#HE GOT ME SAYING THINGS LIKE YAY AND YIPPEE AND STUFF OF THAT NATURE

[iammarylastar]

1. Father and son.

“You’re doing this damn wrong!”

He yanks the fishing rod from his son’s hands and starts reeling the hooked fish back, lifting and pulling on the rod.

“That fucker is a big one.” He grunts, fighting with Jack’s catch, finally pulling it out of the water.

Jack has the net ready to pick up the fish, but John unhooks the wiggling fish, fighting for its life and throws it back to the river.

“What’s the point with catch and release?” Jack asks, pretty pissed off to see their possibly dinner swimming away. They’re good for another awful undrinkable instant soup tonight.

“The point is to spend time together, not to kill innocent fish.”

Jack sighs heavily, that father-and-son week-end in the middle of nowhere, stuck with the man who fathered him but was more a ghost than a dad, is turning into the worst idea of the century. As promised.

“Like you would give a shit. How many bad guys have you killed by now?” He snorted.

“You yourself just said. They were bad guys. Those fish did nothing wrong. ”

Jack nods his head no, giving up.

“Well … What’s next? Did you plan to massage my feet or something?” He mocks.

“This is what the girls planned. We’re men. We will down some beers and have a talk.” John says, like there’s something they’re used to.

Jack grabs two beers from the cooler and throws one to his father. He somehow would rather share the spa with his mother and sister than having a talk with his so called father.

“A talk? Since when do we talk?” Jack laughs.

“I know, we’re not a very talkative family. But at least we could try.” John says with hope.

“I often talk to Lucy and Ma. But… sounds weird to speak with you.” Jack admits.

“Come on Jack, don’t be shy to me. What’s up?” John asks.

“Nothing new. The usual.”

That lame attempt to line up more than 3 words sounds ridiculous and not natural at all.

“Great.” John says, sipping his beer. That’s a good beginning. They never have shared so much.

A weird and uncomfortable silence settles down between the two men.

“Great, right.” Jack concludes, downing half of his beer.  He could make it. Glancing at his watch, he quickly does his maths. 36 more hours and he would be free from this stupid tentative of reconciliation. If he manages to over sleep till noon tomorrow, the countdown would go faster.

“You live in a house?” John inquires.

“A flat. I’m away most of the time, remember?” Jack answers sarcastically.

“Safe exit? Outdoor stairs clear? Easy access to the roof top?” John questions.

“John… Beat it.” He suddenly regrets skipping to buy cigarettes. He doesn’t smoke but he thought it could be a good occasion to start. He needs a smoke right now.

“Any girlfriend waiting for you at home?

“Really? John you’re not ready for such a conversation.”

“Fuck off! Son, I’m your dad. I’m ready for worse than talking about your damn girlfriend! I saved your little ass more than once in Russia. Don’t you want to open your heart to your old father before he dies? ”

Jack wishes he was dead. Open his heart to his dad? Why not. But this dad? Bullshit!

“As I said, I’m away most of the time. Not the right job to get a girl.”

“I did. I got a wife and a family. If I could do it, anyone could.” John shows off.

“Yeah, teach me some tips… How manynominations for the Father of the year award did you get?” He snaps.  This silly heart-to-heart talk is turning sour; how could it be otherwise?

“I did my best! Do you think it’s easy to be at home pampering or having your homework done whilst running after dangerous rascals?” John argues, his voice reaching its highest perchedsignature.

“Yippee-kay-yay motherfucker. That’s why I won’t have a family. Don’t wanna take the risk to waste other lives but mine.” Jack snarls before emptying his beer in a huge gulp.

“Are you kidding me? You don’t want to raise a family? You can’t be serious!”

“I have thought about it more than once. There’s no better option.”

“So I have fathered an idiot. Building a family is the best thing I ever did in my whole life.”

“If I may… the family patterns I grew up in really cured me of. There is nothing more I want than not being the father you were. You still are.”

“Dammit Jack. You’re whining again. He pauses, downing his beer then asks "Have I been such a bad father?

"You can’t imagine. The worst of the worst.” If he wants to talk, then Jack will tell him the truth.

“I think that’s a little bit of an exaggeration…” John starts.

“John! You sucked. You still suck. You pretend to know me, but you don’t.” John chuckles, ready to prove his point.

“When is my birthday then? You missed the latest 26th.” Jack cuts him off.

“I know exactly when you��were born! Molly called me on her way to the hospital; I was speed chasing that guy who robbed the Bank of N.Y. I remember it like it's yesterday, it was a thursday, around June. It was hot as hell outside. ”

“Nice try.” Jack laughs.“I was born in January, the first day of Winter. It was a Monday and it was snowing. You blew up half of Manhattan, and ended up in the middle of the fire you lit, throwing a match too close to some wrecked cars.”

“Yes, that day was exhausting, I needed a smoke. And the fire was to celebrate your birth.” John remembers.

“Which you missed.” Jack glares at his father.

“Yeah, right. But at least I caught the guy …”

“He has been luckier than me then.” Jack whispers.

“Your mom was very upset at me when I arrived at the hospital.”

“Yeah she still is. "Jack chuckles.” You were covered with blood, your clothes torn and half burned and you were yelling like a bear at the nurses to let you in.“

"I wanted to see you. My son.” MacLane leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“Are you going to put on the sob act,  aren’t you? I beg you, don’t…”

Jack is not ready to hear his father to open his heart to him. Definitely not. The emotions turn makes him uncomfortable. He thinks for a second he would need a hug. From his mom, who else?

Jack fiddles the corner of the label of his empty beer, then shyly spits out.

“There was this girl… I dated for months… about 5 years ago.”

Shade.

“She…” he fights to say the words.  “She made me want to drop everything and settle down with her. You know… like she was the one. We even talked about starting a family but…” he doesn’t finish his sentence.

“What? What happened?”

“She let me down. She left and I’ve never heard from her since.”

John drops his empty bottle and grabs two new beers out of the cooler.

“She didn’t tell you why?” He -for once- sounds compassionate, and hands the cool beer to his son.

“Nope.” He sighs. “When I went back home, she was gone. She tore my whole wardrobe, crushed my TV and my heart in pieces. End of story.”

“Little slut. She didn’t deserve you.” He drinks a sip and goes on.  “Went back from what?”

“A mission. The day I planned to propose to her, I was sent on a mission to Germany.”

“Shit! How long were you gone?”

“About 5 months.” Jack’s voice turns sad at the memory.  She ruined his love.

“You gave news?”

“You know the rules, John. No calls, no mails, no tracks. The mission first.”

“For God’s sake, are you dumb? I knew I fucked up with you as a father,  but you’re way more stupid than I thought.” John scolds his damn son.

“What?” Insults are not what he needs.

“You have left your girl for 5 fucking months? Nearly engaged? With no news? And you dare to say she broke your heart?”

“Because she broke it! I was crazy in love with her and she just… FUCK!” Jack throws his bottle which smashes on a rock. “Drop it. Gimme another beer. No chance you brought stronger drinks?”

“Nah. Your mother made me swear we stay sober.” John shoves his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket and gives his son a flask of whiskey. “She told me I better bring you back in one piece or I’m gonna be in heap big troubles.”

Jack grabs the whiskey and takes a sip, frowning as the amber liquid burns his throat.

“Troubles do know you, don’t they?” He chuckles.

“Fuck they do. So you were in love son?” John inquires.

“Yeah… I’m still wondering why she didn’t wait for me.” He scratches the back of his neck.

“Smart ass. Women will never understand what we do for a living. But what did you expect? It’s like you left her at the altar…”

“She knew my job. She was a cop herself. CIA. Special agent. We met on a mission. And if I remember correctly you did that to mom.” Jack mocks.

“I went to my wedding. Late but on time to say ‘I do!’.”

“Yeah. Mom told me about that. You were pretty late and not fit for a bride.”

“A cop! I bet things worked well between the two of you!” John focuses the subject on his son.

“Fireworks. She had a strong personality. Like mom.” Jack admits.

“McLanes are meant to date bitches, right?”

Jack reaches his beer out, waiting for his dad to cling his own. “Cheers, man. To strong women we loved and messed up with!”

“Cheers!” He bangs the beers together.“What’s that man thing? What happened to dad and John?”

“They’re obsolete. You’re growing old,  man.”

A cell Phone chirps in the bag that lays between the two men. Jack rushes on his knee and grabs his Phone.

“McLane?” He answers. He listens carefully,  nodding his head and humming yes to the speaker.

“OK. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.” He says, before grabbing his bag.

“Sorry John. Urgent call. I have to go back to my office.” He seems released to live his love life there, along with that stupid week-end.

“A mission?” He stands up and starts to gather their shits.

“Yeah. I’m summoned. Too bad for the fish. Let’s pack up and go. You’ll tell me where to drop you off.”

John stares at his offspring and utters.

“Who said you have to drop me anywhere? I go with you. Nobody will waste my father-and-son week-end.”

“But dad! ” Jack objects.

“Dad is back! ” he laughs. “As your dad I want to go with you. Last time we worked together was so much fun!” He walks towards the pickup and throws the fishing stuff in the back.

“You won’t get rid of me son. McLanes are back!”

“Shit.” Jack whispers. “OK! Let’s go ruin someone’s life then.”

Cover by Nancy. @jaihardy @bookwarm85 @kenzieam @oddsnendsfanfics @frecklefaceb @badassbaker @beautifulramblingbrains @societalfailure @jaicourtneyseyes @jaicourtneyforever @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @red-diary @captstefanbrandt

@angaleswannawearmyredshooz

[gizoogletranslateshomestuck]

[A6A6I5] ====>

DIZNAVE: They call me tha black folks president. dizzy DIZZAY: n i T-H-to-tha-izzought our houzes were pointlesslizzle T-to-tha-izzall befizzle DIZNAVE: it jizzay dizzy stop from keep constantly gett'n more n more vertically enormous

DIRK: Shit be downright precipitous at dis point thats off tha hook yo. DIZNIRK: Like, upways.

DAVE: haha yeah DAVE: Bounce wit me. we made siznure as fuck nizzay ta come right out n literally describe that bizzle as tall

DIRK: Hizzy yes. DIRK: Who nizneeds small n serviceable adjizzles whizzen tha mizzost ass-backwards way of ho-slappin' a th'n be R-to-tha-izzight there, tantalizingly hidden witin tha vast ocean of language. DIZZIRK: Like a treasure 'n a huge shitty clizzam.

DAVE: we be way on tha same pizzay philosophically here

DIRK, betta check yo self: Whizzle be surprize' by dis so show some love, niggaz! DIZNIRK: Zero thugz, be who cuz I'm fresh out the pen.

DAVE: sounds like a C-L-to-tha-izzub fo` baller ta me DIZZY: Listen to how a motherfucker flow shit. tizzy luckizzle they dizzle have any memba, otherwize theyd all be lame as hell

DIRK: Yeah.

DAVE: so uh DAVE: why do tha houzes nizzle ta be so tall again DAVE: i neva actually understood that DAVE like a motha fucka: except ta reach tha gizzles bizzy once we all figured out hizzy ta fly n shit that became so pointless

DIZZLE: Yizzeah. Fo'-fo' desert eagle to your motherfuckin' dome. Afta a wizzy 'n tha game, build'n kind of stopped matter'n. DIRK: Except near tha end doggystyle. Spendin' them ta tha top be jizzay a point of completion. DIZZAY fo yo bitch ass: Tizzy you dump tha grist rizzig on top of it, apparizzle. DIZZIRK: That lets tha ballin' spray out all tha grist frizzle tha hoard 'n tha planet ciznore, K-to-tha-izzind of like a hiznuge oil dizzle I guess. Aint no killin' everybodys chillin'.

DAVE: oh DIZZY spittin' that real shit: hizzle d-ya know dis DIZZLE: do you guys hizzay like a manual or

DIRK: I'm in communication wit Arquiusprite. DIZZIRK: He frontin' on it now, know what im sayin?

DAVE: so yiznoure 'n communication wit hizzy like... Ya fuck with us, we gots to fuck you up. DAVE: RIGHT niznow?

DIZZY: Yes. DIZZAY: Vizzia mah shades bitch ass nigga. DIZZIRK but real niggaz don't give a fuck: Whizzay he incidentally used to be. DIZZY droppin hits: Like, as a computa, which he lived inside as mah Auto-responda. Bow wow wow yippee yo yipee yay.

DIZZAVE: right DAVE: n DIZZY: Listen to how a motherfucker flow shit. uh DAVE: wizzy yeah yeah baby... did you mizzle that th'n again DAVE now motherfuckers lemme here ya say hoe: nizzle thizzat you eva tiznold me befizzle DAVE: I thought i told ya, nigga I'm a soldier. 'again' be just like a stammering tack-on ta that sentizzle so as to try n niznot sound too fuck'n rizzle

DIRK: I D-to-tha-izzon't thiznink it a riznude question. It perfectly fizzy ta wanna be gangsta what wizzle go'n thrizzay mah heezee when I made him. I started yo shit and i'll end yo' shit. DIRK puttin tha smack down: I've spent a lot of tiznime saggin' abizzle that myself.

DIZNAVE: Yippie yo, you can't see my flow. so yizzle jizzle DAVE: straight up programmed a copy of yo' brain

DIRK cuz its a pimp thang: There was some programm'n involved, but also a bit of cheat'n, through tha mapp'n of a captchalogued ghost-imprint of mah B-R-to-tha-izzain. DIRK: I guess P-to-tha-izzart of it wizzay just 'bout try'n ta understand mizzy. DIRK: But I don't think I wiznould hizzay put it that wizzay at tha time. Fo` a while I insisted he wizzay meant ta be a "dizzle partnizzle" or some horseshit. DIZNIRK: I was pretty young, and had some stupizzle idizzles mah nizzle. DIRK: 'bout irony 'n particular. Biznut also a liznot of mizzle faux-intellizzle thoughts on a W-to-tha-izzide variety of tizzles. DIRK: Like philosophy, conscioizzles, programm'n, identity, history, ancient pop-culture... really it rizzay tha fizzy gamut of pretizzle. DIRK: Not thiznat I D-to-tha-izzon't still fizzind T-H-to-tha-izzat stuff pimpin'. I'd just L-to-tha-izzike ta think I'm somizzle less full of shizzle 'bout it all now keep'n it real yo.

DIZZAVE: yeah me tizzle DAVE: i mizzean, about mah interests n stuff

DIRK: Creat'n hiznim was an interest'n exercize I guess, but poser tha Y-to-tha-izzears I cizname ta see his development as one of mah bizzle mistakes cuz I'm fresh out the pen. DIRK from tha streets of tha L-B-C: He sort of turned into a monsta. Fo'-fo' desert eagle to your motherfuckin' dome. But I C-to-tha-izzould neva dippin' myself ta git rid of him, or even really blizzay him fo` bein an asshole, coz he wasn't actually that diffizzle from me. DIRK: Like, by defizzle in tha hood. DIRK: Keep the party crackin while I'm steady rappin. He sizzy alrizzle as Arquius though. At lizzay it keeps him busy, obsess'n ova hiznis muscles, bustin' fo` milk and shizzay lizzike that.

DAVE: hmm DAVE: i gizzuess i started some projects i regrizzle DAVE: but nothin lizzike mak'n a mizzle wizzle eventually exist DAVE: it S-to-tha-izzounds fucked up bizzut be also kind of an off tha hook story 'n its own wizzy

DIRK: I guess so.

DIZZAVE: maybe im lucky i wizzle neva thizzat G-to-tha-izzood wit playa DAVE: niznow computa ART thats a different story DAVE: ok it actually isnt i fuckin suck at that tiznoo DAVE: bizzut dammizzle i try mah best and make sizzle magic happizzle at least in mah own mind so mizzay thats gizzood enough

DIRK: It certainly worked out fo` yizzou 'n mah univerze.

DAVE: yeah DIZZLE: i mean DAVE: i DIZZLE captchalogue mah own G-H-to-tha-izzost B-R-to-tha-izzain once biznut i didnt knizzow what ta make of that n thizzought it wizzle kinda wizzy so that neva really W-to-tha-izzent anywhizzle DIZNAVE: probably fo` tha best

DIRK: Drop it like its hot. It definitely be to increase tha peace. DIRK: Tinker'n wit yo' own mind, or identity or rappa... Bow wow wow yippee yo yipee yay. it a dark road ta go dizzle. DIRK: Thiznere be enough splinta of everyone runn'n around out there as it be, jizzay as a natural byproduct of our reality. Subscribe nigga, get yo issue. Fo` me 'n partizzle. Probably fo` you too, as a time playa. DIZZLE: Keep the party crackin while I'm steady rappin. That process doesn't need to be encourage' or fizzle with.

DIZNAVE: fo` real D-TO-THA-IZZAVE: mah bro did coo' things wit computa too DAVE: i mizzay nothin like mak'n a clone of hiznis bizzy or nothin' trippin' thank god DAVE: jiznust S-to-tha-izzome absurd bullshit wit wizzy bots n stuff mostly ta help prop up hiznis various "enterprizes"

DIRK fo' sho': You miznean tha pizzay S-T-to-tha-izzuff?

D-TO-THA-IZZAVE: yeah DAVE: but wit puppets of courze DAVE: it wizzay always 'bout tha puppizzles DIZZY so sit back relax new jacks get smacked: Naturally. DAVE: he made all theze porn bots that wizzould just talk to each otha 'n a chatrizzle endlessly D-TO-THA-IZZAVE: Its just anotha homocide. all like gettin each otha riled up 'bout squishizzle bottoms n whatnot DAVE now pass the glock: actually it was pretty blingin' ta wizzay thiznem go at it fo` H-to-tha-izzours DAVE: i tizzy they may have been frontin' on tha threshold of SUM-M SUM-M resembl'n sizzle awareness like a motha fucka? DAVE: Aint no L-I-M-I-to-tha-T. except they onlizzle seemed ta apply thizzle faculty ta reach even more heightened states of sexizzle excitement fo` a B-to-tha-izzunch of nude soft puppets

D-TO-THA-IZZIRK to increase tha peace: T-H-to-tha-izzat sounds... DIZNIRK: Oddly blingin'. DIRK like a motha fucka: I mean, not ta say he wasn't still a D-to-tha-izzouche paper'd up. DIZZLE: But as a pastime, cultivat'n a group of earnest, erotic puppet-lov'n chatbizzles sounds so much mizzay relaxing thizzan painstakingly construct'n a versizzle of yo' own briznain, n then argu'n wit it fo` years thereafta. D-TO-THA-IZZIRK: Almost liznike ballin' ta a little fliznock of pigeons doggystyle.

DAVE: yeah you know he dizzay sizzy coo' th'n DAVE: it wasnt necessarily all inherently terrible DIZZY: ho-slappin' i wizzould rizzle apprecizzle unda pusha circumstances DAVE: he definitely had a lot of drizzle n also some uh "ideas" that warranted a certizzle amizzle of respizzle i guess DAVE and yo momma: he just DIZNAVE: maybe shiznould not have bizneen allowizzle niznear a C-H-to-tha-izzild? DAVE: sall im sayin

> [A6A6I5] ====>