Drag (Chapter Three)

The movie was complete and utter shit, in Murdoc's opinion, and it wasn't even ten minutes in. Murdoc turned his head to his blue-haired counterpart, who was completely absorbed in the movie, his black eyes not even looking away at the T.V for a mere second. Murdoc sighed and turned his head back to face the T.V, why was he doing this? Why did he agree to this? Murdoc stood up abruptly, which caused 2-D to break his stare from the T.V, "Where are you goin', Muds? Ya promised an 'our wit' me, it ain't even been twenty minutes!" 2-D began to get up from his bed where he was sitting and stood a mere few feet away from the older man, staring into his miss-matched eyes. "I'll bug ya more! I-I promise!" 2-D somewhat glared at Murdoc, who was fully glaring at him. "Fine, face-ache! You wanna spend so much god-damn time with me? The we're gettin' wasted on cheap booze in the Winnebago." Murdoc roughly grabbed 2-D by the neck-line of his shirt, pulling him by it as Murdoc left 2-D's shit-hole-of-a-room and guided him through the halls of Kong and to the car-park, before letting him go to unlock his old treasured beauty. Murdoc stepped into his Winnebago, and let out a sigh. Satan, did he love this fucking thing. It was his true lover next to booze and cheap birds, but his lover nonetheless. He motioned 2-D as he ventured into the kitchen to search for the fore-mentioned cheap booze. 2-D stepped in with caution, examining the Winnebago before taking a seat in a nearby old chair. The mobile home was no better than 2-D's room, the floor was covered in ashes and burn marks, and not mention ripped fabric and what 2-D can only hope was white shampoo in some places. The chairs were all burned, along with drapes, and holes littered the walls and some parts of the ceiling. The only place that didn't look so destroyed was Murdoc's bed, which was dirty and unmade, but seemed to be spared the burn marks and ashes and hopefully white shampoo stains. 2-D's examination was interrupted by a large crash and Murdoc coming back with a wild smile on his face, holding a few bottles of cheap booze, "Found 'em, mate."
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Despite Murdoc drinking for many, many years, his alcohol resistance never really grew past his 21st birthday. Before long, Murdoc looked wasted, in 2-D's opinion, and the hour they promised together turned  more into a three hour event. 2-D hoped to himself that Murdoc would have no memory of this night, he would probably end up dead for breaking the one hour rule of thumb. 2-D stared down into his bottle of brownish liquid, thinking. He was damn surprised that Murdoc even allowed an hour, let alone three. He was scared more than anything, what if this was trap? A ruse of some sort? 2-D's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a clank on the floor and what seemed like a loud snore. 2-D looked up and smiled slightly. Murdoc passed out. 2-D set the bottle down and quietly walked to the door, but not before rustling the sweaty, slightly matted hair of his fellow band-mate before taking his leave.
By Satan, please make sure Murdoc had no remembrance of tonight.