The Name Irks Me! (Camden+Friday)

Camden dropped down on the ground as he found a particularly horrible patch of weeds. He pulled and he huffed and he pulled and strained but he was sure as all Hell that those plants weren't going to come out anytime soon. Standing back up on his feet lazily he turned to walk away, but not before he gave a swift kick to the earth. Probably wasn't all that effective but it sure made him feel better. He hated weeding, it reminded him of gardening which he thought was the most feminine yard job that you could ever do. Shoving his hands into his pockets he walked back towards the far end of the cemetery to the old wooden shack. It was a scary looking thing, seemed like it was about to fall apart at the seams.

He cracked open the door before he inched inside and picked up the shovel that he had leaning against the inner wall. That weed you see was going down. With much more vulgar he marched back over the spot with the weeds those stupid God forsaken plants of destruction were about to meet their doom. He put the tip of the shovel next to the offenders and pressed down into the ground… sort of. Another surge of frustration, the ground was hard as a rock. Balancing himself Camden stood on the shovel head, and it didn’t go in the dirt more than half an inch. He looked around the cemetery; it was empty, as usual. There wasn’t much business in a cemetery when everyone in town was already dead he swore that people only came to visit to criticize his good work.

Leaning the shovel against a nearby grave marker he eyes up the patch again, there had to be something that he could do to get rid of it right? As his idea came to mind a small, devious, smile crossed his face as everything fell perfectly in place. Theoretically of course. His train of thought was disrupted when the sun kindly decided to remind him that it was there by subtly blinding him. It reminded him that he was wearing black, a most flattering colour on him by the way but what was he saying, he flattered everything he wore. None the less it was hot out. Squinting through his eyelids in order to see five feet ahead of him he decided to turn his back away from the sun to go back to the creepy shack of mysterious items.

This time when he emerged from the building he had a container of gasoline in one hand and a small package of matches that was being tucked into his pocket by the other. He wasn’t going to be made a fool of by something that was so easily flammable, understand? Twisting open the container he poured enough gas to completely soak the patch, then he put the container down and resealed it. He pulled out a match from the package and just lit it when he saw a pretty blonde girl walking into the cemetery. In an attempt to hide his attempt at arson he just hid the match behind his back, and then he realized that she was just standing there, with her eyes closed. ’What a freak’.

Camden’s mind barely paused before he decided to open his mouth, ”Hey lady new in town?” She had to be new, he never forgot a face and if he seen her walking down the street than he would be real sure not to forget that face. Somewhere between inner ranting and checking out the latest merchandise he did forget something, and he remembered it real quick when it burned his fingers. Reactively he dropped it on the ground, on top of the patch of weeds; his next reaction was something along the lines of jumping back beside the blonde girl away from the sudden onslaught of flames.

Taking his shocked expression off the burning grasses he side-glanced over at the girl as he wrapped his hand around her waist. ”You kind of look like one of those walks on the beach and campfire kinds of girls.” He said with a smirk on his face, half because he was a cocky bastard in a black trench coat in the middle of Texas. The other half was because he was rather proud of himself, it was a pretty decent recovery if you asked him, and if you weren’t asking him you should have been. He is the master of these kinds of things. He was so confident that it only took him three whole seconds before he went over to step on the damn fire to put it out. Smothering always kills things he figured.

The fact that he played along with these things just made him grin even wider, if that was even possible, if he kept smiling like this his face would rip in two. That would be misfortunate, very upsetting a calamity even. There was actually no situation that he could think of that could possibly be worse, and he was very good at thinking very improbable things. It was a talent, one of his many actually. Camden had many unmatchable talents if he thought so himself. The whole last two minutes of thought hurt his head and the only thing that he agreed with was this was in fact hellish weather.

He doubted that she could ever appreciate the dramatic effect that he put into this look, despite that it wasn’t really his style. She asked him something and then started to play with her elastic, from what he has gathered from over the years is that when a girl plays with her hair that is a good thing. Why, he didn’t know, only that it was good. “Yeah actually, I spend a bit of time here.” A bit was what someone would call and understatement, he spent the majority of his time here, or back in town doing something else. The beauty of his job though was that people were still around to admire his work, not like they did admire his work but they were still around to do so if they pleased.

There was only a two second pause before he started up again, “You could probably say that I own the place.” That was because he did, he even changed the cemetery name so it did a much better job at land marking his awesomeness. Before it was something like the Mary Immaculate Cemetery, but he kind of figured that he was better than Jesus’ “virgin” mother. Or Jesus himself actually, sure he didn’t “sacrifice himself for mankind” but you know, he could do something cool too. For example, he can turn water into fruit punch if he bought one of those little sugar crystal packet things. That was close to the water into wine trick, just get a sugar packet.

Camden was momentarily distracted by the blonde girl when she was still playing with her hair, the movement was rather memorizing actually. The fact that she didn’t stop was actually starting to annoy him the slightest bit, he didn’t even know why be he found it a bit hard to talk. This was surprising when it was Camden because he never found it difficult to talk, actually he usually found hard to stop talking. It scared him and it made him sad, being scared mad him sad.

Finally she stopped, and for some reason it made him feel better. Touching her hair was actually moving him away from what he was going to say. He was even having problems trying to remember what he was about to sa- oh yeah! “Camden, the name’s Camden Twain.” He looked around the cemetery as he put his hands in his pockets as if he was expecting someone to be around. There weren’t many visitors around here so he didn’t know why he had that kind of feeling; he just… had that kind of feeling. Happened a lot at graveyards he figured, that’s why the old man went nuts, too many dead people all the time. He supposed that would mess with the mind of a regular person.

Then a thought crossed his mind, you were supposed to ask about the other person weren't you? Girls always seemed to like being asked about, but that was probably because they just liked to talk, which wasn't a problem with him, he liked to talk all the time too. Talking was fun, it was healthy, it should be a competitive sport. "So what's up with you, who are you where are you from?" He bent over and picked up a wrapper that was on the ground and stashed it away into his pocket. Litter was a pet peeve. Glancing over at her he smiled again, "Favourite colour, sport, book... Greek myth?" Some people were into the Greeks, what could he say?

There were never enough tourists in Belmill, they usually made things much more interesting. Not like chilling out with the walking dead was mundane; while the matter was that when something like that does become mundane the town’s main problem isn't tourism. Out of town girls however were awesome, they came and left so quickly there wasn't much of an issue with "scenes" being caused. Long distance never worked well with him, though Camden figured that the whole 'Tuck Everlasting' effect probably did bring a lot of ladies to their knees, it just wasn't his tune to sing. She did manage to spit out his answers in order, surprisingly enough, he didn't intend on all of them to be responded to. To be honest he couldn't even remember half the questions that he asked, and that was only a few seconds ago. He reached out and shook her hand as she offered it.

Friday. It was such an odd name, somewhere between Thursday and Saturday. Actually it reminded him of Wednesday; from that television show that came out a few years ago, the creepy girl that nobody likes. She was blonde though, and didn't strike him as creepy. However, there were very few girls that Camden thought were creepy enough to make him go 'ew you're creepy'. Yet he really didn't know if he was a fan of the name, definitely not something he'd name someone. "Friday..." He said as if he was playing around with the name, just testing it over the tongue. "Hm, you don't look like a Friday," To him, she looked more like an Ann or a Hannah, something like that. Camden already had the image of a Friday in his head and it wasn't a cute blonde girl that probably wore braces for five years, something more of a tall dark brooding lady with a hairy mole.

A fleeting thought passed him by that small fleeting part that was the voice of reason. The whisper of reason. Actually that was a little too much credit, probably more like the scared whimper of reason that knows his older brother is going to beat him shitless when he comes back home and finds out what he has done. The 'Should I try this again?', the rational fleeting thought of a brother knew the whole song and dance that Camden did to himself all the time. However, the big douche-bag brother part of him just brushed it off, 'Just a tourist girl, no one will be the wiser'. Weighing his options didn't take long, it wasn't like he was an entirely moral character.

Camden brushed his hair back out of his face before he did a sweeping bow. Glancing up at the only other blonde in the cemetery with a most cocky grin on his face. "Well Miss. Friday, I do believe that working with dead people day and night is a little dull." He just stood right back up to his full height, which he personally thought was rather short for a male, embarrassing really. Almost heart wrenchingly so on his humble opinion. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder he leaned forward and spoke as if he was telling her some sort of inside joke. "So I graciously volunteer to show you around the big ol' town of Belmill, and spend some much needed time with the living" It was really, a little play on words, mostly because he knew full well that she wasn't ever going to get it.

Unless something unfortunate happened, and that would be real unfortunate. There's no bigger cock block than being the person that guillotine’s a chick, it happened once. It made him sad because that lady was a total babe, a babe with a temper that always took things personally too. Dangerous mix.