Forgotten Things Wash Up Here (Gorillaz Plastic Beach) Chapter 3: 2-D

Once the ropes are cut free, I stand and stretch out my cramping muscles. I am aching with fatigue and stress. Murdoc looks me over for a second before he grumbles under his breath and bows his head and begins looking for something else. I glance myself over to try to figure what he is grumbling about. I have rope marks around my wrists and ankles.

“Fuckin’... somethin’ er other…” Murdoc grumbles before he plunges headlong into his search for nothing. I step around him and inch toward the door.

“Oh,” I say, remembering, “I’ll need new clothes. Where do you want me to get them from?”

“Er, uh, righ’ that.” Murdoc grunts out, standing upright and adjusting his pants. “Um, if you go into my room, I should ‘ave some of Noodle’s old clothes. If they don’ fit, ask that face-ache of a bloke downstairs.”

“Who?”

“2-D: that miserable excuse for a man! Bloke’s afraid of a goddamn whale for god’s sake!” Murdoc snarled out, running a hand through his messy hair.

I nod my head slowly, muttering out a “thank you” before hurrying off, not wanting to stick around for a temper tantrum. I hurry out of the room and begin through the grubby, dank hall, and up the stairs. The stairs seem endless, but after about ten minutes of climbing, I finally find myself in a dark room. There is a little bit of movement in the dark, then it stops and I shiver. I hurry through the room, to the elevator. Once I enter the elevator, I press the button with the label “2-D’s Room” beside it. The elevator rumbles before it squeaks to a stop at my destination. I exit the elevator.

The hallway is filled with junk and leaky pipes and it is the picture of neglect and mess. I hold my nose to stave off the smell of mold before I enter 2-D’s room.

There, curling up in the corner of his bed and shaking, is a blue haired young man. HIs jaw is covered in stubble and his eyes are wide and white and terrified. His knobby fingers are clinging his knees close to him.

“ ‘Ave- ’ave you come to save me from the- the- the whale?” the blue haired man stutters, trembling and making the bed creak.

“Whale?” I inquire, looking out the porthole window just above his bed. There was nothing to be seen. “There is no whale.”

“I dun care. “E’s out there.” 2-D rattles, gripping his legs close in comfort.

I look closely at the sea beyond his window before I climb onto his bed and shut the curtains over the window.

“Oh!” 2-D cries out, immediately moving from his crouched spot on the bed. “Thank you!” He is smiling brightly, crooked yellow teeth bare and brazen. He presses his hand kindly to my shoulder before he pulled off his socks and throwing them across the room. Luckily, his feet don’t stink. “Ah, I can relax now.”

“Yeah…” I trail off and bow my head slightly. He doesn’t seem to notice that there’s anything strange about me, let alone notice that I’m new.

“Oh! Where did I put my manners?” He questions before he sits up. “I’m 2-D (or not 2-D)!” he adds with a little giggle, “an’ what’s your name?”

“Opal.” I answer, nodding my head to him. The grin that he shows is radiant, yet broken. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, 2-D.”

“So what brings you ‘ere?” 2-D asks, tilting his head slightly, causing all of his floppy blue hair to fall to the side. This question gets me thinking for a moment.

“Murdoc sent me down here to see about rooming with you,” I answer.

“ ‘Ow’d ya get ‘ere? To Plastic Beach?” he asks.

“Oh,” I say, turning my head down slightly. “Honestly, I don’t know. I guess I washed up here, but I don’t remember that happening at all.” I admit, my shoulders slumping and a frown carving into my face.

“So you were washed up like all the other rubbish ‘ere,” he doesn’t seem to notice that this sounds rude. “Forgotten things wash up ‘ere. So do unwanted things.” My mouth falls open in shock and in concern. Am I really something unwanted and forgotten? That couldn’t be! I was popular! I always had a guy or gal on my hip and I always had notes in my lockers and I had friends that hung around me. I was popular. At least, when I was home I was.

“What’s wrong?” 2-D asks, tilting his head and beginning to sit up. A frown finding its way onto his aging features.

“Nothing,” I lie, shaking my head and standing up. “Am I alright to room with you?”

“Yeah… I fhink,” he says before looking about the room. “I’ll sleep on the beanbag chair ‘till we get somefhing squared away,” he slides off of his bed and begins toward the beanbag chair in the corner. He reaches into a grubby ol’ cupboard and pulls down a blanket. He lays that over the bag before sitting in the middle of it. “This’ll give me the chance to work on my Donkatron!” He begins to smile once more, getting to his knees and reaching out for a funky contraption in the middle of the floor. It is covered in horns and buttons and knobs of all different colours and it looks quite fascinating and oddly attractive. There is even a piano keyboard at the base of the contraption.

“Donkatron?” I inquire.

“Yeah! Donkatron,” 2-D confirms. My mouth opens to ask what a Donkatron is, but I quickly shove that thought away and close my mouth. He’s an oddball and half of what he says just goes around in circles.

Turning away from him and heading for the door, I say, “I’m going to find some new clothes.”

“A’right! Seeya!” 2-D calls before I close the door and let out a breath that I wasn’t aware that I was holding.