This is a bonus that I published between chapters 'Now they are in Japan' and 'Not a very good chapter'.

Now it is at the end because it was breaking up the flow and people stopped reading.

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I know that I just updated yesterday but I made this sad little excuse for an interlude to show my commitment to being dumb.

Wanna see what Matt is dreaming? NO? Read on anyway. Or don't. You don't have to read this because it doesn't matter to the plot.

This is a sad interlude. Do not laugh at their pain, ok? And don't miss the last chapter.


EMO Interlude


His eyes were bleary. It didn't matter, he knew his work by muscle memory. A skill honed by mashing buttons, acquired for amusement, now a cold comfort to a bitter existence.

He was cold, but somehow sweating. Lifting his Bakers Boy cap to wipe away the sweat, Matt paused in his task to regard his cold, numb fingers, if only to see that they were still there.

"Oh God, how bony they've become," he mused.

"'Eh! Slackoff! Get back ter work, ye filthy urchin!" The foreman barked, cracking his child-whipper above Matt's head, "Or 'ere'll be no gruel for ye supper t'night."

"Oh God," Matt mused again, still not knowing if he was back in time, or what the fuck, "Why does he talk like a pirate?"


This was a different room than the one his social worker had seen, but he was told he'd be beaten if he recounted that fact.

The water stain on the ceiling above his bed indicated 2.4 years of leakage. He would have to watch out when it rained. The white paint was stained amber near the top, signs of heavy smoking by his reprobate roommates. Four beds in a small room. This was defiantly against court regulations.

These were clues in a very boring mystery. "How much does this place suck?"

He calculated 94%.

"Look at that shrimpy new kid," one of the delinquents said to another as he picked Near up by the collar.
"Shit. Is that a book he's got?" the larger scoffed. Both were at least as large as two Mellos strapped together, twice as mean, and less than half as smart.
"Christ, fagot, quit tryin' to better yourself!" The one holding him said, punching him in the stomach, "That's gay."
"Reading? Why is reading homosexual?" He cried, trying to kick at his aggressors or escape.

The thick-skulled thugs appeared to think for a moment. It appeared that their tiny brains might smoke and catch fire, but then the less moronic one answered, "Because it's gay."
"That's a tautology," said the mouth that was promptly punched shut.

As they were beating him despair washed emo-ishly over his existence.

It was a tautology. They didn't even care.


"Why are you dressed like a Soviet-themed male stripper?" Said a different kid in Russia. This is a different scene.
"Because I dress like the male stripper version of whatever I am trying to be," answered the blonde with menace, defeat, and ennui.
"The soviet era ended about 20 years ago."
"Yeah, I know." He rolled his eyes, "I'm a genius."
"Aren't you cold?"

He was actually pretty cold.

"Well, we have uniforms anyway."
"Sucky," Mello sulked, kicking some snow that his boot had tracked in. "So do you want to be my enemy?" he asked hopefully, with a cautious mix of emotions.

"Well, our life here pretty much sucks, and we're in a pretty remote area. So we all try to get along."
"Do you get chocolate here?"
"Uh, like maybe at Christmas."

************************* One ten minute long scream later **************************

"So, what do you do for fun?"
"Be orphans. Live in crushing poverty. You can read a bit, but the books are pretty outdated, and you'll have to wait. There's a TV they let us watch on Wednesdays."
"Do you have vodka?"
"Like, barely any."
"Do you want to make out?"
"I already said no."
"Oh, I meant to ask that after we had some vodka. God, this is the suckiest orphanage in Siberia, isn't it?"
"Well, it's in the top two, but hey, at least we aren't in the even worse orphanage a few kilometers away! They don't even have blankets there."
"Wait. You mean that this is the second worst orphanage in Siberia?"
"Well, Siberia is kind of an ill-defined region, but –"

After another ten minutes of screaming the kids all tried not to talk to Mello anymore.

He was totes bored forever, and didn't have any chocolate.


That just didn't fit in anywhere, so it's a 'bonus'.

I don't know who's dreams all of these are, but let's just say that they are Matt's.