Bottled Milk

Act III - Twenty And Percent

Scene 1 - Nature's a bitch

Xander walks out of his car with his stuff - mainly his cane and now-empty briefcase since he already payed his dancers their 'tips' - and closes the car door, and turns off the car.

He then puts his stuff on the ground for a little bit, and then gets the car sheath from his trunk and covers the entire car whole.

Then gets his stuff from the floor, enters inside his apartment complex.

Walks a couple flights of stairs, then reaches his room, unlocks his door, gets inside, then locks his door behind him.

Xander: *exhales deeply* Well, that's done.

Then Xander turns on his midnight-only lights - basically 3 artisan lamps that shine brightly - and then gets on his couch along with his stuff in the lounge. It's a nice night so late it's early. The breeze of the cool summer winds flow right by his place and hits his face, coming from his irresponsibly opened-up window - although unless you were a 4th-Grader, you can't fit in through there - and it's just him, his thoughts, and that's it.

He then goes toward his Television's left drawer - which has a secret compartment - and opens it up. He reaches for the compartment, and then grabs a box.

Then he takes the box, opens it up, revealing - yup, of course - some pre-rolled-up marijuana joints and a lighter with Snoop Dogg's autograph. He then takes the lighter and a joint, lights one up and hits it.

Xander: *smokes, then breathes out*

Then he goes back to the couch.

Xander: *smokes, then breathes out* Hey mom, dad.

Xander now looks over in a corner, next to the doorway, 2 vases with the inscriptions 'Mom' and 'Dad' on it, made of a metal with a precious metal outlining for the words.

Xander: *smokes, then breathes out* *chuckles* Ahh, damnit. Can't believe it's been 9 years already, since you were out that one night - maybe one of you wanted the other to drink, then take the wheel - then magically crash into another car, killing everyone. That crash... I remember the headline from the news. I was in my final year of John Hopkins. Me and my sister were so shocked, we were speechless. What could we do? We were literally miles apart from each other.

Hey, but look at us now! Your daughter's an artist, she's married to fashion royalty, your other son is in Siberia researching dog psychology, and I? ... Ahh, shit ...

*sniffs* Both of you were right. My life is crazy and... I'm a loser... Best friends with a coke-addicted insane gang boss; appealing to those migrant maggots... who call themselves 'cultured' even though they're depraved and decadent; ... and I'm still trying to get over you folks' deaths with drinking and smoking.

It's at this point that Xander breaks down, not crying but going emotionally berserk.

Xander: Goddammit. Ohh! Fuck...! *screaming and screaming*

Then curls into a ball and does nothing for 30 seconds, then gets back up.

Xander: But then again...
But then again, I don't blame you, or myself. I blame today's world. Believing and trusting in a God whom we don't have proof of existing, saying that conflicts are better than diplomacy, this world is in a backslide. I don't know where you are, but I'll find you, Mom, Dad. When I die, I'll find you in the darkness so thick not even light can penetrate it. When dear sister and brother joins us, we'll be together forever, not even death can separate us. God... is a lie, built upon a lie, built upon another lie. Satan... is an imaginary children's fairytale. And this world did the rest of agitating, staggering and exaggerating these outlandish concepts of which we have no proof to substantiate. This is today's world, and it's what got you killed. But I can't fix the world. Merely capitalize on it.