Survival Of The Fittest

Silver Springs.

One of these homes was the Bissette residence, owned by the hard working Jean and Marguerite Bissette. Most people who could catch them know them as lovely people.

Their son, Chester. Not so much.

Inside the house was a complete mess. Shattered dishes on the floor, the kitchen countertop and shards in the sink. Chairs flipped on their back as the kitchen table covering is bunched up on the ground. There was a small crack on the wall next to a door, the size of a doorknob.

And inside of Chester Bissette’s room wasn’t much better.

His computer was faced down on the floor, surrounded by the various dirty clothes, empty bottles, cans and food wrappers that were littered around the room. And laying on the large and worn out bed was Chester Bissette himself. He laid sprawled out, the blanket barely covering his body as he stared up at the ceiling, his mouth slightly open with large bags under his eyes.

Finally.

The fireworks stopped.

He can get some sleep.

Knock knock knock!

"Hey Chester, it's Claude, open up!" A familiar sounding deep voice called out from right outside the Bisette residence. The cold weather had the young Claude don an appropriate ensemble, consisting of a leather jacket worn over a blue hoodie with cargo pants and Adidas sneakers, as well as a pair of old leather gloves to ensure his hands were all nice and toasty.

Normally, since his friends parents weren't home often, Claude would usually try to get Chester to open the door for him... but the chances of that happening are very slim.

This just wouldn't do for the tall baseball player. After a moment debating with himself on what the next course of action should be, Claude simply grabbed ahold of the doorknob and twisted it open, surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, in Chester's case) it was unlocked. The door was slowly pulled open and what Claude saw inside could only really be described as the aftermath of a natural disaster.

As Claude traversed across the mansion in a careful manner so as to not crush or break anything that was on the floor (not like most of which was already broken), he made his way towards the room of the culprit. The door being slightly open with a crack made things easier for Claude as he stepped inside...

...only to almost get knocked out flat by the smell, "Je ne me suis toujours pas habitué à cette odeur horrible, mec!" ("I still haven't gotten used to this horrific stench, dude!") He said to himself before he slowly began to brave the trash jungle that was Chester's room. "Come on, Chester, time to get up and go outside and do something productive." Claude spoke kindly to the mess of a blob that was his friend, Chester.

He waited to hear what Chester had cooked up in response to his demands; if he didn't want to do anything, then it was highly likely that Claude would have to drag him out of the house or even carry him.

Claude”s voice made Chester’s head screech like a record player, and he blinked.

The cuban missile crisis was a 13 day long confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union taking place in October 1962. The United States sent nuclear missiles to Italy and Turkey, while The Soviet Union sent their mussels to Cuba. Historians consider the Cuban Missile Crises the closest call of a nuclear war…

….And unfortunately for Bissette, that didn’t happen. And now Claude gets to see him in his state. Thanks a lot JFK.

Bissette’s head rolls to the side, staring at his friend with an annoyed expression “You know, why don’t you just move in here if you wanna just walk into the house?” He says with a sarcastic tone as he grabbed his head, feeling a headache coming on.

That wasn't the right answer for Claude. Not one bit. "I didn't want to have to do this you, Chester, but you leave me no choice." Calmly, he approached the bed his friend was sprawled on and suddenly latched his hands on his ankles. Without some reasonable effort, the brawny young man dragged his cumbersome friend out of bed.

"First things first, we're going to clean up the house and make it look presentable!" If anything was to be done, it was a well needed clean up of this whole place. Ignoring the protests from Chester, Claude made sure to stop and let go of his friends ankles to have them fall on the cold floor.

A nice, quick jolt from the cold would surely make him wake up... Claude counted on it. While he waited for Chester to get up–with a more than likely groan–the tall high schooler quickly began to pick up all the trash that was scattered on the floor; from the wrappers to the cans, nothing was left on the floor.

Now, why was Claude even doing this? To be honest, he was a nice dude, simple as.

Also because he didn't want Chester to continue living like this, so if this is what it took to change, so be it.

Bissette’s attempts to hold on were futile as Claude pulled him off, taking the blanket with him “Ugh, nooo.”

Chester sighed as he watched Claude begin cleaning up his room, making him grumble. Great, his guardian angel came to do charity work. That’s cool.

“Whatever. It’s just gonna get messy anyway. Lemme just wash my face.” Bissette released a loud groan as he got up from his bed, tossing the blanket away as he stepped over and opened the door to his adjacent, personal bathroom.

The Bissette’s ensured their own personal bathroom for each bedroom: a nice, marble-floored luxurious washroom with a marble countertop, glass mirror, and glass shower doors to an overhead shower.

Currently, Chester’s bathroom was less than desirable. Perhaps because of the broken glass and various towels strewn across the floor; maybe because of the faint purple-reddish stain on a wall, and maybe because of what was once the entire mirror being covered by a large blanket, and the remaining shards are across the marble countertop.

Bissette ignored all of this as he opened the faucet and splashed his face.

"Yeah, okay." Claude said with an eye roll as he picked up a good portion of the trash scattered across the floor. "Now that you mention your bathroom, let's see the damage..." He knew Chester well, that's why he dreaded having to check out the condition of his friends personal bathroom. But, if it meant helping him clean himself up, so be it.

Unfortunately, Claude, if he weren't as nice of a guy he was, would've briefly regretted having chosen to gone out of his way to visit Chester on the first of January–but this wasn't the alternate universe where he was Evil Claude, this was the universe where he was normal Claude. So, when he entered the bathroom while Chester was washing his face, he gagged violently at the horrid and seemingly unholy stench that assaulted his nose.

"Merde!" ("Shit!") The gentle giant cursed as he pinched his nose to try and prevent any more damage from being done to his nose, "You're cleaning your bathroom and the living room, I'll be cleaning the kitchen and your room." This wasn't a request from Claude, it was an order to Chester.

Bissette grumbled a little, scoffing at the order Claude gave him.

“What? You’re gonna order me around now like I’m a maid? This ain’t even your house, why’re y-” He stops himself, waving his arm “Agh, whatever, fine, fine? I’ll clean up. Can you at least grab my stash? Bottom drawer. I can’t clean shit while sober, I might as well be high. And don’t argue with me, you know it won’t go well.”

Another empty soda can. Another empty food container. Another crumpled piece of paper. By the time Claude had picked up most of the trash that littered the floor of the room, he was hit with a problem that might slow down the cleaning process: The trash bin was tiny as hell.

"Well, Chester, I'm here because I care. For all my friends. Everyone deserves to start the new year clean, and if I have to spend my time ensuring that's the case for everyone, so be it." It was a gentle and caring statement for Chester that showed just how much the gentle giant cared for his friend. "Where do you keep your trash bags, Chester?" He asked him as he threw a few pieces of trash into the small bin until it was full.

Chester turned away, his back towards Claude as he waves a bit “Down stairs under the sink.” He mutters under his breath as he began sliding shards of glass inside his small bathroom trashcan.

Claude always had to embarrass him with the “I care” bullshit. Why does Bissette let him baby him like this, as if he was some sort of broken, messed up person who needs to be helped every day? Why can’t Claude just let him crawl into his hole and die in peace. Saves himself the trouble of being around Bissette.

Not as if he would tell Claude any of that…it would upset him.

Claude gave Chester a thumbs up before he quickly walked out of the room and towards where the bags were said to have been. Because of the fact his hands were full with the trash from his friends room, caution was taken into extreme consideration as he took careful and calculated steps down the stairs.

Now, he wasn’t perfect when it came to this, so it was a given that a few pieces of trash would tumble out and off the trash pile he carried as he walked down the stairs. By the time Claude had reached the first floor, only a few pieces of garbage were strewn across the stair steps. This was good, he could get back to those in a moment. Right now, however, he had to dump all this into a bag.

"...under the sink." The last bit of the sentence repeated in Claude's head as made his way to the sink, which was in the kitchen. Without hesitation, he dropped everything he held on the floor and crouched down, opening the cabinet door and ripping a trash bag off the roll, shaking it around so it could open up wide. Once that was through, Claude quickly gathered up the garbage he dropped and chucked it all into the bag. By the end of this, the black trash bag was a quarter of the way filled–now for the trash that was dropped on the stairs!

He picked himself back up, garbage bag in hand, and walked back towards the stairs, where he would pick up the rest of the pieces of trash which didn't really fill up the garbage bag all that well...

No matter.

That just meant Claude could get ahead with cleaning up the kitchen, "Hey Chester, I'm going to start some cleaning on the kitchen while I'm here alright!" He hollered out at his friend who was probably still in the bathroom before he began to look around to examine the damage, "This'll be done in no time." Claude told himself confidently before he got to work.

Bissette grunted loudly in acknowledgment as he ties up the bag with all the shards. He sighs deeply, glancing around the now glass free, though wasn’t what one would call “clean.”

Bissette sniffled as he walked out into the room again, going through the bottom drawer and pulling out a rolled up joint. He opened the window, taking out his lighter as he plopped his joint in his mouth, lighting up. He took one deep breath, letting the smoke in his lungs before puffing it out the window into the air.

He coughs a little bit, giving a groan while he pulls his hair back with his hand and shuts the drawer, placing his joint back in his mouth as he walked out of the room and goes down the stairs, walking to the living room.

“Hand me a garbage bag.” He mutters, holding his arm out.

Hearing Chester stomping down the stairs, Claude took a brief moment to go back to the where the garbage bags were. A quick tear and flick away and a garbage bag was tossed over to his blunt smoking friend after he asked for a garbage bag, "Way ahead of you!"

Two steps ahead.

Claude was always—(not really)—two steps ahead, kind of like that dude on YouTube who posted that video with that as the title...

...That really surprised Claude the first time he saw it.

Enough of that!

Right now, the tall frenchman was finishing up with picking up and chucking trash into the garbage bag he took. Although normally he wasn't one to really care about whether or not his friends took drugs, this time felt different to Claude–after all, this might've been the first blunt that Chester has hit on the start of the new year, or it might not.

Who knows...

But anyway, curiosity got the best of Claude and he decided to ask Chester, "That your first blunt of the year, man?" As he picked up the last pieces of trash off the floor before dumping them into the now full garbage bag as he waited for his friends response.

"What are you, DEA? It helps the buzzing." Bissette grumbles as he stuffs trash from the living room floor, carrying the industrial sized garbage bag over his shoulder.

"There. Finished everything." He utters as the bathroom garbage bag rested at hiss feet. He looked down and saw a cracked photograph of Bisette as a baby.

He scoffs as he picks it up, half-hazardly tossing it on the marble counter on the hallway before turning back to Claude "We done now?"

"Right." A simple and basic response that had a sort of unmotivated tone to it when Claude spoke, which was uncharacteristic amd could've been easily noticed by Chester if he paid attention. Taking a look around the mansion, it already looked better than when he first arrived. Fantastic. His hands were placed on his hips as he took a deep breath in.... and out, "Unless you're comfortable with having an open hole in your wall then sure, you could say we're done!"

Claude lied!

He took a step towards Chester, which was more of a lengthy stride due to his size but same difference. A perfect position to be in as his friend was within arms reach of him, Claude readied himself to drop a metaphorical bomb on his downtrodden friend, "However, you and I are going to go out for a walk around the neighborhood—just one lap around—so you can get some fresh air..." This next part was where his preparation would come in handy if things took a certain turn, "Either you put on some clothes and hang out with me on this walk willingly with your dignity intact or I carry you out without it, what's it gonna be?" Should things end up going down the latter route, then Claude would straight up do it so Chester would start the new year spending the day outside for a few minutes, at least.

It would be in Chester's best interests to just willingly go along and take a walk with Claude, and Claude himself knew this when he accidentally quoted a line from No Country for Old Men, "You should admit your situation. There would be more dignity in it."

Bissette’s face scrunched into a tired, annoyed glare as he walked past Claude back up to his room. After a few minuets, he comes back, dressed in jeans and wearing a long Metallica hoodie as he glared at Claude “You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that O’Neil?” He mutters as he walked over to the door.

Bissette opened the door, seeing the outside area to his view. He grimaced slightly.

Thanks…so much JFK.