A/N: Hello and welcome to 'The Proper Method'. As the summary states, it's about Noodle attempting to teach 2D how to use chopsticks. Key word: attempting. There's no romance, no swears, no nada. Hooray for being kid-friendly!

It's from Noodle's POV, set during phase two.

Twisted Cinderella was the one who have me the idea for this story. So thank you very much to her! This was very fun to write, and it was nice to take a break from writing depressing Gorillaz fics. =)

Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Gorillaz. Pretty surprising, right?

It was a fairly average day at Kong Studios. Well, as average as it gets here. Average for us includes things like the ghouls who haunt the bathroom cackling madly, the zombies that infest the land moaning and trying to eat whoever comes outside, creepy spirits and demons roaming the halls, oblivious to the world around them, Russel's creepy taxidermy projects around every corner, unidentified objects lying on the ground of nearly every room, and… well, you get the point.

It was around three o'clock in the afternoon, and the studio was fairly quiet. As quiet as it gets, at least. Russel had just eaten basically everything in the fridge, and was now taking a nap in his room. Murdoc was nowhere to be seen; he had probably retreated into his Winnebago, like he did every afternoon when we had nothing important to do. I didn't even want to know what he did in there. And 2D was also missing. I thought he was probably just in his room or something, playing Pong or Helidrop. It didn't matter too much.

I was really bored at that point, and my fourteen-year-old brain was desperate for something to do, so I went into the kitchen to see if Russel had left anything to eat for dinner. I wasn't hungry, but I was curious. I didn't want to get my hopes up, because we normally didn't have many edible things in the fridge as is. It was mostly organs, severed body parts, moldy old food, beer, and this weird purple goop. I'm not quite sure what it is, but it's been there for so long I hardly even notice it anymore.

When I walked into the crowded, rather foul-smelling kitchen, I saw that I wasn't alone. There was 2D, sitting at the counter, a bowl of spaghetti sitting in front of him. This wouldn't have been too peculiar if it wasn't for the look on 2D's face. It looked slightly… distressed. Maybe he was wondering if Murdoc had poisoned his food. Again.

I stood quietly in the doorway for a little while, wondering what was wrong. As I watched, 2D picked up a utensil from next to the bowl. But it wasn't a fork. It was a spoon. Then he started eating the spaghetti with the spoon. It wasn't working. The long noodles kept slipping off of the spoon, and every time the food missed his mouth, 2D looked more and more frustrated. It was really funny, but after a few minutes I began to feel a little bad for him. So I decided to show myself.

"Hello, 2D-san!" I chimed, walking into the room.

The blue-haired man jumped a bit, spinning to face me. Me being the ninja that I am, he must have not heard me coming. When he saw who it was, he relaxed a little, though he still looked pretty POed with his situation. "Oh, hey Noods."

"What is the matter?" I asked him, even though I already knew the answer. I didn't want him to know I had been watching him for the last few minutes.

"Ah, well…" He bit his lip, which was pretty impressive for a guy with no front teeth. "See, Russel don't like spaghetti, and I was hungry, so I decided to eat some of it. But… I couldn't find a fork… so…"

I giggled. "Where did all the forks go?"

2D threw his arms up in exasperation. "I don't know! They keep disappearing! And I can't find any! Not dirty, not clean, not even-"

"So you decided to eat them with a spoon? How is that working out?"

2D paused, looking like a lost puppy. A lost puppy with black holes for eyes, a mess of blue hair, and very un-kept teeth, but a lost puppy nonetheless. I smiled, suddenly getting an idea. "Well, if there are not any forks, and you cannot eat your spaghetti with a spoon... or a knife," I added hastily, making sure the singer wouldn't try anything stupid, "how about I teach you how to use chopsticks?"

To tell you the truth, I had been waiting for an opportunity like this for a while. I loved eating with chopsticks, and there was actually quite a few pairs of them lying around the kitchen. I thought after our trip to Japan the others might have gained an interest in them, too, but no one had. I wasn't that disappointed, but it did make my spirits drop just a little. Now, the thought of 2D-san using chopsticks made me happy.

2D, however, looked unsure. "Teach me how to use… chopsticks?"

I nodded. "Yes! Please? It is not that hard. And it is fun." I put on my best pleading face I could manage, even wiping my black, thick bangs out of my eyes so he could see how earnest my green eyes looked.

I won. 2D sighed and said, "Ok, you can teach me. Can you grab me a… uh...?"

"A pair," I finished his sentence, already at the kitchen cabinets, searching through the mess of unused pots and pans for the chopsticks. Soon I had found two wooden pairs of them, and skipped back to the counter. I offered the twenty-five-year-old a pair, and he took them in his long pale hands. He looked really awkward holding them; he had them held tight in a balled-up fist.

I smiled again. "Ok, 2D-san, which hand do you write with?"

"Both," he responded.


"I'm ambi- ambi… ambidex…" his black eyes suddenly looked far away. Nothing new. 2D was a well-known space cadet.

"Ambidextrous?" I offered.

"Yeah, that."

"So am I, so I guess it does not matter which hand we start with. I tend to use my right more than my left, but you may use either."

2D quickly made two L's with both hands, trying to find out which one was his right hand. When he had that down, I said, "Ok! So, first you hold the two chopsticks next to each other, and put them together in your hand like you are holding a pencil."

2D moved his fingers around, changing the fist into a loose grip, and tried to get the chopsticks into place. But then he lost the fingering, and the chopsticks fell to the ground with a clatter. I had always thought 2D would have really graceful fingering since he played keyboard so well, but I guess I was wrong.

Looking slightly embarrassed, he stooped down to recover the wooden sticks. I smiled when he stood back up. "It is ok. Here, watch me." I held the chopsticks between my thumb and pointer finger, with some help from my middle finger. It felt so natural; I wondered how 2D could not get it. But the confused look on the singer's face was enough to tell me it was going to take more than a demonstration to teach him.

"Um, ok, after you have the two chopsticks like this, you raise the end of the top one by pushing down with your pointer finger, like this. That was you have them at an angle with the tips touching and the ends about an inch away. Then you keep the bottom chopstick where it is, in the indent of your thumb, and you move the top chopstick by pressing up and down on the top chopstick, so the ends are pinching and un-pinching. That's how you pick up the food!" I paused my live demonstration to look up at him. "Get it?"

"S-sorry, Noods, I just missed that. Could you repeat it please?"

This was going to take a while.

A half hour later, and my teaching session had been far from successful. So far, 2D had caused more destruction than I even thought as possible to create with such a small, innocent-looking pair of chopsticks.

Yet, so far…

He had dropped them about a million times. One time one of them rolled underneath the counter, and since no one could reach it, we had to find another chopstick to complete the set. Now there was an uneven amount. Great.

He had accidentally thrown them many times, too. Usually when he was trying to get his fingers to stay where they were supposed to be, his fingers would suddenly flip out and the chopsticks would fly out of his hands. So far they had imbedded themselves in the wall four times, the ceiling two times, the window once, (that one took a while to recover, and resulted in even more broken glass littering the floor), and once even my forehead. I got a small scratch from that, and after 2D apologized about a thousand times I told him it was no big deal. A super-soldier like me should have seen them coming at me, anyways.

Once he had somehow managed to shove one of them up his nose. Don't even ask me how, because I have not the slightest clue. I heard a scream, I turned around, and there he was, one chopstick still clutched in his hand and the other sticking out of his nostril. We had to take a break after that, and 2D had to take some of his migraine pills. I wondered if that chopstick poked his brain or something. I hoped that if it did he would suddenly become really good at using the chopsticks, like in old movies and stuff, but that didn't happen.

At first I thought I was just a bad teacher, but I slowly realized that 2D just wasn't good at this. At all. And that was putting it nicely.

After forty-five minutes of one failure after the next, the poor chopsticks had been battered and chipped until they looked more like sticks you would find in the woods than hand-carved eating utensils. They were covered in snot, blood, dust, and purple goop, (from the time they flew into the fridge, which 2D had apparently left open). The whole thing seemed hopeless.

"I'm sorry, Noodle… I'm just no good at this," 2D sighed, placing the chopsticks down on the counter and staring longingly at the bowl of spaghetti, "but I'm so hungry…"

He looked about ready to eat with his hands, but then I thought of something. Why hadn't I thought of this earlier? "2D-san, wash off your chopsticks. Let us try actually eating with them! Maybe you will be better if you actually have something to pick up!" I felt really dumb for not thinking of that before.

Shrugging, 2D went to the rusty tap and ran the wooden utensils under the water for a few minutes, scrubbing with a moldy sponge and trying to squeeze the last few drops of soap out from an old dish-soap bottle. I wondered how long it had been since someone used that. When he was done, the chopsticks certainly looked better, but still pretty beat up.

"Ok, now just try to pick up the spaghetti. Remember what I showed you, ok?" I smiled, and he forced a smile back as he sat back down in front of his lunch. For a while he just stared at the bowl, chopsticks held in an almost-decent position. I wondered if he was giving himself a mental pep talk or something.

Finally, he lowered the chopsticks into the bowl of sauce-covered noodles, moved his fingers a bit, then brought the chopsticks back out. There was spaghetti hanging off of them. Sure, he had only caught a few pieces and the rest were just sort of hanging there, but it was definitely something!

"Way to go, D!" I cheered happily, fist pounding the air proudly. He gave me a huge grin, then, as if to show off, stuck the spaghetti into his mouth and went for a second bite. He managed to get even more the second time. I guess all he needed was something to actually practice on instead of just doing the hand motions or pinching the air. Huh.

He scooped more into his mouth, looking pretty darn satisfied, and I leaned against the wall, beaming like a proud parent.

He was doing great until about his eighth or ninth bite. He must have just lost his fingering or something, because one second the chopsticks were hovering in front of his mouth, loaded with spaghetti, the next second one of them had clattered to the floor, and 2D had spilled spaghetti on his white T-shirt. I winced. That sauce wouldn't come out easily.

2D moaned loudly and let his head fall onto the counter.

I didn't realize how much noise we must have been making until Murdoc stormed into the kitchen, wearing nothing but his briefs and his Satanist necklace. He didn't look like a happy camper.

"I've been trying to put up with all the crashes and moaning and groaning and screams and all that crap for hours now!" He cried, throwing his green arms into the air, pointy teeth bared. I tried not to roll my eyes. It hadn't been hours. Murdoc glanced around the room, taking in the new holes in the wall and ceiling, the new break in the window, open fridge, the muddled cabinets, my bleeding forehead, and finally 2D, sitting at the counter with spaghetti and sauce all over his shirt. Murdoc's mix-matched eyes narrowed. "What's going on in here, eh?"

2D looked at me, sending me a message through his vacant eyes that I should be the one to tell him. This wasn't fair; I wasn't the one who had managed to destroy the kitchen with only a pair of chopsticks, for God's sake! But then I thought again, and realized I probably should be the one to tell Murdoc, because if 2D told him, well… I really didn't want our singer to be in the hospital for a week. Again.

"I was teaching 2D how to use chopsticks, Murdoc-san," I told him quickly, stepping between him and 2D and smiling sweetly. Murdoc looked surprised for a second, like he had forgotten I was there, but then he looked hostile again.

"Do you two really expect me to believe all this mess and all this noise was caused by some chopsticks?" He hissed.

"Some chopsticks and a really clueless klutz…" I mumbled under my breath, just as 2D exclaimed, "It's harder than it looks, Muds! I'd like to see you try it!"

Murdoc looked as though he would have liked to hit him, but instead he said something that surprised us. He said, "Pft. How hard can it be?" Then he pushed 2D off of his seat, retrieved the chopstick that had fallen on the ground, and picked up the other one that lay on the counter. All the while he was mumbling something about, "shoving that chopstick where it belongs…"

But he didn't sit down in front of the spaghetti. Instead, he went to the knife drawer, brought out a particularly sharp one, and began to sharpen the chopsticks. I watched, my mouth hanging open, as he whittled away at the already-muddled pair, making the end of each one sharper and sharper. And after that was done, he went to the fridge and brought out an old, moldy piece of pork. He turned back to the counter, sharpened chopsticks and pork on a plate in hand, and said, "What? I hate spaghetti."

He placed the pork down on the table, raised the chopsticks high, and…


Stabbed the pork right through with both sticks.

Then he stuck the piece in his mouth and ate it with one bite.

"See? Easy. Now clean up this mess, Dullard."

And he left.

2D and I stood in silence for a while. Then the blue-haired man turned to me and asked, "Why didn't you teach me how to do it like that, Noodle?"

I punched him in the shoulder and left without another word.

I'd have to remember to hide my stash of chopsticks somewhere else, so no one would be able to ruin any more of them. I never wanted anyone else to use them but me.

A/N: Murdoc is such a bad influence.

Please review and tell me what you think! All review types are welcome, except for flames. Flames are no fun. Anyways, I love getting reviews, anonymous ones, too, so feel free to click on the little link below and type up what you think! It only takes seconds, and it makes me a very happy cow.

I have two other Gorillaz fics, both about 2D and Noodle, if anyone's interested. I also have many Gorillaz fics planned for the future, so if anyone's interested in what's up next feel free to PM me and I can give you the details and whatnot.

Thanks for reading!