Pink Floyd's Dusty Flat

Green is the Colour...of David's Missing Shirt

A/N: This is the beginning of a new arc...enjoy?

"Sup, bitches?" Syd asked as he strolled into the living room. He noticed something peculiar, though.

"David, where the fuck is your shirt?"

"Uhm...I don't know...my last one got ripped up when I was with Ri..." David trailed off as he realized what he was about to say.

"Wait--what the f--never mind. So, you don't have a shirt?" Syd asked.

"Erm...no, I don't." David responded. Syd nodded slightly and then walked over to Roger's room. The door to the room was black--the only black door in the whole house. Typical of Roger. Syd turned the handle, and the room was revealed. The bed had black pillow cases and a black comforter. The sunlight streaming in through the window was veiled by thin black curtains that draped gallantly from metal rods on the top of The Wall. Speaking of walls, The Walls in Roger's room were the only ones in the house to be composed entirely of white bricks. There was also edgy writing scribbled in a corner near the bed. Syd rolled his eyes as he walked over to the closet. He swung the doors open, and what he found was not shocking, due to the decor of the rest of the room. The closet was only filled with black t-shirts and black jeans...literally nothing else. Nothing at all. Syd left the room, not bothering to close the closet doors. He made a mental note to himself that Roger needed new clothes too.

"Rick, d'you need new clothes?" Syd questioned.

"Yes, I do believe so. Why?" Rick said.

"I'm going to try to convince the others to go...shopping." Syd returned. Rick gasped. He hadn't even remembered the last time they all went shopping. Well, other than Syd. He got new clothes as soon as even the slightest bit of money made its way to him. He then went to Nick's room to find him drumming there--without a drum set, that is. He was drumming with two chopsticks and his pillow. He looked a bit...how shall I write this politely? You know what? Fuck it. Nick looked higher than David Bowie's platform shoes. Higher than the altitude of Syd's freshly permed hair. Hell, he looked higher than Syd on a bad day. Syd simply turned and exited the room. He didn't want to know.

He then entered the living room and sighed in exasperation.

"Why am I always the one instigating things around here? You all--"

"Yeah, why are you always the one instigating things?" Roger sarcastically replied whilst rolling his eyes.

"Fuck off, Rog. Anyways, you all need to go shopping! Roger only has black clothing, David doesn't--" Syd tried to finish the sentence in between laughs, "David's shirt has been ripped apart, and I am conveniently missing half the clothing in my closet."

Come to think of it, how did that happen? Never the matter, he looked around at the bewildered faces staring up at him. Roger had been laying on the couch, one of his long legs elegantly crossed over the other. He was now sitting up straight, eyes wide and jaw dropped. David and Rick had been sitting on the floor for some ungodly reason, even though there were two chairs right by the couch. David shifted towards Roger.

"Wait, can't you just do that space-time continuum thing and pull some clothes out for us?" David asked hopefully. Roger shook his head.

"I can only take out things that already exist. In order for me to pull some clothes out for you guys, I'd have to go to a store, buy some, throw them into a portal somewhere, and then take them out here." Roger explained. Then, the true terror sank in. The boys each passed each other a frightened glance. Syd eyed them all closely. Then, they collectively looked up at Syd, defeated and saddened. He grabbed the keys to the car, and they all headed outside. The day was awfully cloudy, and the only one remotely excited about this activity was Syd.

A/N: Wow, this chapter was kind of sad...but don't worry, many eventful things will occur in the next one--and you may just find out what happened to David's shirt.