Gaston | ON HOLD

FIVE

No one's slick as Gaston, no one's quick as Gaston. No one's neck's as incredibly thick as Gaston's...
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Beep, beep, beep-

"Bloody hell!" Gaston roared as the incessant, high-pitched noise started up again.

Since Morgan had left earlier that afternoon, the hunter had been having a pretty rough go of things on his own. He rushed over to the window, but he wasn't fast enough as the neighbor in the apartment directly above began stomping the floor again.

"What the hell are you doing down there!" The tenant yelled. "It smells like you're making Meth in the bath tub!"

Gaston had no idea what Meth was, but so help him, if they didn't stop pounding, he was going to show them just what he could do with a bathtub. Death by drowning was certainly the first thing that came to mind.

Angrily, Gaston shoved open the glass window, quickly allowing for fresh air to circulate about the tiny apartment. He knew the Enchantress had sent him here as punishment, but at the very least, he felt she could have offered him something to help acclimate him to this life.

Flopping down on the couch, Gaston's stomach growled for the millionth time since Morgan had left for work. The first time the piercing screech had sounded, Gaston had been trying to fry up a few pieces of the salted pork strips Morgan had cooked for him earlier. The blackened meat had produced a much darker, thicker smoke than the burnt toast he had just made.

Unfortunately, he had already ate most of the contents out of the red box with the leprechaun on it. The soft and sweet, colorful bits had been good, but the other pieces reminded him of chewing on horse feed.

Before finding that in the cupboards, he had tried the large rectangular box with cold air blowing inside of it. He had been appalled with the packaging that read dog, and the glass jar labeled tabasco had nearly brought him to his knees. Thankfully, a few glugs out of the milk jug had seemed to help, but he was much too afraid to try anything else inside.

He guessed he would just have to starve until Morgan came back. And when she did, maybe he could convince her to make him more than just two measly eggs.

As he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, the black screen hanging on the wall in front of him suddenly sparked to life. He would have been a bit more terrified of the tiny, flat people stuck inside, if he hadn't already seen Morgan turn on the television earlier.

Shoving his hand along side the seam next to him, Gaston fished around for the small black remote he had watched Morgan use. He remembered she had pressed the large button on the right hand side as she had searched for what she referred to as 'the weather channel'.

He must have pressed the same button a hundred times before stopping on a man and woman who were running from an overgrown primate. With a yawn, Gaston quickly lost interest in the show. Even in this strange world, he highly doubted that a monkey could grow so large. And if it did, he promised to be the first one to mount such a prize on his wall.

His eyes grew heavy as he laid back, fully ready to settle in for a deep sleep while he waited for Morgan to return. But something hard underneath him kept the cushion uncomfortably uneven. Finally, Gaston lifted the padded seat, and quickly plucked out the object that seemed to be the source of his discomfort. As he sat back down, Gaston turned the book over in his hands.