Pencils, Dust, and Imperfection

I don't even know why I was trying to write a song; it's not like there were any melodies or lyrics in my head. The only things inside of my head were Christian and Gloria, and that wasn't a good thing.

I had taken one dose of the experimental MPD medication, but things were good, so far. I wasn't dealing with Christian and Gloria that often anymore, and my body wasn't ashing that much. I wasn't even experimenting the possible side effects the pill bottle warned of.

Unable to write any form of a song, I sat my acoustic guitar down and walked out of my den and upstairs. I figured it was time for a second does of the meds, so I opened the kitchen cabinet to get them.

But they weren't there.

I looked behind old and empty pill bottles, but I knew they wouldn't be back there. I looked on the kitchen counter and table, but they weren't there either. I looked in the dining and living rooms and didn't find them. I finally went upstairs to check my bedroom, but was still empty-handed.

I started questioning and doubting myself, but I shouldn't have been. I clearly remember putting the pills in the kitchen cabinet, and Adrienne or my kids wouldn't have moved them. Even if they had, I've looked all over this house and haven't found them anywhere. I was racking my brain madly, but a probable conclusion popped into my head quickly.

"What did you guys do with them?" I urgently asked Christian and Gloria aloud.

I received no answer.

"I know you're still in my head," I said, slightly neurotically. "One dose of that stuff couldn't have possibly killed you both off."

Still no reply.

"I know you're in there!" I cried. "I know you did something with the medication, and I know you're pretending to be gone so I'll think I'm better, it's not going to work."

Once again, nobody spoke.

"Fine," I announced, still speaking aloud. "But when I go to the hospital tomorrow, the doctor will know, and we'll get rid of the both of you somehow."

I received no comment from either one of them, so I gave up. They were both stubborn and adamant about destroying me, so neither one of them were going to blow their cover.

I laid down on my bed, planning to just rest for a moment, but I ended up falling asleep rather quickly. I was actually able to sleep soundly too since Christian and Gloria weren't fuzzing up my poor and tired brain with foundationless arguments and melodramatic complaints.

Hey, my complaints are very dramatic!
Gloria's the star of all of them.

I thought we weren't supposed to be talking?

Armstrong's asleep, so it doesn't matter.

I knew you two were still in my head!

I thought he was asleep...isn't he?

Yes, but his mind is still working.
His subconscious is talking to us.

So, he's dreaming?

Sort of.

Ugh...this is so confusing.

As you said before, Christian--let me end the confusion by destroying your mind. To do that, though, you're going to have to let me take the medication.

What are you implying, Armstrong?

That you did something with the pills.

Why would I ever do such a thing?

Because you're a sick bastard.

This is not the time for name-calling, and I don't appreciate being singled-out. Why don't you accuse Gloria? She could have done something.

What could she have done?

Apparently something with your pills.
I don't know--how should I know?

Because you were definitely involved. Your plan was to destroy my medication, by the looks of it.

I'm flattered that you think I'm the mastermind behind this, but I'm not as bad of a seed as you think; Gloria's the one who's still pissed at you.

Gloria and I are OK now, to my knowledge.
You're the one I have to worry about.

Christian flushed your pills down the toilet.

Gloria! Not cool!

Well, it's not like he'll remember this; I just want to know his reaction.

Thanks, Gloria. I'm not very surprised, though. That 'plan' isn't really as diabolical or maniacal as you made it seem, Christian. You're a very simple bastard, I guess.

Simple, but still effective.
I have a question, though--why blame me? I know I'm a twisted maniac, but Gloria could have still been involved and you just gave her a free ride; no berating, lecturing, or even questioning. You don't even seem doubtful. Is my perception of your emotions shot; or what? She was pissed at you just a few weeks ago, and nothing's changed...has it?

No. I guess I still want to believe in Gloria. I know she's just a personality, but...I guess since she's technically me, I take her as a sick and fragile version of me, and I don't want her to break, I don't want to lose my faith in her.

Thanks, Billie!

That was lame, Armstrong.

I woke up in my bed; I must've drifted off for awhile.
I sat up and sighed when I remembered that I still had no idea where my MPD meds went to.