Yellow Skittle Sociopaths | Book 1

1: Anthoni Louis

"This is about the skittles incident isn't it?" I leaned on the grayish black table that sat dead center of the small room as a brunette woman in pale pumps walked in.

"Excuse me, what was that?"

"Those bloody yellow ones get you every time..." I muttered.

The woman shook her head as if trying to sort out her thoughts, then continued, closing the door behind her.

"Andrea Stein," she extended her arm toward me for a handshake, but I didn't move an inch...just looked her up an down like she was crazy. She slowly put her hand down and finished her introductions. "Andrea Stein...Chief of Police?"

"Ah, yes," I began, a sarcastic tone to my voice. "Forgive my rudeness..." She went to speak, but I cut her off, turning my head to face the opposite direction. "Actually, don't...I'll just proceed to get increasingly more rude if you do..."

"Right, um..." She tried for a name.

"Not, telling..." I emphasized the 'T' sound in my 'not', and waited for an explanation as to why I had been sent for.

"That was, amazing what you did back at the crime - " Once again, I cut her off.

"I'm sorry," my voice echoed coldly throughout the interrogation room, my British accent clear as the day light that shown through the only window near the roof of the cube shaped room that was about the same size as a Kleenex box. "Last time I checked, my name wasn't Sherlock; I do not solve crimes, chief..." The Chief of police, Andrea Stein cocked an eyebrow and gave me a slightly questioning smirk.

Before responding, she chuckled. "Well, I don't know what you call it back in the U. K., but here, I call that 'finding-a-killer-in-under-five-minutes'. Oh, but, gosh...I don't know...your thoughts?"

"Shut up," I muttered pushing myself off of the object I had been supporting myself on. My foot kicked forward and I turned to face the door, clicking the heels of my boots together. I didn't even need to make eye contact with Chief Stein to know that I was indeed scaring her out of her wits. I proceeded to face her after a moment of silence, pursing my lips. "It does help when the criminal responsible for the many, many, many dead bodies is in the room with you, doesn't it?" I took one intimidating step forward, and patted Andrea Stein's head in a belittling fashion. "I'll let that sink in..." I then turned on my heel, leaving the woman speechless. "Cheerio, Chief..."
***
I returned to my flat - oh, yes, sorry, 'apartment', as it is called in America - throwing my jacket carelessly to the floor and slamming the door behind me.

"Bloody idiots..." I grumbled under my breath. "Me solving puzzles like a seven year old child...?" I scoffed at the thought then spun 90 degrees, pursing my lips and smirking halfheartedly through them. "The nerve of some people..." I continued to rant to myself as I kicked off my boots and walked around on the off-white carpet. "Sherlock Holmes solves crimes. John Watson helps him. I do not solve crimes..." I paused, staring at everything in the room as fast as my brain could take it in. I then lifted my glasses onto my head and rubbed the bridge of my nose and forehead as if I was missing something to make things complete, but, as I stated before: I hate solving puzzles.

I slipped my plastic rimmed glasses back onto my face, and realized at that moment just how reliant I was on those things, and how bloody blind I was without them. It was insane how blind a pair of people were able to hereditary force upon one human being.

I fell back onto my couch and decided,'to hell with my ritual random thoughts of how crap my genetics are; time for some tele.'

I sat in a lazy, slumped position, mindlessly flipping through television channels. My fist was balled up as I rested my face against it for support, and my legs were suspended on the futon I had decided to lug over before I turned the tele on.

Now, that was at least an hour ago.

Now I was bored.

Searching for television was boring. And that's when I realized: my life is a big dull blur that is basically the definition of BORING. My gauche and anti-social behaviour made it nearly impossible for me to, what normal human beings call "make friends", but frankly, I had no need of such a constant presence in my daily life. I am quite fine...just fine...

"FINE!" I sat up, shouting at the top of my lungs as I threw the remote directly through the dry-wall of my apartment.

"Great shot, Louis..." I mused at the thought of my remote now, semi-permanently embedded in my flat - forgive me, apartment - walls, only because I was much too lazy to get up and fetch the bloody thing (there's nothing good on anyway).

I pulled my legs off the futon, and crossed them in front of me as I combed through my short, but strangely thick, red hair. Well, it's not really red, it's dyed, but that's not important, I would imagine...

My bangs fell forward into my face and I blew them out with a frustrated huff. Sighing, I made the quick conclusion that, for the night, I was just going to have to stay bored, and do nothing but eat all night. I nodded my head, and stood absently, making my way to the small kitchen just down the hall and to the left.

"How painfully dull..." I practically cringed as I entered my white and beige kitchen, stopping in the middle of the room. I looked around, wracking my brain for all of the food that I could possibly be keeping in this size of a kitchen. Slowly, as I kept thinking, the room started to spin. It spun, and spun until I collapsed on the hardwood floor, unconscious.

My name is Anthoni Louis, and my life is about to get a little less boring.
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Hey guys! Thanks for coming! This is the very first installment of Yellow Skittle Sociopaths, NOW GO CHECK OUT HalfABrandybuck 's page for the next chapter in her character's point of view! Then come back and I'll have the next chapter for Ya! Thanks again!