When a sweet anon plants an idea in your head and it just…happens.
Listen to Cell Block Tango from Chicago while reading otherwise this will make 0 sense.
1.4 including lyrics, somehow?
Pop. Six. Squish. Uh uh. Cicero. Lipschitz.
You stood at the kitchen counter, your knee bumping against the cabinet as you dropped your hip in time with the music.
“Pop. Six. Squish. Uh uh. Cicero. Lipschitz.”
You mumbled under your breath as you moved around the kitchen making tea, your voice growing stronger as the beat kicked in.
“He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame.” You set the kettle on the base, a little firmer than necessary.
“If you'da been there-” you flicked the switch.
“If you'da seen it -” you pulled the cupboard doors open.
“ - I betcha you would have done the same!”
Tom’s head whipped around as you slammed two mugs down onto the side.
“What was - oh, I see.” He laughed, watching you bob your head along to the song.
“You know how people have these little habits that get you down? Like Bernie.”
You yanked open the cutlery drawer, knives and forks clattering together.
“Bernie liked to chew gum. No, not chew -” you slammed the drawer closed “- pop.”
Nodding your head gently, you spoke the words along with the song as you put sugar into your mugs.
“So I came home this one day, and I’m really irritated,I’m looking for a little bit o’ sympathy. And there’s Bernie -”
You looked pointedly at Tom, “-lyin’ on the couch -”
He sat up straighter on the sofa.
“- drinkin’ a beer and chewin’.”
Turning back to the tea, you pulled the box of tea bags towards you.
“No, not chewin’ -” you dropped a bag into his mug, “-Poppin’.”
“So, I said to him, I said,” you turned around, looking him in the eye, “ ‘You pop that gum one more time.’ And he did.“
Sighing, you waltzed over to the fridge to take out the milk.
“So I took the shotgun off the wall and I fired two warning shots.” You pulled the bottle from the door. “Into his head.”
You slammed the door shut on the word ‘head’. Strutting back to the kettle, your hips swayed in time with the rhythm.
“He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame.” Unscrewing the lid of the milk, you flicked your wrist as you elongated the ‘a’ in blame.
“If you’da been there - ” You threw the lid down, bouncing off the worktop.
“If you'da heard it -” Milk sloshing onto the side, you slammed the bottle down. “ - I betcha you would have done the same!”
Tom was suddenly very aware of how loud he was breathing, swallowing, just being.
The kettle clicked off just as the rhythm slowed. You poured hot water into each mug, popping your hip to the beat and mouthing the words.
I met Ezekiel Young from Salt Lake city about two years ago, and he told me he was single.
You took the teabags out, squeezing them against the side of the cup.
And we hit it off right away. So, we started living together. He’d go to work, he’d come home -
“I’d fix him a drink,” you looked at Tom over your shoulder again.
You dropped the teabags nonchalantly into the sink.
And then I found out - ‘single’ he told me,
“Single, my ass. Not only was he married, oh, no -” You turned around, shaking your head with his mug in your hand.
“- he had six wives. One of those Mormons, you know. So that night when he came home from work, I fixed him his drink as usual.”
You set his tea down on the coffee table in front of him,looking him in the eye and smiling sweetly.
“You know some guys just can’t hold their arsenic.”
Tom swallowed, trying to decide if he was terrified or massively turned on as he watched you strut back over to get your own drink.
He had it coming, he had it coming, he took a flower in its prime.
“And then he used it -” You set your mug down aggressively.
“- and he abused it,” Tom flinched as you threw a cushion onto the floor.
“It was a murder, but not a crime!” Dropping into an armchair, you picked your phone up from the table.
“Now, I’m standing in the kitchen,” you scrolled through your phone, mumbling the words under your breath. “Carvin’ up a chicken for dinner, minding my own business. In storms my husband Wilbur in a jealous rage.”
You pitched your voice up as you impersonated Wilbur, “ ‘you been screwin’ the milkman,’ he says. He was crazy, and he kept on screamin’, ‘you been screwin’ the milkman!’”
Your head jerked up, voice clear for the next line. “And then he ran into my knife.”
Eyes locking with Tom’s, you kept your voice casual. “He ran into my knife ten times.”
You turned back to your phone, singing along.
“If you'da been there, if you'da seen it, I betcha you would have done the same.”
Tom snorted as you hummed the next section, not knowing the words.
“I don’t speak Hungarian, okay.”
“Yeah, but did you do it?” his voice clashed with Renee Zellweger’s blasting through the speaker.
“Uh uh,” you shook your head dramatically, “not guilty!”
Crossing your legs, you tapped your foot to the slower beat, mumbling lyrics softly.
“My sister, Veronica and I had this double act, and my husband, Charlie, traveled round with us. Now, for the last number in our act, we did these 20 acrobatic tricks in a row. One, two, three, four, five, splits, spread eagles. Back flips, flip flops, one right after the other. So this one night before the show we are down at the Hotel Cicero, the three of us, boozin’, havin’ a few laughs. And we run out of ice, so I go out to get some. I come back, open the door, and there’s Veronica and Charlie, doing Number Seventeen -”
Snapping your legs open, you hitched your knee up over the arm of your chair. “-The Spread Eagle.”
“Well, I was in such a state of shock -” you looked Tom in the eyes again, voice innocent “- I completely blacked out, I can’t remember a thing. It wasn’t until later-” you lowered your leg, “when I was washing the blood off my hands, I even knew they were dead.”
You got up, face contorting as you all but shouted.
“They had it coming, they had it coming, they had it coming all along.”
Striding across the room, you shook your head, brow furrowing, “I didn’t do it, but if I’d done it, how could you tell me that I was wrong?”
You straddled him on the sofa, humming along.
They had it coming (they had it coming)
They had it coming (they had it coming)
They had it coming all along (they took a flower in its prime)
“I didn’t do it, but if I’d done it, how could you tell me that I was wrong?”
You pecked his lips on the word ‘wrong’, leaning back on your heels.
“I loved Al Lipschitz more than I can possibly say. He was a real artistic guy…” You wrapped your arms around his neck, lowering your voice as you leant forward.
Your fingers played with the curls at the back of his neck as you smiled sweetly.
You sat back on your heels again, sighing.
“But he was always trying to find himself. He’d go out every night looking for himself, and on the way, he found Ruth -” you cocked your head from side to side with each name “- Gladys, Rosemary and Irving.”
“I guess you could say we broke up because of artistic differences -” you sat back up on your knees.
“- he saw himself as alive -” you tensed your arms around his neck
“- and I saw him dead.” You gripped his shoulders on the last word, shaking him.
Tom tried to kiss you, but you couldn’t stop yourself.
“- bum, bum, bum, bum, bum.” Your lips bumped against his, noses rubbing together as you bopped along.
You kissed him in between each line, pulling back to mouth every other repetition.
They had it coming “ - they had it coming,”
They had it coming “- they had it coming,”
They had it coming “- all along.”
‘Cause if they used us “- 'cause if they used us,”
And they abused us “ - and they abused us, how could you tell us that we were wrong?”
Tagging mutuals/possibly interested parties, lmk if you want to be removed/added! @starksparker, @bi-writes, @softspideys, @buckyparkerish, @thwippeter, @kathscribbless, @hollisterholland, @loserparker, @madmadmilk, @hollandlovely, @oktomhollandsmut @spiderboytotherescue, @hollandbaby @dtftomholland @tomsfireheart @cabbagebag @iknowisoundcrazy