2010-08-01: Not Dead Yet

Starring:

Blossom_V5icon.png

Guest Starring:

Moon_V5icon.png

Courtney and R.F. Blum

Date: August 1, 2010

Summary:

The only things that are unavoidable are: death, taxes, and a special visit on your birthday.


"Not Dead Yet"

Radio's Penthouse Apartment

The first of August always brings one sister to see her brother well and the sister's best friend. Moon Unit stands outside the apartment as she eyes Blossom. "Do you think he'll like it this year?" She clutches a chocolate cake that the pair made earlier that day. An awesome chocolate cake. A special chocolate cake. With special ingredients. "Hey! I read your like conspiracy stuff and I think you're right, Tipper Crane is rather creepy! I saw her like lick her finger and get some schmutz off Denny's cheek the other day— it was weird. Seriously."

Wrinkling her nose she nudges her friend to wrap on the Penthouse apartment's door. "Your brother. His door." There's a pause before her tone changes, "Is Courtney gonna be there?! Because.. while your bro can put a crowd to sleep at least he's yummy to look at…"

"I know, right? I seriously think the Republicans are putting Dennis Crane on the ballot because they want to homogenize the common people." Blossom's chirping voice rings through the hall, likely alerting everyone that the pair have arrived. Blossom used her 'emergency key' the one that she was given for 'emergencies only'. To Blossom, delivering such a special cake is considered such an emergency. "Watch, he'll get elected and we'll all be programmed to be exactly like his wife."

The redhead shudders violently and then looks over at Moon Unit before rapping her knuckles hard against the door. "…Or Courtney." A fate worse than death for the two of them. "We can't let it happen Moo, we have to back the independent. I know him, he was in one of my sociology classes, you know that one that I failed?" It could be any number of them… she's failed a lot of classes.

At the knock the door is opened within instants like R.F. had been standing at it, like he's expecting them. "Mildred," he greets before his eyes pass over to her friend. "Uh. M.U." Yup, he doesn't want to call her by the name she'd chosen herself. His cheeks flush ever so slightly as he opens the door a crack to let the ladies inside.

The apartment itself is very spacious and well furnished thanks to years of collection. The couches are leather, uniform, and highly uncomfortable— three of them exist in his spacious living room. Wall to wall oak hardwood floors reflect the light, and a wall of windows that lead to the terrace allows much sunlight to enter. Fortunately the blinds are remote-controlled and block out all light when necessary.

The kitchen and living room flow into each other with the kitchen containing granite counter tops, exceedingly CLEAN granite counter tops and a granite breakfast bar completely with three leather bar stools.

"Come in," he states before backing up further and taking care to close the door behind them. "This visit was hardly necessary." The cake is eyed somewhat cautiously as he quips, "A thirty-fourth birthday is hardly cause for celebration." He glances further into the large penthouse to catch Courtney's gaze and approval before motioning towards the breakfast bar, encouraging the girls to place the cake there.

Courtney is dressed for a casual dinner, or as casual as she could dress on any given day. Looking like a plumper version of a White House employee in a black knee high skirt, the slit in the back is cut only two inches. All perfectly respectable. Her angora cardigan is layered over a cream camisole and at her throat is a very thin gold chain with a cross dangling from it.

"Mildred," she echoes R.F. in calling Blossom not by the name she's given herself, but by the one her boyfriend uses. "Moon Unit," she greets with a liberal roll of her eyes. She's unabashedly insincere when it comes to welcoming the two girls into R.F.'s home, a home that she can't even leave a toothbrush at. "You brought… what is that?" The sneer on her face as she eyes the goopy chocolate icing tells of the disgust she feels at the very thought of sweets. She's on another diet, she's always on a diet.

"Is this the independent trying to make it so we can all smoke up? Because anyone that thinks that should be legal belongs in offi— " annnd the door opens " —Hi Radio!" Moon glances at her friend as she steps inside and unloads the cake onto the counter rather than the breakfast bar. "Call me Moon, Radio! We're all friends here, no initials needed!" Beeeeam.

At Courtney's words, her smile turns downright wicked. A finger is streaked across some goopy frosting on the side of the plate and then slowly, rather unabashedly, placed in her mouth and sucked off. "Mmmmm. It… tastes… sooooo good," her eyebrows lift at Courtney rather suggestively, not that she's hitting on the other girl; she's just trying to annoy her. A lot. "It's a birthday! Some people like cake! And fun. And anything that makes them feel good— birthdays and cake have all of these effects laaaady~"

Blossom grimaces at the name and volleys back with a elongated "Raaaaaaadio," and from her back pocket, she produces a small gift wrapped package. "I hope you like it~" she sing songs in a rather wicked little tone of voice, it's a gag gift, it has to be. "I spent weeks hunting through every pawn shop in New York City to find it."

Her attention is turned to the conservatively dressed woman stalking toward them from the living room. "Courtney, always a— " pause " —to see you, how are you doing?" She leans over and mutters to the blonde next to her, "Mom and dad would be sooooo messed if they ever met her, I don't think he likes her enough to introduce her to the rest of the family though." Then she straightens up again and gives the woman her brightest smile.

R.F.'s eyes roll at the elongated name and the placement of the cake, he's thoroughly unimpressed with both. "A gift, and the visit were altogether unncessary. I have aged another year. The only thing to celebrate is the fact I am not yet dead." He sucks in a slow, cautious breath at the parcel presented to him. Unlike a lot of other present-openers, R.F. just tugs at the tape seals carefully so as not to rip the paper.

A final pull of the paper and the man examines the gift. It's a tape of the Buggles containing the song Video Kill the Radio Star. Unimpressed he raises a single eyebrow at his younger sister and shakes his head slightly.

The paper is folded and put aside for later use. Yup, R.F. is one of them.

"Do you even have a tape player, Honey?" Courtney doesn't call the man by his initials or by his given name. It's been a point of contention between the two of them for years. If the prissy woman had her druthers, he would have changed it years ago. He didn't and she still stuck with him, probably because he's the best she could ever get.

Sliding up beside him, she gives his younger sister a rather contemptuous glare. Interloper, it says, trespasser, it says. Obviously the two younger women aren't appreciated by the older one, older by a decade and she doesn't forget it. "It's very thoughtful of you Mildred, sweetheart," she drips with saccharine that's laced with acid. Not the good kind.

"Blossom is like that, you know? Sooooo thoughtful. And caring! Radio is lucky to have her for a sister. And you're lucky to have her for a sister-in-la— oh, wait! I forgot. You don't live here!" Moon actually grins broadly as she says these words. Her eyes light up almost innocently like she hasn't ever done anything wrong in her entire life. "You two aren't married and are that old fashioned-waiting kind!" She grins even broader before leaning towards Blossom, and muttering, "I don't think that's her original nose. Or her original teetas…"

"I'll cut us some cake!" she knows her way around this apartment and finds a knife as well as four plates. Carefully she cuts several slices from the cake. "And Courtney you must have a slice! Honestly it's the best cake you'll ever have. Ever. In your entire life." Just eat it Courtney! The slices are placed on the plates before she dishes them out.

Mildred, errr.. Blossom, isn't even listening to the banter between Courtney and Moon Unit, but when her best friend leans in to murmur toward her the redhead makes a little face and whispers, "Dude, ever notice how much she looks like my mom? It's like…. Creepy…" It's loud enough for R.F. to hear, not loud enough for Courtney (who might actually take it as a compliment).

But there's cake! Not just any cake, Moon Unit's special recipe Wonderland Chocolate Cake! It won an award last summer at the International Cannabis and Hemp Expo in San Francisco. That was a road trip. Watching the blond offer a huge chunk to her brother's girlfriend puts a glint in Blossom's eye and a big smile on her face. "Yeah! Courtney it's low carb and low calorie, you won't gain a pound. Prrrooooooomise~!"

"Do not call her sweetheart," R.F. chides his girlfriend. "It only gives her more ammunition against you," the tone is flat and distanced as he speaks. "And I have mentioned this before, but I would rather you not call me by that sickly sweet viscous near-solid. The word honey only illicits images of Winnie the Pooh trying desperately to put on an additional ten pounds— like that bear should be any fatter."

The piece of cake is accepted by R.F. although it's without a smile or any sign of merriment. "Yay. Another year I didn't die." His lips quirk upwards ever so slightly almost like a smile, but he probably just has gas. He reaches into one of the drawers and fishes for several forks which he leaves on the counter. Carefully he shovels the chocolate cake into his mouth. "It is… tasty."

"Low carb? Really? Is it a ganache made with Splenda?" Courtney seems quite interested in Blossom's promises of the rich desert being healthy for her hips. Taking the large chunk of cake, she helps herself to a fork and then slips onto one of the stools. With her dainty manners, she cuts away a small bite of the cake and slides it into her mouth.

"Mmmmm, this is heavenly!" She exclaims after drawing the tines out of her mouth, the little reside of chocolate icing left on them is licked off before she digs in for another bite. "You two are so lucky, you don't have a problem with eating things like this. Mark my words, when you reach thirty, everything is going to go to your hips."

"Well maybe if we're lucky we won't reach thirty!!" Moon twirls in a circle with her piece of cake in hand. "Wheeeee~ only the good die young~ Only the good die young~" Yes, she's singing Billy Joel. At least she knows what she likes. "Annnnnd yes. Splenda. Mmm. Chemicals in desert…" she fights hard not to roll her eyes, especially considering how obsessed she is with natural food and… other things that are natural.

"Dude. He has like an Oedipal complex or whatever. We learned about that in my psych class…" Her mouth gapes open at Blossom before quipping, "He secretly wants to sleep with your mom. That is effed up." She shudders before placing her fork in her cake— her bite is far less dainty than Courtney's.

"Dude, no." Blossom answers in regard to the entire Oedipal line of reasoning, though every once in a while she pauses her stare at Courtney to glance over at R.F. and shudder. Shaking her head, she forgoes the fork and picks the goopy piece of cake up in her hand and just takes a giant bite out of it. It gets all over her face, something she knows will just put R.F. over the roof. "Besh cake ever!" she announces with her mouth full. For Courtney's benefit, she gives a huge smile right after swallowing, just to show off all the gooey chocolate still stuck to and between her teeth.

Before R.F. can see, however, the smile is gone and she's focusing on the birthday boy. "So so, Radio~" she sing songs, "Did you have a good birthday? Did you nail someone for tax evasion or did your application to the IRS finally get accepted?" She's guessing on his life goals, IRS seems to be the Shangri La of the tax world to her. They are the MAN.

Blum's eyes narrow at his sister as he finishes his piece of cake (and oddly finds himself cutting another piece, it's strange, really). As he dishes the second piece on his plate his features harden a little, the questions seemingly weighing on him.

"It was…" but the drugs in the cake begin to take their effect. "Well… there was this one fellow… I like to call him Whisper in my own mind because he always Whispers… I caught him violating section three of article twelve in the tax law and there it was glaring at me all of this time. He had declared a hot tub as a medical expense. You would not believe how incredibly stupid that is. So, being the smart attorney I am, I managed to find a loophole with an accountant friend that I know. It is all about interpretation of the law…" His cheeks flush a little at the mention of the IRS, "One day the IRS will hire me. Just wait."

Courtney picks at her cake, still trying to be dainty as R.F. helps himself to another slice, Moon Unit takes big bites from hers, and Blossom eats with her hands. Sometimes, it's difficult to be the good example for the young woman. It is how she sees herself, if she is a proper lady, perhaps Mildred will 'blossom' into something a little more perfect, like R.F.

Giving him a rather fond gaze, she trails her fork through the icing of her cake and brings it to her lips. She gives a fond smile in his direction and then takes another bite, a little bigger this time. "I don't know why you want to be in the IRS," she murmurs a little distractedly as she tries to clean a bit more icing off her plate. "Your job is wonderful, you have a huge salary and you're looking at partner before you're forty. What's not to like?"

Some time passes where the group eat and chat and overall semi-annoy each other. In fact, the more time passes, the goofier the four get. Within some time Moon Unit can feel herself airy and passive, nothing like weed to for good feelings.

"There was this one time at this commune outside of Pokipsy when we like drank and smoked so much that someone was convinced he could fly. I was pretty out of it, totally thought he did. I bet you anything if we lit up a joint out on the terrace no one around here would even know… and the view is pretty good— I bet even Courts would have fun! You know what doesn't sound like a word: Courtney…. it sounds like a bunch of nonsense strung together…"

Blossom is laying on her back on the marble tile, looking up at the ceiling and counting the stipple. "Court-ney," is sounded out as her lips move slowly, grandly enunciating both syllables as though announcing her presence for royalty. "Court-ney," she repeats, this time with a little more thought. "It's like a tennis injury, you know? Like tennis elbow but for your legs."

The perma-student rolls over onto her stomach and looks over at her brother's girlfriend, tossing an upward nod in her direction. "Hey Courtney, if you ever manage to have a kid, you need to name it Tennis Elbow! If you ever end up actually getting past first base with Radio, your kid would fit right in!" A little giggle erupts from her core and ends in a raucous laugh, best name ever.

"I will never go past first base," Radio quips rather honestly as he lounges on the floor eating grapes like some kind of Greek god. "Unless I get married. I doubt that will ever happen." He's chattier than normal thanks to the drugs.

"But I imagine there's tax issues if I get married. That would be a nightmare. A total nightmare. I can only imagine the IRS coming after us with one law or another and I would be stuck that way. There was this one fellow I defended who ended up in trouble because he had failed to declare his marriage. Trouble. With a capital T."

The expression on Courtney's face is completely downcast at R.F.'s declaration of commitment to his bachelor ways. Like the brave little soldier she is, she pasts a false smile on her face, sweeping the negative emotions under the rug like the good girlfriend she is. "We don't know that, honey. Someday we might be ready to settle down together and have kids. They're a tax break, you know." The way to his heart has always been talking about the value of things through taxes.

Turning toward Blossom, her grin expands and she shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly. "Who knows, maybe you'll even get to be a bridesmaid. I have these lovely gowns picked out for when I get married. I already bought my dress, you know. It's beautiful. Of course your brother hasn't seen it yet, that would be bad luck, and I'm so glad that this cake is low carb, I need to lose five more pounds to fit into it properly."

Moon actually pities Courtney in this moment, even if her name is ridiculous., but instead she focuses on some more important details. "You don't have to get married to have a good time guys. You can knock boots without rings— I do it and I'm the better for it, I am!" She nods firmly at this.

"And you shouldn't have your wedding planned out or dresses picked. If I get married, I'm going to do it nude. In my birthday suit. I can't imagine anything more lovely than my body as the way it was designed. Au natural with every detail existing for the world to see. And then the future fella can rest assured he's getting one hot mama."

"Oh god no.." Blossom mutters as the wedding talk begins, she picks up her voice, however, and continues on. Like her brother, no feelings are spared. "Courtney, face it, not not getting married to Radio… Like ever, there's huge reasons for this. First one being, it's been ten years and I highly doubt he's given you more than a peck on the cheek." Thank you Wonderland Chocolate Cake for liberating all of them from the shackles of verbal censorship.

With this new found freedom and her brother's own lambasting of the institution, Blossom feels quite liberated in telling it like it is. Even the dirty laundry gets aired. "I remember this one time, Radio was in high school and I was waiting for him to come home from a date. I wasn't supposed to be up but he didn't say goodnight to me, and he always used to say goodnight to me. Before he turned into The Man." A glare is shot toward the blond god on the floor. "He came home from the date an hour late and there was a hickey on his neck. He said that Mary Louise Jensen from the farm down the road gave it to him, but I know it was Tiffany Parker because Blue was totally all over him for it."

"She gave me more than a single hickey," Radio admits with an upward turn of his lips. "I made her blush all over. Blue was so jealous. But then he never worked hard at his physique. Kind of a scrawn-boy all around." His eyes clamp shut as he appreciates the memory in its fullness before bringing his arms behind his head to use as a kind of pillow. But he does pick up on the idea of tax law, "Children could be useful tax-wise, but I could always adopt or become a foster parent."

"I would make an ideal parent. I would teach a child all of the important things in life to know," his eyes remain closed as he muses to himself. "Like mathematics. And accounting. And avoiding unwashed hippies." Pause. "No offense."

Courtney eyes the man on the floor and the mixture of lust and anger in her eyes seems to throw a beacon over her. Slowly, she slides from the chair and crawls down to the floor next to him. "We should get married, honey, we should go to Vegas right now and get married. Your sister can even come with us, maybe even her little friend. I could give you more than hickeys too, you know." Her voice still holds that saccharine quality that always makes Blossom sick to her stomach.

"We could get married, I don't even need to wear the dress, you know. Plus if you're married filing jointly, you save more in taxes than if you're filing single…" Her voice drifts off as she finally lays down next to him on the floor and reaches for his hand.

"If you get married, do it nude. It's the only way to go. Just think of what the aliens will think when they see it; I bet they'd find it more beautiful because you're not trying to hide anything from your partner," Moon hugs her arms around herself. "Besides that Tipper Crane would want a dress and there's something so… awesome about having no barriers from the world."

"Hey… Blossom…? When we start our commune can it be a nude colony? We can sit around and talk about how moist" one of Moon's favourite words "our bodies are. Mmmm."

Blossom isn't exactly listening to anything anyone else is saying, actually. The fact that Moo wants to talk about her moist body? Right over her head. What is going through her head is … … …

Her eyes are glazed and she's staring at Radio. He's using that voice again, the one where he gets involved with taxes and just like Moo with her natural glory. Children are a tax break, marriage is a tax break, … … …

Fighting, Blossom is fighting and with a jerk of her head she turns to look at Moon Unit and nods. "Uhhh… I guess? I mean, what?"

"Maybe we could stretch the bounds of article three, paragraph ten of the tax law. It could be an alluring thing. Think of the possibilities. We could write off an entire house if we stretched it far enough, although that might end with all of us in prison," the hand holding isn't accepted as Radio's eyes are still clamped shut, not that he's on his way to dreamland. Instead he's completely sucked into this idea.

"Further, we could write off a car. One child times several thousand a year… but the cost of raising a child alone is far beyond… perhaps if we declared health care expenses? Perhaps we add transportation to the declaration— " Yeah, the wedding is outright ignored in lieu of tax law. Lucky Courtney.

Lucky Courtney indeed. As R.F. begins his ramble into different tax breaks, the visions running through her head are all of the pretty little things she could buy with the money they saved. It looks like she's one step closer tonight and as her eyes drift closed, she has little dreams of Christmas with all of their 2.5 children gathered around the tree and opening gifts. R.F. would make a wonderful Santa Clause, sliding down the chimney with a bag full of toys… and a beautiful pearl necklace for her.

There's a long sigh as the plump woman cuddles close to her chosen man and reaches one arm around him. She's lost to her fantasy world of a perfect family and how her influence would finally change R.F.'s parents and siblings and she alone would be his perfect lady.

Ugh. Tax law. Yaaaaaawn. Moon Unit shifts on the sofa as she leans back, her eyes getting heavier and heavier and heavier. She could get mad, but instead, she just gets… bored. So bored. Within moments her eyes are closed and she's drifting into some dream about nude weddings.

Moist… The cake was moist… the cake was moooiiiisssZzzzzzzzzzz. Blossom's head lolls to the side and just a second later, a trail of drool drips in a line from the corner of her mouth to form a little puddle on the counter. Pity the fool that has to clean that up, because it's not going to be Blossom.

Behind her eyelids a completely different scene is playing, much different than the one in Courtney's biggest fantasy. Little dancing marijuana plants are lined up at the IRS to pay their dues…

The voice droned on even as everyone's eyes drifted closed. "… and that's how they determine the difference between common-law and room— " Radio's eyes open "…mate status…" He sits up and glances from one sleeping woman to the next, his eyebrows furrowing with an odd kind of concern. Carefully he peels himself off the floor away from Courtney.

He stands, hovering over the three sleeping women before shaking his head and muttering, "Why does this keep happening to me? Everyone keeps falling asleep…" Still murmuring rather quietly to himself, he pads to the kitchen, slides the cake into his hands and disappears down the hall. To his room. Where he will enjoy the rest of this cake alone.

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