The Murder House

Four - When I Speak It, It Was true

"Festie!" A shrill voice screamed.

Dylan grabbed the back of Fester's garden chair just as a blur of neon colours and pale skin ran past them and jumped onto Fester's lap causing the chair to groan under the added weight. Ellis had so kindly brought out all the garden chairs in his shed for them and made tea and coffee for everyone, now he was sat barefoot munching loudly on dry crackers like a horse. Matthias Lloyd connected himself with Fester like a sloth hanging off a tree, he was five foot four and a fifth metal. His face reflected his disability though you could never tell he was Down unless you looked at him properly, he had a round face with a shaved down buzz cut that he's sported since he was a kid. As he grew older he wore more children's clothes, today he was wearing a neon orange hoodie with a pumpkin on the front, and black cargo shorts that slid down his waist. He nestled his little pug nose into Fester further his words muffled by emotion and the need to inhale Fester. Ellis looked to River to see if this was normal, she was smiling watching them so he continued to shovel crackers into his mouth.

"Can you be any louder?" Dylan broke the peace.

"Here gis some," Diesel said dislodging from Fester. Ellis held out the package as Diesel turned, you'd think Ellis offered him a murdered puppy the way he gasped dramatically a hand flying to his chest. "It's a burnt Bernard!" He gasped his fake teeth falling out of his mouth as he scrambled to grab them.

"That's racist," Elton said from his perch.

"But he is!" Diesel whined. "He's Bernard Wilkinson but burnt, like burnt toast, how's that racist?" Diesel's accent was much thicker than River's, even though he'd been living in London for the majority of his adult life. "Right which one are you? CD or DJ?" He asked pulling out his phone to reveal Franco.

"Alright Franco?" Dylan called.

'Been better Red, what's that a heard about a burnt Bernard?'

"Bernard's youngest is here," Dylan took the phone.

"Aye, so are you CD or DJ?" Diesel pestered Ellis. When he got no response he put his hands on the arms of Ellis's chair and pinned him back, Diesel had no boundaries when it come to personal space. You had to be clear on your boundaries with very specific rules otherwise he didn't realise what he was doing was wrong. It was like sex and other inappropriate things, he never understood why it was so wrong and would ask people about it or speak of it loudly in public with no shame. It doesn't compute in his mind that sometimes certain things aren't okay unless it's physically told in no uncertain terms. Though that's not to say he's stupid, he isn't book smart but he's incredibly good at people skills.

'He's DVD man,' Franco spoke up making Elton snort.

"Here man!" Diesel whined. "Packet in am asking him! So which are you, CD, or DJ?"

"He's VHS," Fester couldn't help himself. Within a second Diesel had his fake leg off and he was about ready to throw it until he saw the murderous blunt in Dylan's eyes. He lived with them in a van for the good portion of eight years and he learned to understand their scowls or glares early on. They were a teenage girl living with four men in their twenties, he needed to understand them even if it killed him.

"Packet in before a brain ye all!"

"I'm DJ," Ellis said hoping he chose the right one. "The youngest, Raoul Dante Ellis Wilkinson, please call me Ellis,"
"Oh a love a laddie with manners," Diesel flicked his shoulder. "Aye Matthias Lloyd though a gan by Diesel or Uncle Petrol, a live down that way," he motioned to London.

"Ye diven't even kna your address," Gorgeous said making him stick his tongue out at her while he decided to attack River next. Ellis could hear her bones tensing as he attacked in a hug, out of the corner of his eye he saw her strange, mechanical movements.