(18+) Smooth Xscape (Complete)

Ch. 1: Useless

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This story contains swearing, sexual descriptions and triggering content. Please respect the 18+.

AND:

Please read 'My Fucking Smooth Criminal' before you start on this one. Or at least read the resume.

Also: Starting to write this, I have no idea what will happen, so I'm just as curious as you are about which stupid situations Gail and Michael will get themselves into. The only thing I do know, is that it will be something out of the ordinary. So....

Let's start!

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*CRASH*

"Ooouuuch!!!"

"Oh, for Pete's sake! What the hell are you doing?! You just couldn't go one whole day without trying to kill yourself...? You know, there are a lot of other, and more efficient, ways to do it. We've got that gun of yours in your nightstand, remember? And your imaginary drug addiction could always help you on the way. Or you can just run around in the middle of the highway, trying to get run over by a truck. But with your fascinating ability to fail in almost everything you do, you'd probably have to get a job as road surface marking, to pull that off."

"But Missy, I was just trying to..."

"To what? Find out if the stairs were soft?"

"No. But the light bulb..."

"Forget about the fucking light bulb! I'm trying to find a way out of this misery, and I would appreciate some help from you. And I'm not talking about light bulb-changing help, Joe. I'm talking about finding a decent place to live, where we don't have mutant rats as house pets."

"It's not a mutant rat! His name is Ben!" he pouted, slightly offended.

"Yeah, whatever. He's ugly. Period."

I visibly cringed at the thought of Joe's furry friend that used to sneak around in the living room. I never figured out where it got in or out, so I could block the way, but I knew that if there was one, it's family was probably not far away.

"I need someone to... You know, make things happen? Where is Mr. Jackson when I need him?! He would've fixed this misery in no time."

"But I am Mr. Jackson! Even though I prefer that you call me... Well, Joe. I've sort of gotten used to that now."

You need to find a way to trigger Mr. Jackson to the surface, Gail. Seriously. Maybe you can try some more of that torture you did with Don Juan? I mean, it's worth a shot? But then... Look at him, Gail. Joe could never handle any more torture than a ladybug.

"Read my lips, you dipshit of an imbecile! You are not Mr. Jackson! You're nowhere near to be helpful. And if you don't wrap your shit together, then I'm personally gonna make you fall down the stairs again! With passion! And then, maybe, if I let you lay there long enough, you'd probably succeed in bleeding to death. Oh, no! I forgot. You can't succeed! In anything! You're useless! But I probably shouldn't give you advices in ways to commit suicide, because right now I'm having major problems to avoid killing you myself. You know... I can just hit your head a little bit. With the refrigerator! Why on Earth did you think it was clever to use a goddamn ladder on the stairs, Joe? I swear to God, you should have had a fucking warning sign on your forehead, to keep your surroundings safe from you!"