[ WP/MP ] Write a story reimagining a character from another piece of fiction as down-and-out/washed up/past their prime .

Mick was n't sure he really wanted to go to his own birthday party. The divorce, although a year passed, was still fresh in his mind, and he was n't sure he needed another reminder of that bitchy old rat he'd spent most of his life with. It's not like turning 100 was anything special. Physically he was as good as new, but god knows that did n't make him feel any younger. He wondered how many future centennial birthdays he would be forced to celebrate before everyone grew bored of the whole thing and limited it to once a millennium. Then once every 100,000 years. If he was lucky, one day they'd forget about him entirely. 
 
 *Grab a fully loaded semi-automatic, aim it at your head, and empty the barrel. * 
 
 Mick squeaked out a sad `` ha-ha'' at the thought. Like that would do it. 
 
 He forced himself out of bed as some dopey tune rang out of his alarm, probably sung by birds or some shit. He'd tried unplugging the alarm decades ago. He threw it in water. He burned it. He once managed to eject it into space. Did n't matter. Everyday he'd wake up to some godawful happy-go-lucky bullshit. It was like some horrible real-life version of that Bill Murray movie, except the days kept going, which was somehow worse. 
 
 Mick had never actually seen that movie. He had a thing about rodents. 
 
 He opened the closet which held all his suits, a closet he had n't opened since at least the divorce. It was as big as a normal person's bedroom. If only this was just a bedroom and he was just a normal person and he had died peacefully as his normal family held his hand and- 
 
 *Do n't think about this bullshit now, Mick. Swallow your valium and get on with it. * 
 
 The valium was n't prescription. But hey, got ta always keep that happy demeanor, never let them know what's going on inside, just smile and wave and do your stupid bit parts and get on with the rest of 
 
 *eternity* 
 
 your life. 
 
 He reached for one of the hundreds of identical suits that he owned: red pants, white shirt, suit jacket, and the stupid yellow bow tie. The same outfit. Every goddamned day. 
 
 He trudged himself downstairs and through the main hallway, past all the awards and achievements and rewards and pictures and trophies and sashes and official titles and deeds and documents and- 
 
 Oh shit. He'd forgotten to put on his shoes. 
 
 He trudged back through the main hall and up the stairs past all the statues and fan mail and movie posters and framed autographs and limited-edition figurines and alcohol. 
 
 There was a loooooooooooot of alcohol around the house. Strategically placed 
 
 *everywhere* 
 
 for maximum benefit. 
 
 He went into his obscenely spacey closet and bent down to put on whatever pair of shoes he happened to land on first. And then he heard a bump and a muffled grunt. And then he looked up and into the back of his closet. And then he saw a hint of light red fabric poking out from behind one of his suits. 
 
 And good god, those were polka dots on the fabric. 
 
 He sighed and stood up. 
 
 `` Alright, I know you're in here, just show yourself.'' 
 
 She showed herself. She looked like shit. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hairline had receded, her mouth was covered in dried pus and some kind of white foam, and she could n't stop shaking. 
 
 `` H-h-h-hey Mick.'' 
 
 `` Jesus, what the hell happened to you?'' 
 
 W-w-w-well I just have n't b-b-b-been the same since we w-w-w-were split up. N-n-no one really cares about just m-m-m-me on my own. Ha-h-h-h-h-ha.'' 
 
 `` So you took it upon yourself to hide in my fucking closet? How long have you been in here?'' 
 
 He stormed over to where she was sheepishly standing and pushed her aside to see exactly how she had been living here. 
 
 There was an arched hole dug into the wall. He glared at her. 
 
 `` I, uh, guess instinct kinda t-t-t-took over.'' 
 
 
 
 
 
 **And that's all I can write right now because I have places to be, things to see, etc. etc. But if people like this, I'd be happy to write more later. **
