Dan & Phil: Not of This Earth

12 | Ye Olde Days

Word Count: 2525

     "Dan!" Phil called out, walking down the thin hallway of their apartment. He opened the drawers of the small table that sat against the wall. They were both empty aside from a few loose earrings and a knob broken off of something somewhere. "Dan, have you see my literary papers?"

     "Which ones?" Dan responded from the den, his voice tired from a recent nap.

     Phil closed the drawers, accidentally slamming them shut, and rubbed his face in thought. What he was actually looking for escaped his mind. "The...the ones Mr. Shakespeare gave me to review."

     Dan coughed before answering his friend: "Phil, why the fuck did Shakespeare entrust you with his work?"

     "He wanted me to review them and I did! I can't find them anywhere! I checked the cupboard, my chamber, the dining room – they're not anywhere!"

     Dan slowly walked into the hall with a thick packet in hand. "This rubbish?"

     "Oh! Yes!" Phil took them from Dan without hesitation and headed for the door. "Wait just a minute! This isn't rubbish! This is beauty and art!"

     "Pft, rubbish," Dan mumbled.

     "The queen likes it, for your information."

     "Just because she likes it doesn't mean I have to." He crossed his arms. "I fell asleep reading the damn thing, after all."

     Phil laughed and shook his head. "That explains your lack of enthusiasm! You always fall asleep on that couch!" He pointed at Dan with a cheeky smirk. "You were probably laying in that awful position again, too! That's not good for your spine, you know."

     Dan threw an uncaring hand motion. "As if that matters to us."

     His companion shrugged and peered at the grandfather clock at the end of the hall. He squinted but he couldn't quite read it. Dan watched him take a couple of steps forward, still scrunching his face to see the clock face. "You need glasses."

     "No, the numbers are just too small," Phil said, walking up to the clock until he was ten centimeters away.

     "Phil, I can see it from here. You're blind as hell," Dan echoed flatly before chuckling to himself. "How did you even read that kook's rubbish if you're that blind?"

     The taller Gem ignored him entirely on the notion of his vision and skipped to what was more important to him. "How about you come with me today?" He approached Dan again, pulling a piece of twine from his coat pocket. Phil made a sloppy attempt to tie the papers together. "Maybe if you actually see one of the rehearsals, you'll change your mind about Mr. Shakespeare's work."

     Dan began to protest, claiming to have something important to do, but Phil knew better. "Like what, Dan? You don't have a job."

     "What on Earth makes you think I don't have a job?" the shorter gem snapped, his voice cracking halfway through pronouncing "don't have." At this point, he had perched both of his hands on his hips and he was standing at an angle.

     "You were a stable boy at Chester Clark's ranch."

     "Yeah?"

     "We're both terrified of horses."

     "Good point, let's go."

     A few hours later, Dan and Phil were seated at a restaurant, awaiting their meals to arrive. Many seats were filled with humans that gossiped tentatively and puffed at cigars over their dinners. Must hung in the air, which was made worse by the heat, and mixed with the fumes of smoke and the food that was being cooked in the kitchen. It was almost sickening to even whiff, but with the promise of food and its ever lingering scent sneaking by patrons' noses, it was bearable.