At The Peak of a Great Mountain: The Beginning.

Preface:

    Murdoc's greasy black hair swayed delicately above his mismatched eyes, which scanned the landfill enquiringly. Dirty smoke drifted into the breeze with every exhale from his yellowed, pointed teeth, of which were bent into a twisted smirk upon his greenish skin. His stained red bandana sort of twitched within a larger gust of wind that would sometimes blow by.
   
    “Got a wicked feeling about today,” he casually spoke aloud, taking another drag.
   
    “Wicked feeling 'bout what, Mudsie?” 2-D suddenly walked out to stand aside his friend. The azure-haired boy pulled a cigarette out from behind his ear and lit it, leaning himself against the grimy guardrail and joining in the landfill-gazing.  
   
    “Face-ache, you ever get the feeling that . . . Oh, hell, I don't know.” Murdoc trailed off, while 2-D stared blankly over at him.  
   
    “Why, I fink you've got off the deep end, Murdoc!” 2-D joked. Murdoc laughed and reached over, slamming 2-D upside the head. He whimpered, but managed to retain from edging it on further.
   
    All of a sudden, amidst Murdoc's wild laughter, he jolted and quickly turned to the doorway, looking into the kitchen. Nothing. He groaned with disapproval and tossed his cigarette to the concrete, crushing it with his boot.
   
    “Muds!” 2-D cried out, just as Murdoc had one foot in the doorway. “What's the matter wiff you? You're acting odd - odder than normal. Odder? Isn't that a sea animal . . . like a beaver?”
   
    Sensing that 2-D was trailing off, Murdoc shook his head and continued on into the kitchen, sliding the glass door closed and locking it behind him devilishly.