breath. come on, he already came this far. what else has he got to lose?]

...It's because of me.

It's not! I mean, it's not a really nice place to live, but it's not that... it's not whatever they made me think it was. It was never that bad.

[she's quiet for a little while after he says that. maybe a little part of her had hoped that had been a lie, too.]

... It can't be all your fault. You're just one person.

[that lends him pause. he stares down at her, trying to gauge her expression; whether or not she's lying to him. it doesn't seem like she is. she doesn't look like the lying type, unless he's not seeing a completely different side to her.]

You're being sold something you could get for free. In my book, that's pretty darn bad. Unscrupulous, even. Take it from me, I can spot shady business practices in the dark a mile away. With sunglasses on.

[standing like this is getting tiring, so he leans fully against the windowsill now, resting his arms and eventually his head on it.]

Sometimes all it takes is one person. It's even worse when you add a good idea into the mix. Add them together and it's doubly dangerous.

At least O'Hare never messed with our heads. Not like this crazy place. [she gestures to the town around them.]

... Okay, so let's say it is all your fault-- so what? Are you just going to sit around and feel sorry for yourself forever? That can't be healthy.

The point is, he wouldn't even be around if it wasn't for me. I'm the one who cut down all the trees. That makes me directly responsible for everything bad that's happened to your town since then.

[a pause.]

My town.

[and to think, he had such high hopes for Thneedville. it was going to be the best of its kind, the only of its kind, and now look at it: it's been taken over by some megalomaniac of a snake oil salesman. what a way to go.]

Define healthy. This is actually really logical if you think about it. Up here, I can't hurt anybody.

Well, my definition of "healthy" is "not locking myself up in my room because I don't want to face my problems," but I may just be crazy like that.

[siiiiigh] Could you at least come let me in? Please? I need to take a shower.

I'll say. That's not what it's under in the dictionary.

[he considers this for a while before sighing. sure, why not? he straightens up again.]

Fine, whatever. Hold on.

[he walks away from the window, disappearing back into the room.]

Yeah, well, maybe dictionaries-- [oh he already left.

awkward.

just gonna wait out here, then.]

[she'll be waiting for a while. come on, did you really think it would be that easy? this is the Once-ler we're talking about.

it takes him several minutes and a trip into the basement to find what he's looking for. the rope is a leftover from the pre-prom escapades with Haruko. the bucket was under the sink, right next to the most disgusting sponge Once-ler has ever laid eyes on. seriously, he's STILL wiping his hands on his pants even now as he ties the rope around the bucket's handle in a tight knot. when that's done, in goes one of his house keys.

gosh, was he smooth.

he takes the bucket and the coil of rope over to the window and peeks out.]

'kay, it's coming down.

[and he slowly begins to lower it down.]

[she gives him a Look.

a "are you serious is this actually happening oh god you are aren't you" kind of Look.

but, whatever, she can roll with this. it's not the weirdest thing she's seen all week. she takes the key when it finally gets close enough to her.] Thanks.

[and now she's off to unlock the front door exciting adventures in mayfield]

[he cups his hands around his mouth and leans out the window.]

Watch out for the doormat!

[slowly

turns

around]

... Why?

Because! [that sure is an answer, huh.]

Walk around it.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject