The Cuckoo's Nest.

The Corvette screamed up the winding mountain road. The wind was deafening with the top down and the sun shone pleasantly on the cliff face. Music that sounded like it belonged in a European cafe streamed from the stereo. Lively guitar chords and the sweet sounds of an accordion accompanied the sound of burning rubber as the sports car took another sharp turn.

Below them, thousands of feet below, stretched the beach-side town of Bel Sol. Small shops and pleasant parks gave way to a bustling pier and then the great, glimmering ocean. Speeding by on the other side of the road was a number of fancy apartment complexes. They were all made of sun-dried brick and had a warm look. Little Bill, as the mountain was affectionately called by the locals, had recently become a hot spot of residential development. Companies poured in to buy up the real estate and make a profit off the beautiful view and sleepy feeling of the town. As Greg white knuckled the roaring car's door, he couldn't help feeling sorry for the poor folks. The poor bastards had no idea what was coming.

At the wheel was Jean, essentially sex, fire, and hard pink lemonade in a can. Her platinum blonde hair whipped around, tossed by the wind and flapped against her caramel tan skin. She laughed as she roared around another turn. Greg nearly vomited over the side. How he ever ended up with her was a mystery. They had met almost a year ago now at a piano concert in Cincinnati. She had looked so charming in that black dress and her bright blue ear-rings, applauding softly as the curtain rose. He should have known by her eyes. There was something about her eyes. If you looked closely, you could see supernovas.

Still, Greg loved her. He would never understand how he put up with her, but he loved her. Greg was nowhere near as energetic as her. His face, a mix of Italian and Irish features, had a heavy brown stubble and though he was still young his hair was beginning to grey. Most said it was a genetic condition, but he had his suspicions. The two had moved out here to live together. The place seemed like a great place to get away and Jean's relatives had the money to pay for it. Greg suspected Jean's relatives had the money to pay for pretty much anything.

"Jean!" Greg shouted over the wind, "Can we please slow down?"

Jean lowered her sunglasses as she looked at him for a brief moment, revealing those blue cosmic beauties. "Oh come on Greg! We're almost there!" Another hairpin turn took her attention.

"At least, I think we're almost there!"

"I hope so! Any longer and you're likely to toss us off the mountain!"

"What are you talking about? I'm a great driver." Greg fought back the urge to hurl.

Just as he was about to give in, he heard Jean yell, "Oh! There it is!"

The car screeched as Jean stepped on the brake and flew into the driveway. The world stopped. Greg closed his eyes, feeling dizzy. Not the world, just the car. Greg flung open the door and fell to the ground, beginning to kiss the concrete. Jean came around the car and stood over him, half laughing half berating.

"Oh stop joking. It wasn't that bad." She was wearing short jean shorts and a white blouse. It was cute.

"Your right," said Greg as he stood up, "it wasn't that bad. My parents won't be needing to plan a funeral after all!"

She made a face and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You're lucky I love you."

"Thank God for my good looks and charm."

"Ha! Yeah, right. 'Good looks and charm.' Keep dreaming." She turned toward the apartment and beamed. "Isn't it great."

"Yeah. It's charming." Greg shouldered his travel bag from the back seat of the red Corvette.

Quickly, Jean grabbed his hand and swept him towards the building. Outside hung a sign.

211 Baker Street.

Excitedly, Jean turned the keys in the door. "Come on, we're Flat C. Second Floor." She opened the door and revealed a off white tile stairwell. The building was air-conditioned and the stone tile held the temperature well. Greg sighed, feeling the cold air rush against his face. Before he could take a deep breath though, Jean was leading them up the stairwell.

The reached the second floor, white washed door labeled 'C' and Jean quickly turned the key.

Greg raised an eyebrow and Jean squealed in delight. The Flat was nice, very nice. The floors were a wonderful white tile with a diamond pattern. The door led straight into the living room. It was a large space with three full sized, brown leather couches which sat in front of a flat screen. A large window offered a fantastic view of the ocean town below. Behind the couches, a step up, was a full kitchen and dining room combo with the latest appliances. A chestnut stained bar separated the the kitchen and the living room.

From the living room, two halls branched off on opposite sides. At the end of each was a full bed and bath combo. The bedrooms were barely furnished, save the actual king sized beds, and were ripe for decoration. The bedrooms featured plush white carpet and also had a spectacular view, each with their own balcony. The bathrooms were also impressive with walk in showers with tinted glass doors, a bath, and all the other necessary amenities.

Jean sighed contentedly and flopped onto one of the couches, her legs draped haphazardly over the leg. With her eyes closed, she sighed again and cooed, "I already love it..."

Greg set down his bag and had to admit he was impressed as well. Still, one thing was bothering him.

"Um... Hun... Why are there two bedrooms?"

"Oh," Jean said as she looked at him between her legs, "those are for our flat-mates."

"Flat-mates?!"

The sun was blazing down from the skies, its rays seemingly flowing down Little Bill, flooding the town below with their pleasant warm glow. They bathed the small town of Bel Sol in the light of a new beginning. What this was the beginning of, noone could say yet.
It was a fact, however, that only a few years ao most of this town hadn't even existed yet.
But thanks to the constant population growth and the prospects of profit huge sums of money had been poured into developing Bel Sol into what it was now.

In this idyllic piece of scenery, two figures were to be seen walking down the street.
One of them was carrying more bags and suitcases than he should, only managing to proceed slowly and staggering quite often. The other one was fiddling with a rather large map, unsuccessfully trying to figure out, where they were.

Finally the man, who was carrying a stack of suitcases higher than himself began to speak:
"Oh come on, Laura! I can't see, where we are going and
even I know, that we are going in the wrong direction!"

"Oh? And what makes you so sure of that if I meay ask?", the young woman replied, various tribal tattoos adorning her skin, which had been given a tan, almost orangeish tone by the sun's rays.

"Well...maybe it is the city-limit sign we just passed. I think that's a rather definite indicator, wouldn't you agree?", Luke's voice replied teasingly.

"That...that's just...urgh, fine...let's turn around. But if you wouldn't have distracted me, we would be there already..."

And so the argument continued for quite some time, while the duo made their way through the streets of Bel Sol, trying to find their goal. Even though one wouldn't have been able to deduce it from their conversations, Luke and Laura actually loved each other deeply and cared for each other. A few years ago the two had met in college in an interdisciplinary program, Luke having studied neuroscience while Laura had been working towards becoming a teacher. It didn't take long for the two to fall in love, so the two had soon moved together and were overjoyed to have found employment in the direct periphery of Bel Sol, Luke as a neuroscientist while Laura would be teaching chemistry and English in secondary school.
Finally the two of them stood in front of the flat they were going to live in now.

"See! Told ya I'd find it!", Laura commented enthusiastically.
Luke however decided to refrain from responding for now, both  because his back was killing him right now and because they hadn't met their flatmates yet. For all that he knew, they could be complete nutjobs. They probably were.
But it was too late to turn back now, as Laura had already turned the key in its lock.

The door opened...

...and the adventure began.

Just as Greg spoke the door opened behind him. He swung around to greet their new flat mates. First, all he could see was a giant mound of suitcases, presumably with a man behind them. Then a young, tan woman emerged. The two must have been another couple.

Not wanting to seem as peeved as he really was, Greg extended a hand in friendship.

"Hello! My name's Greg. I guess we'll be be rooming together from now on, huh?"

"Hi! My name's Jean!"

Greg glanced over his shoulder and stiffened. He realized how this must have looked. Two strangers in an empty apartment with the woman lying on the couch, he legs splayed apart. Good Lord, they would think they were some sort of sex fiends.

"Um, also," Greg stammered, "I assure you that this is not what it looks like."

"It's exactly what it looks like." Jean was not helping.

"No. It's not."

"You wish it was what they think it looks like."

Greg whispered behind him, "Jean... They're going to think we're insane."

Jean grinned in a way that said, 'Too late!'

Hamming up a fit of fake ecstasy, Jean moaned, "Oh Greg, don't stop. We were having soooo much fun... Maybe they'd like to join in, lover?"

Greg turned red. Whether this was from embarrassment or frustration was hard to tell. Trying to save the situation, he began to usher the two away. "Here, why don't we get you both settled in your bedroom?"

"Oh Greg, no! We haven't even finished christening both beds! OOOOH, Greeeg. Come back, Greg..."

Greg continued to lead the two away. Though he seemed upset, there was a small part of him that was laughing.

After carefully maneuvering himself and the stack of suitcases through the door, Luke somehow managed to set them down on the floor, the techniques he used being describable by a variety of words ranging from "creative" to "clumsy".
As he slowly got up again, he, pained by his overworked spine, began to respond.

"Hey, my -urgh- my name is-"

"Heya and hello, you two! I'm Laura and this is Luke! We're going to be living together from now on I guess! Let's hope for it to become a wonderful time! This is going to be great!"

Not even having realized Jean's rather...definite pose because of the suitcases, his back and him being interrupted, Luke would probably not even have reacted, would Greg's reassurances not have directed his attention at her. But since the implications were impossible to miss now, Luke's face turned almost as red as Greg's while he was just standing there, trying to think of how to respond.

Laura however wasn't nearly as fazed as the others, instead retaliating with:
"Don't believe, that this is going to work. If you were actually having intercourse, you wouldn't be wearing clothes. We had a key ourselves, so you would have had no time to react. Therefore you are probably just trying to embarrass him."

Luke meanwhile had sat down on the floor, leaning against the pile of suitcases. Great. Their flatmates were total nutjobs. The woman at least. What was her name again? Jean? Why did he have the feeling, that he would be screaming her name in rage quite often? Trying to contribute at least a bit to the discussion and to change the subject, he began to speak again:
"Have you...have you decided on a room already?"