Uhm… I'd be much happy if you didn't shoot me for this… I know it's been a long time DX plz forgive me! School has been the biggest thing in my life for awhile now and exams are coming up soon (almost directly after break) so I'm kinda takin a risk here. But oh, well, this is just the thing I need to calm down. I encourage you to leave comments as always, and also as always, I love all of you who have stuck by me through my extended absence :)

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Murdoc rolled over in the bed, Stu was still slumbering next to him.'E looks even stupideh when 'e's asleep… He sighed to himself a moment later. Why is 'at so attrac'tive on 'im? He ran his greeny unkempt hands through his oily black hair and sat up. Now that it occurred to him… He was a ghost wasn't he? He could interact with inanimate things, such things existed within both planes and hence could be touched in both. Living and dead things, existed behind the barriers between the planes. Something dead could use an inanimate object to hurt a living thing, but could not hurt it directly unless it was a full possession… 2D was the only exception to this rule… Murdoc couldn't really help but wonder why… Anyway, he was here for scaring people, wasn't he?

He looked down at the man again and couldn't suppress the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth. Ewe're so dumb spiritual law doesn't apply ta ya. He somewhat thought it strange that Noodle couldn't see him while 2D could, he waved off the questions, they had a time and a place. Their time and place was definitely not 6:57 AM in Stuart's bed. He yawned widely before swinging his legs out of the bed and standing. He had grown accustomed to the strange sensation of shifting his clothes, the sensation was about the same as shifting his whole shape, but in that case, the feeling was felt throughout the being. In the case of clothes, it was only the surface that held the uncomfortable and unexplainable feeling.

He remembered last night, before he or Stu fell asleep and they were just laying there together. Stu had asked him "Wot'sit loik? Ta do tha' whole switchin' clothin' fing?"

"Loike an itch ye can't scratch." He mumbled his answer absently to himself and scratched his arm.

Stuart turned over in bed at the noise and feeling the lack of a mass next to him in the bed. Murdoc didn't seem to notice, he seemed to have been stuck between two decisions and was debating each of them in his head. After a moment he turned toward the door and started to head up.

"Muhdoc?" He moaned, unable to sit up due to the pains in his lower back and rump. The bassist stopped halfway up the first step and looked back.

"Mornin' face-ache."

"'Ere ya goin'?" Murdoc tightened his right hand into a fist. Why was he getting angry about this? It was a perfectly logical question and it's not like he had told Stuart everything about what his requirements while on Earth were. He looked over his shoulder to the blue-haired man who had since recoiled at the sight of Murdoc's dreadful aura. "Wo-wot ya angry 'bout now?" He whimpered, inching towards the other side of the bed.

"Who says 'm angry?" He sure sounded angry…

"Uhm, euh… Well…" Murdoc's brow furrowed, now he was getting annoyed. What was that one Satanist commandment? If one is annoying to you destroy him? Yeah, that sounded about right. He sighed in frustration realizing that really would get him no where he hadn't already been with the singer.

"'M noh angry Stu. Buh ewe'r annoyin' me now." He turned his back to him and trudged the rest of the way up the stairs.

2D couldn't help but look after Murdoc as he headed up the stairs. Why was he in such a bad mood this morning? Had he not enjoyed last night? Or was it simply because he, being Murdoc, didn't like the mornings? 2D was willing to go with the latter as it was less depressing to him.

It had been about two months since the surly bassist's return, to be exact it had been sixty-three days. 2D had been counting. Even after such a time, and even after knowing the bassist for a hell of a lot longer before now, he couldn't help but fantasize about him whenever he left his presence. Lucky for Stu Murdoc was inside his mind most of the hours of the day. It was these rare times when Murdoc was not with him did Stu's brain really love to entertain him. He sighed softly and leaned his face on his hand.

Meanwhile, Murdoc had mischief on his mind. That and ringing up his otherworldly lawyer about how his work was going. He figured he'd better get the more inane of the two done first. He walked into the bathroom and found himself a mirror. He wasn't at all surprised to find his reflection to be a little more than a sickly, green glow. Apparently, he was supposed to give a report at the end of every month. He had been yelled at last month for not doing so. Bloody bastards didn' even tell me I 'ad to. He grumbled internally as he leaned on the rim of the sink. He glared up at the mirror as he tried to remember exactly what he was supposed to do with this stupid thing. After awhile, he turned the hot water handle from the sink on to full force, he rested back as the steam fogged up the mirror.

He took a callused finger and drew the numbers 620-97-845 in the steam and waited. After a moment, the reflective surface blurred until it was no longer reflecting the bathroom at all. He was met by the image of a dull blonde-haired man with silver-grey eyes, wearing a black formal shirt and black tie. He had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and looked rather tired. The image shook a little, most likely he had picked up the mirror he was using.

"Hello, sir, what can I do for you?" Another American demon! Murdoc made a growling noise in the back of his throat, frustrated. The blonde haired demon raised an eyebrow at him. "Begging your pardon, sir. But I don't believe we've ever spoken before." The blonde-haired one exhaled a puff of smoke from his nose. Murdoc growled again at this realization, he'd used the wrong number. "Have you perhaps called the wrong number?"

"No, wha'eva gave ya tha' idea mor'n?" The demon did not appear at all fazed by Murdoc's less than savory attitude. He simply inhaled again and exhaled another puff of smoke.

"Is there someone in particular I can connect you to? I can do a quick check. You were looking for someone near Belpre Kansas correct?"

"What? Kansas? Why th' fuck would I be lookin' fer someone in Kansas?!" The demon still seemed more tired than annoyed, he must've had the patients of a saint.

"I don't know sir. Am I correct in saying that you are from the British Isles?"

"Nah, I jus' always love ta imitate a Brit."

"Well, just because you are from there doesn't really mean that you're going to be assigned to a demon within the country. Hell's processing network is rather strange in set up as I'm sure you're aware of. Anyway, what is the name of your processor?"

"I dunno 'is fuckin' name!"

"Well I'm sorry, I can't help you then."

"Are all ewe 'Merican's 'is incompetent?" The demon sarcastically raised his brow line, his cigarette was burning at the filter, he didn't really seem to care. Despite the lack of smoke to inhale, the demon exhaled a long stream of black smoke.

"Sir, if you can't even remember your own processor's name then I believe it is you who is the incompetent one. However, I can tell you're still new to all this shit. So simply tell me what your processor looks like and I will see what I can do." He did have the patients of a saint, what was he doing as a demon? The demon's profound inability to become truly irritated about anything Murdoc said annoyed the hell out of him.

"Woy would I-"

"Sir, do you want help or not?" The demon cut him off and stubbed out the burning filter.

Noh from ewe ya queer! Murdoc grumbled to himself and ground his teeth in frustration.

"Obviously not… Well, good luck sir, I hope you have fun being fucked over." The surface of the mirror blurred again and there the bassist was staring at the image of the bathroom again.

"Th' bloody bastard hung up on me!"

"Muhdoc, 'ave ya jus' been yellin' at th' mirra 'is 'ole time?"

"Shuh up faggot!" 2D yelped and took a step back. Murdoc growled in the back of his throat and rubbed his face. "'M really pissed off righ' now 2D. Leh's jus' say it's noh in yer bes' int'rest ta stick 'round, savvy?" 2D swallowed, he knew that tone anywhere, it was the one that hissed into your ear "you're going to be reduced to a smear on the floor if you don't leave now".

"Buh, uhm…"

"Face-aaaache…" Murdoc growled, balling his hands up into fists. 2D slowly backed up towards the door and pressed his back to it while groping for the handle.

"Jus' geh out already!!!" Murdoc roared in an awful demonic double timbre. 2D spun around and flung the door open, bolting out into the corridor. C'n still puh th' fear o' Satan in 'im. Murdoc smirked to himself and turned back to the mirror, 2D had improved his mood and now it was time to channel it into something productive… He chuckled lowly in the back of his throat and turned away from the mirror, heading for the exit of the bathrooms. Time fer some actual fun.

"Aw c'mon man!" Russle had just now come across the mess 2D and Murdoc had left in the studio kitchen the night before. He and Noodle still had not come to a conclusive answer as to whether the two really were doing things together or not and had since decided the only way they would be able to get such an answer would be to catch them in the act… Although, this was not a very pleasing idea at all… When Noodle proposed it, it left Russle with nightmares that night. This, to Russle anyway, seemed more like a crime scene. There was blood smeared on the couch and all manner of objects on the floor. "I swear I'm killin' Muds the moment I get the chance." Russle ground his teeth and began the task of cleaning up the mess.

Thunk!

"Ow!" Russle stood back up rubbing his abused cranium. "What the hell was that?" He looked around for what had hit him. A soup can… He picked up the can and examined it. It was just a regular soup can. "Hmmm…" He looked up to the open cupboard and just decided that it had fallen from there… Although, it had hit him at the completely wrong angle to have been from that… He looked around the room again.

"I told D to lock the goddamn doors at night! Damn demons." He made his way around the grouping of three rooms. Inspecting the desk room first and then the guitar room.

Thud!

"Dammit!" He grumbled sitting back on his knees after tripping over a microphone stand. "Today either isn't my day or there is some blasted demon in this house!" A drumstick collided with the side of his head. He reached up and rubbed his temple, he growled to himself and stood up, correcting the mic stand as he did. He gave the room a cursory inspection before turning around and slamming his face into the closed door. "When the… GRAAAH!!" He grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open without turning the knob. He then surveyed the damage to the door… Not only had he successfully removed the handle from the door but had also broken the wood framing around the latch… Perfect.

"… Someone's fuckin' with me." He could've swore at that moment there was a throaty laugh somewhere in the studio kitchen. If there was an owner, or even if it had a source at all, it was not to be seen. He looked back down at the mess and seriously considered cleaning it up again… Nah, don't do that man, that's what it wants you ta do… However, the mess was just begging to be cleaned up and it was annoying the ever-livin' out of him. He vowed to fix the door later and picked up the blood stained pillows, being slow and deliberate in all his movements. All the while being careful to watch everything he could at once. It was at this time, a salsa bottle chose to break itself over Russle's head.

"Woah!" He fell forward and ate the wonderful grey carpeting, holding his head. What the hell was that? He rolled onto his back, glass from the broken bottle dug into his back and further soaked him in Pace. "Ugh…" He rubbed his head, how many things could one demon find to whack him in the head with in one room? More like two rooms… He reminded himself.

"I need a shower." He stood up and looked down at the new mess staining the floor. He sighed and picked up the pillows again. Happy that no object connected with his head again.

"Ah…" Russle sighed as he washed the glass out of his back and cleaned the salsa off his shining, if not slightly dented head. Somebody's fuckin' with me today… I just know it… After making sure everything was all nice and squeaky clean he stepped out of the shower and looked for his towel… Which was… Nowhere to be seen… However, there was a nice pair of Noodle's underwear with a rainbow on the front… In that instant, it all clicked. "Murdoc!!"

"So, how, are your haunting hours going Mr. Niccals?" The demon on the other side of the mirror asked as he put his music magazine down.

"'Is all goin' quite smashingly if I do say so meself." Messing with Russle when he could do nothing and when he was completely clueless about it was always fun and would put anyone in a good mood.

"Oh, good then. Have you given any thought as to what kind of demon you wish to become?" Murdoc raised an eyebrow at this, he could choose? "Ah, I see the look on your face. In the end it's left up to Satan who becomes what. But, if you have a species in mind he usually grants it, being a busy man and all, it makes things easier." The demon fixed his red tie as it appeared to be too tight on him.

"Do I get ta pick anna one I want?" Creatures like incubi, Mammon, Lucifer, Berith, Gressil, Sonneillon, and Amon were all very appealing to him, and the chance to become like anyone of them were all dreadfully tantalizing… Stuart though… What of him? What he do when Murdoc's time was up? What would he do without Stu? He frowned slightly, not enough for the demon to notice however.

"Yes, pretty much. Well, I'll give you some time to think about choices. You still have about three months left. Long time ya know? Anyway, talk to you next update." With that, the mirror blurred, leaving Murdoc standing dreadfully alone in the bathrooms of Kong. Wot am I goin' ta do?