Well there's nothing that bums me out more than reading a really good fic only to find out that there's no second chapter. I don't want to bum anybody out. Ladies and gentlemen, chapter 2 of The Jean Descole.
There was one problem with the time machine. Instead of reappearing in the same spot Descole had boarded the machine in that wretched nursery thirty years ago, the machine reappeared in a very, very bad place.
"Ha ha! My parents are gonna be SO mad!" Descole snickered as he stepped out of the time machine – and into thin air. The time machine had reappeared at the very edge of a cliff, a 5,000 foot fall.
As Descole plummeted to his death, he swore he saw his entire life flash through his eyes, though it wasn't much since he was just a baby after all. He remembered his first words ("Fuckin' FINALLY!") that he said the moment he was born into this world. He remembered his teddy bear, Monsieur Huggles, that he got for his first birthday. That year Descole has asked his parents for a Fisher-Price Mommy's Little Scientist play set. Upon unwrapping his present and realizing that his parents had disobeyed his wish, Descole threw a hissy fit and bit off Mr. Huggles' arm, then retreated to his room and locked the door. When his parents had left to buy their distraught son some ice cream, Descole ran out of his room and carefully picked up Mr. Huggles and his amputated arm. He began sowing him back together with a needle and string he found in his mother's drawers…He then remembered some of the other things he found in his mother's drawers. That memory didn't seem so, ahem, touching anymore.
(He was still falling.)
Lastly, he remembered the boy whom he stole the Thomas the tank engine toy from. At the time he didn't realize it, but the boy had the sexiest eyes he had ever seen. They were unusually small and beady, like chocolate chips on a big, beautiful vanilla cookie face. He wanted a bite of that cookie.
It is a shame, Descole thought as he was just seconds away from his death. I never got to tell him that I-
Descole felt somebody's arms cradling his fragile stick body. He looked up to see the face of a really old guy with greenish gray hair. He smelled like unscented soap made from goat's milk. Kind of gross, but it was a comforting scent.
The old man nodded and smiled. (Where the fuck are his eyes?, Descole thought.) The old man began to speak, which sort of freaked Descole out because he couldn't see the man's mouth through his thick, green beard. Descole screamed a little.
"I was on my way to the store to buy more soap but I must have taken a wrong turn which brought me to this huge, dry canyon that you see around you now."
Descole looked around. "What the fuck?"
"I had just stepped out of my carriage to take in the scenery when I heard something shouting "DA DAAAAAA" in the sky. I looked up at what I first thought was a bundle of sticks falling from the sky, and then I saw those sticks begin to take the form of something almost human!"
"What are you talking about?" Descole was confused. "I'm only three years old – a baby! I'm not even a complete human yet!"
The old guy chuckled, or maybe he just swallowed some of his beard.
"What's so fucking funny?" Descole was getting kind of pissed off.
"Young sir, take a good look at yourself! That is not the body of a three year old!
"What are you, some kind of dried up fruit? And I'm not going to fall for something so stupi-WHOA!" Descole finally took notice of his new grown body. Somehow he had aged while he was in the time machine! His clothing, however, did not.
"Whoa! My dong is huge!"
In fact, the second Descole had stepped out of the time machine, all of his baby-sized clothes had torn off. All but his baby-sized purple cape, which was still wrapped (very tightly) around his neck, kind of like a half-assed scarf. Descole loved that baby-sized cape. Kind of like how a child treasures their "blankey", except this blankey was more of a fashion statement.
The old man could see that Descole was finally alert to both himself and his surroundings, and gently placed the almost completely nude French guy on his feet.
"Looks like we're gonna have to find you some new clothes! I have some spares in the back of my carriage. I've got plenty of them! Sometimes, uh, the carriage rides are a little long."
"You saved my life." Descole interrupted him. The old man began scratching the back of his head. (I wonder how much lice can fit in that beard, thought Descole.)
"Well, uh…Yes. Yes! I did!"
These were two words Descole had never said to anybody ever before, only to himself. What was this feeling? Why did he think this old dude was so cool? Probably because he had a bitchin' beard, one that completely hid his face. A master of disguise. Descole liked that. In an unusual act of generosity, Descole asked the old man, "What can I do to thank you?"
"Well," the old man thought out loud, "I AM pretty lonely. My family has all but passed and nobody wants to be my friend."
Descole felt sad for the old man, another new feeling. This guy is so fucking cool! Why wouldn't anybody want to be his friend?
"Yes," the old man continued. "Some company WOULD be nice."
A-ha! Descole came up with a plan.
"As my way of saying thanks, I will hire you as my personal butler. Butler, what is your name?"
"R-Raymond," answered the old man.
"Ahh, Raymond. A fine name." Descole paused. "But I like Jonathan better. From now on you are Jonathan the butler."
"Anything you say, sir…"
Descole realized he had not introduced himself yet.
"I am Jean Descole, but you shall address me as 'Master.'"
"Cool!" Descole smiled. "Now let's ditch this dry bitch. Take me to your – I'm sorry – my home."
"Aye Master, but may I suggest we find you some clothes first?"
A laugh track plays.
"That wasn't fucking funny," says Descole.