" ... Slllliiide to the right!
Slllliide to the left!
Take it back now y'all!
Cha, cha now y'all…"
That ear-piercing song blared through the speakers of the party deck, never seeming to dwindle away for the next tune. Chell, who sat in solitude by the tables, groaned loudly and rubbed her eyes in great irritancy. She didn't really have a liking for… this kind of music–in fact, she had a hatred parties, which began exactly an hour ago, as shown on her wristwatch.
Her friend was the one who thought of attending to this party, shooting down her own idea of just resting in the cabins until morning. "Oh, come on, it'll be a whale of a time!" said her friend. "Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud, Chelly," said her friend.
"No, it's okay. I don't really want to pressure you or anything… Just thought it'd be fun, you know? It's vacation–vacations are supposed to be fun, right? But… you don't really have to go… if you don't to…
"I can just go by myself, if you really don't want to leave..."
Who knows what would've happened if he didn't go without Chell's supervision?
Apparently this, as he was nowhere in sight, after he specifically promised to meet her fifteen minutes ago.
Couldn't trust that moron for anything, it seemed.
"Oh, it's you."
She pivoted her head towards the source of the deep, unfriendly welcome. It was GLaDOS, her co-worker, the last person you'd see on a cruise ship designed for "fun". Chell was instantly suspicious, as everyone knew that 'GLaDOS' and 'fun' couldn't mix without drastic complications. She forced herself to look her co-worker in the eyes, saying coldly:
"I thought you didn't like obnoxious parties."
"Well, I have to deal with you on a regular basis, so I guess I can adapt." GLaDOS hissed back, drumming her glossy, manicured fingernails on the navy table cloth. Heat began to surface on Chell's cheeks at the offhand comeback, although she heard quite a lot of her taunts before at the workplace. GLaDOS would always peer over her cubicle wall with a killing smirk and remark about the woman's weight, age, hair, outfit, anything that could be used as a psychological weapon of harassment. Chell would only give her the silent treatment.
"Why are you here?" asked Chell, her eyes full of annoyance, and the eyebrows that hooded those eyes narrowed in aversion.
"They said I 'work too hard', and forced me to take my leave. You didn't think I'd aboard this… waste of my time for my own enjoyment, did you? Now, why are you here?"
This question struck Chell more than it should have. In her head, she recoiled from what she initially thought was a delayed attack on her self-esteem. She broke her eye-contact with her co-worker and said rather quietly and hurriedly:
"It was free."
A soft, yet ominous chuckle arose from GLaDOS' throat.
"So… the lunatic's unsociable and she's stingy."
Chell made the attempt to shrug it off by reaching for the decorative purple cupcake on the paper platter and taking a bite.
"Aren't you on a diet?"
"Don't you have someone else to criticize?"
"I don't see a more deserving individual other than you."
Chell had enough. Smoothing out her cerulean evening dress, and wiping the purple frosting from the corners of her mouth, she clutched her handbag to prepare for a trip back to her cabin.
"Where's the imbecile?"
She collapsed into her seat, banging her head dramatically on the table.
That cheeky little bastard was going to be the end of her, this she swore.
"ALLLLRRRIGHT, Y'ALL! WHO'S READY TO MAKE SOME SCIENCE?" The deejay hollered to his already overhyped audience, receiving a deafening, unharmonious cheer.
As if instantaneously, the deep techno pounding of a bass blasted through the chaotic air, following shrill voices squealing out the ridiculous lyrics of the song.
"Making science! Making science!"
"Please make it stop…" Chell buried her head in her hands. Maniacal laughter accompanied the jarring tune, presumably from GLaDOS, the person who wouldn't miss any moment of witnessing Chell in intense discomfort.
"It's time for testing!
" Making science! Making Science!
"Cubes and lasers placed in chambers,
"Ready for subjects to solve the tests,
"She's awake agaaaaaaiin!
"Sleep mode OFF!
"Now here we go!
"With all my tests we're–
"MAKING SCIENCE NOW!"
"THAT'S IT. WHERE IS HE?" Chell slammed a fist onto the table, sending the cupcake flying. She scoped for the moron from her seat, enraged as ever.
"Aw, are you running late for your doctor's appointment about your–"
"SHUT IT, GLADOS."
"WHAD'YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? GET YOUR HANDS OFF MEEEEE!"
The girly shrieking of a Brit sent Chell into panic, making her whip her head towards the circular stage in the center of the deck.
There he is.
The lanky-legged man tried his very best to keep his shorter companion from dragging him onstage any further, resulting in black shoe-streaks across the hardwood. His cussing slurred inarticulately into one, massive run-on sentence as he flailed the empty bottle of…
Who gave Wheatley alcohol?
"Ahhh, c'mon, Wheat Thins. This is your part of the sooooong!" his shorter companion whined behind him as he pushed his buddy to the edge.
"You don' know me, flip–hic–flipping looney gi–hic!" The next half of his absent-minded tirade could only have been interpreted as: "I'm the United-bloody-Kingdom and I could hold my locker [sic] better than you any day!"
Rick only snorted loudly at the drunken Wheatley, who fumbled laughably with the empty bottle in his hands.
"What in the hell did he get himself into?" snapped Chell, before darting out of her seat. But before she could come to the rescue for her idiot-friend, a skinny hand as pale as paper snatched her wrist and tightened.
"Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud, Chelly," GLaDOS said smoothly, mimicking that little teaser Wheatley continuously used when the opportunity of fun was shot down. "Besides, I want to see where this is going. Don't you?"
Chell sat back down slowly and stoically like a robot, silent. Of course, the nagging itch to intervene didn't leave, but it was choked down; she too had a strange curiosity of what was about to occur.
"RICK, YOU–hic–YOU B–BLOODY, BLOODY LITTL–hic! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AH–hic, hic!"
She swore she could've heard someone's sanity snap in two when Wheatley's somewhat sober-ish expression twisted into a madman's toothy grin. A grin that only could've fitted… "an elongated Cheshire cat".
To add more nuttiness to this Dr. Jekyll–Mr. Hyde moment, the same man who threatened to toss Rick off the boat if he forced him to engage in an unforeseen game of karaoke… began to sing along.
"I caaan't belieeeve what's happeni–hic–ng to me…
"I'm innn control… of the faciiil–hic–ity…" His own childish giggling interrupted him. He sighed, clutching his side in exaggeration.
"… Oh, that's–that's tiring… hic!"
The rosy tint in Chell's cheeks drained away, leaving a sickly washed-out pigment. She didn't want to admit what was happening before her, it was just too much for logical comprehension.
"Won't they beee impressed I'm not a m-moron?
"Seeee how I change this peaceful test into something that'll kill this pest–hic, hic!
"Well, compliments from me to you,
"Heh, I can't believe you actually made it through!
"Now would you just–hic–stay there please?
"I'd like to introduce you to…"
At the sight of the drunkard stumbling on his feet, Chell ripped her arm out of GLaDOS' grip and made a dash towards the stage.
"Nonononono! Do come back!
"F–Fine–Nope! Don't meet him the–hic–n,
"It's 'Mister Mashy' the spike-plate
"He'd like to…"
"'Reduce your weight'!
"Heheh, little joke–hic–there…
"… Hey, I don' f–f–feel–feel so…"
Wheatley then collapsed onto the wooden flooring, dead-as-a-doornail–Heh, no–out-cold. Chell hurried up the steps, looking over her comatose comrade in dissatisfaction, before grabbing him by the ankles and dragging him off the platform.
GLaDOS soon joined her, followed by Rick. Chell glared daggers at poor, ol' Rick as she towed Wheatley across the deck to a predetermined location. Gently as she could, she set him down to rest for a bit.
"Did you give him the alcohol?" she demanded, her words sharp and toxic to hear.
"Well, I bet him a few that he could stay the whole night without passing out. I guess I wooon!" Rick praised himself, just before Chell raised her hand and slapped him square in the face. Shielding his raw cheek, Rick continued to cackle wildly over his triumph.
"I should've known it was you! You could've killed him!You made him like–like this!" Chell berated him, furiously gesturing to Wheatley to emphasize his condition.
"Hey, lighten up, angel-face. The worst that's gonna' happen is Sunday Morning. Don't be such a stick-in-the–"
"You either help, or you leave."
"Alrighty then… J-Just wait a sec!" Rick dug into Wheatley's front pocket, pulling out a leather, black-and-white wallet adorned with the Union Jack. After drawing fifty bills from it, he threw the wallet carelessly onto Wheatley's face, and tucked the money into his shirt pocket.
"A deal's a deal."
"As you wish, pretty-lady," he teasingly bid his adieu, sauntering back to the party.
With the help of GLaDOS grabbing a hold of his wrists, they managed to drag Wheatley another couple meters, stopping when they overheard a familiar, mindless giggle.
"He–eheeeey! Lo–hic–Look who j–j–joined the party…"
GLaDOS stared down at him, completely mute, visibly fuming with unnecessary anger.
"Ch–Chelly, meet–hic–Chelly… Glad–ddy, meet…"
Wheatley's eyes widened. The expression on his face contradicted the laughter and unintelligible joking words he uttered so loosely.
"Glaaaadeeeee…" He waved his hands lazily, as if to reach out to GLaDOS'. "How're you… here…? I thought Chell–Chelly s–s–aid you–hic, hic–were the biiiigest biiiiittttttttaaaaaaAAAAAAAOOOWOWOWOWOW! IT HURTS!"
Wheatley cried in pain as GLaDOS tightened her fists, crushing his wrists with excruciating power. She laughed callously at this, before releasing her hold, allowing Wheatley's head to bash against the floor with a dull THUNK!.
"Over here," GLaDOS instructed, gravitating to the side of the deck until they faced the metal, restraining bars.
"This isn't where the cabins are."
"I know. Now shut up, and help me throw him over the railing," GLaDOS replied nonchalantly, hoisting Wheatley up to the bars.
"YOU'RE NOT GOING TO KILL HIM." Chell grabbed Wheatley's sleeve protectively, pulling him back away from her co-worker.
"What? He can swim."
"NO." Tossing him on her shoulder, Chell trudged to the cabin rooms, hoping to finally call it an end to this horrible, degrading, somewhat hilarious night on the party deck.