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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years ago

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Chapter One: Lonely Together

Jack Kline x OC

Rated: PG

~I might hate myself tomorrow

But I'm on my way tonight

Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together~

Sent: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

I smiled down at my phone before clicking it off and slipping it into my pocket. I didn't know who I had sent the message to. It was just a number I had punched in at random. I didn't expect anyone to reply.

Wrapping my dark green cardigan tighter around my body, I pulled my knees in closer to my chest and pressed myself closer against the wall of the bakery. The wall was only slightly warmer than the frigid air around me. It was December 2nd and icy gales were blowing in from Lake Superior and stinging the skin of the city's occupants.

The sky hung dark, low, and flat over Copper Harbor, Michigan. Copper Harbor was an itty-bitty town at the northern most tip of the northernmost part of Michigan. You know that piece of land that's only connected to the mainland by a highway, that in-between place that really should be Canada, but isn't? That's where Copper Harbor is and that's where I was.

Copper Harbor was the sort of town where newcomers and visitors are as common as flying pigs and are treated with about as much scrutiny. It's not one of those small, friendly towns just off the highway; the ones that are pleasant to find yourself in if you've taken a wrong turn. It's quite the feat to get lost and turn up in Copper Harbor, considering its miles away from anything and everything remotely interesting, unless you're searching for Bigfoot or a drunk Canadian that took a wrong turn. Though those two things might just end up being one and the same. No, nobody came to Copper Harbor unless they had a reason. That's just the sort of place it was. And aside from the mind-numbing cold, it was exactly the sort of place I wanted to be.

The clouds were so heavy with the snow that now drifted down, dusting everything in a layer of fine white powder, it seemed that someone standing on even the lowest rooftop could reach up and touch them. The snowflakes raining down from those clouds gave the appearance of tiny shooting stars. Many would have found the sight beautiful. I didn't. I just found it cold and somewhat depressing. Some people say that shooting stars are angels, falling to the earth to bless the lives of people in need. I've never liked those sorts of stories. The stars belong in the heavens. The dust belongs on the earth. Collecting in puddles, the sparkling, sugar-like ice crystals did nothing to ease the bitter cold. I shivered and coughed, my breath fogging in front of me.

I should have frozen to death hours ago.

But I can't die. At least, not that way.

Suffering, on the other hand, I can do that to no end.

I put my head between my knees, hoping to retain what little heat my walking corpse had to offer. I struggled to remain conscious. The story of the little-match-girl was playing in my head. I'd never liked that story's ending. Hallucinations really weren't my thing, especially hallucinations about things I tried not to think about, the things I tried to burry in the farthest corners of my mind. I had to distract myself, to think about anything that would keep me awake. The problem was, there was nothing to distract me.

Pling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text. I grasped it quickly, greedy for a distraction, but I paused upon seeing the number displayed upon the screen. It was that number I had texted the Merry Christmas message to. Whoever it was had texted me back. I unlocked my phone and peered at the mystery person's message.

Received: 11:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

The message read. I smiled a little, surprised that anyone would care to return my quiet Christmas wish. The screen of my phone lit up with another message.

Received: 11:19 PM

Who are you?

The question was a simple one. Though tone can often be difficult to infer over written text, the question seemed to bear no hostility, only innocent curiosity. I thought for a bit about what to say, the answer was not as simple as the question had implied.

***

Located quite literally one thousand miles away from Copper Harbor, was the small, out-of-the-way town of Lebanon, Kansas. Now, in the outskirts Lebanon there was a hill. The hill was modestly sized and carpeted with thick grass painted with a layer of frost. Although it was a rather pleasant sight for some stray hiker to find, the hill was really quite unremarkable. That is, if you ignored the hulking steel door built into the side of it that looked like the entrance to a post-apocalyptic hobbit hole. See, built under that hill there was a bunker. It looked like any ordinary bunker if one can ever describe a bunker as ordinary. But inside this ordinary looking bunker, sat something rather extraordinary and his name was Jack.

Jack Kline was quite happy where he was. Sitting with his legs crossed on a chair beside the bunker's fireplace, Jack held Sam's beloved lap-top between his knees. Sam let him borrow it on the nights he couldn't sleep. Those nights were many. Sleepless nights were one of the many side effects of being half-angel, but he didn't really mind. Jack wasn't overly fond of sleep, not like Sam or Dean who adored the few hours they got. Jack would much rather be awake because if he was asleep then he couldn't observe. He liked to observe. He loved learning. He loved taking in anything and everything going on around him, soaking it all up like a sponge with legs. He especially loved to soak up a story. Epic ones with heroes that defeat powerful villains. Jack loved stories.

So, no; Jack Kline was not overly fond of sleep. No, Jack preferred to just sit quietly and watch those epic stories as they played out in front of him on the screen of Sam's lap-top.

Currently, he was watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars. The computer had said he would like it, and the computer had been right. He had just finished season 2 and had begun on season 3. Some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should slow down and draw the series out a little longer, but Jack just couldn't find the will to do so. This story was just too good to stop. Jack shoved a hand full of popcorn in his mouth as he pressed the play button on the next episode. He had managed to sneak several bags of popcorn from the kitchen and into the secret stash in his room a few nights earlier. It was perfect, except popcorn needed to be popped and popping the kernels without attracting notice was a bit of a challenge. But he found that if he popped them during the day, when everyone was clamoring about and busy with whatever, the noise from the popping kernels wouldn't peak any suspicion. The only downside to his strategy was that it left him with cold popcorn. Though this too could be remedied via his angel powers, if he was careful about it, he could warm up the popcorn undetected.

Now, don't get the impression that Jack was being starved, or held in this bunker against his will, or something awful like that. As was mentioned before, Jack was very happy there. The Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and the angel Castiel, lived there with him and took care of him. They were his family and Jack loved them. The only reason he had a secret stash at all was because Sam was the only one in the bunker who cared about the importance of having a somewhat healthy diet. Whereas Dean let the boy eat pretty much anything he wanted and Cas- well in Cas's mind food was food and that's all there was to it. But Sam didn't like it when he caught Jack eating what he referred to as 'junk food'.

Somehow, Sam always caught him.

"That stuff’ll rot your teeth, Jack!" He'd sigh, as he'd flip on the kitchen light and catch Jack eating cereal sometime around midnight. Then he'd look at Jack with a disappointed look on his face until Jack threw the cereal away and went back to bed. Jack hated it when Sam looked at him like that, he just couldn't bear to let the Winchesters down.

But Jack loved to eat. Eating was enjoyable as it brought with it something new every time. Yet more things to absorb and to experience. Although the younger Winchester disapproved of the more sugary foods; Jack liked those a whole lot more than the salads Sam tried to get him to eat. Jack didn't like the salads or 'Rabbit Food' as Dean called it. No, Jack liked popcorn a quite a bit more.

He smiled as he brought another handful into his mouth. Yes, Jack Kline quite enjoyed eating.

Plip! Ploop!

Jack's head swiveled away from the screen to stare at the phone laying face-up on the arm rest of the chair in which he sat. The screen was alight with a text message. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. The message read:

Received: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

That was all. Jack was quite confused; he didn't know that number. Who had sent the text? What should he do? Should he say something back?

Curiosity and caution struggled in a match tug-of-war in his head. He wanted to know who the message had come from. He wanted to know why that person had sent it. He also wanted to know why he had a strange feeling that whoever had sent the message was horribly sad. But would the Winchesters be mad at him if he answered? Sam and Dean had given him the phone just a few days earlier.

"For emergencies," Sam had said as he laid the device in Jack's hand before resuming his packing. Jack had stared at it, rather confused as to its purpose. Castiel had been off somewhere doing something and Sam and Dean had been leaving for a hunt, leaving him alone which Dean was completely and utterly against.

"Only for emergencies," Dean had stressed, jabbing his finger in Jack's general direction as he inspected various articles of clothing before tossing them into a duffle bag. "That means don't text or call unless someone is breaking in or you're dying!"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look. Dean ignored it and pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser, sniffing them briefly before making a face and chucking them to the other side of the room. Jack looked back down at the small black rectangle in his palm.

"Okay so, only text or call in case there's an emergency. Got it." Jack clinched the thin black box between his thumb and forefinger, carefully lifting it up as if it might explode in his face. "But, one question, if something happens like-like you said, like somebody breaking in or me dying, how-how would I do that?" He asked, looking back at the two brothers. They both froze their hasty packing and pivoted to stare at him, their eyebrows raised with disbelieving question.

"What?" Dean asked the young Nephilim. Jack shrank away a little, not wanting to upset the older Winchester.

"How do I text or call you? I don't know how to do that," Jack had timidly replied. Dean just shook his head and returned to over-stuffing the duffle. Sam, however, was much more understanding.

"That's right, you-you don't, do you?" Sam asked, realizing his mistake. Jack turned his attention to the younger of the brothers, shaking his head in an answer to Sam's question.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. Sam shot him another glare which Dean merely shrugged off.

"Well, come on then, I'll teach you," Sam had said. Jack watched as Sam set the contacts and explained how everything worked. He showed Jack how to send a text, how to dial and answer a call, and all the other things Jack would need to know. Jack just watched him and took note of every little thing. Watching and replicating was how Jack learned best.

"Now, if I don't answer my phone, you call Dean. But if he doesn't pick up, I want you to call me again, if I still don't answer a second time, I want you to call this number right here. That's Jody Mills, she's a friend of ours and she'll help you, alright? You get all that?" Sam finished explaining and looked for Jack to confirm his understanding. Jack nodded.

"I got it!" He said, enthusiastically. Sam gave the young boy a nervous smile.

"You do? Can you repeat it back to me?" Sam asked Jack the question the same way Sam and Dean's father had always asked them.

"If something happens, call you, and if you don't answer, call Dean. If Dean doesn't answer then I call you again, but if you still don't pick up, then call Jody Mills." Jack repeated all of Sam's instructions perfectly, grinning proudly at the younger Winchester when he finished. Sam laughed a little, but nerves twinged his voice.

"Good, yeah. Okay," Sam paused, thinking things over, "You know what, Jack? If neither of us answer your call and it's really that urgent, don't bother calling me a second time. Just call Jody right away if you can't get through to either of us. Alright?"

"Alright!" Jack nodded, grinning. Sam nodded back, stiffly.

"Alright." He seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn't know how to say it.

"You two done in there, Sammy?! We gotta go!" Dean called, walking in from another room. Sam stood and looked at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. I think we're good," He took a few steps towards the stairs that lead up to the door before pausing and turning back to Jack, "We're good, right? You're gonna be okay here by yourself?" Sam asked again. Jack grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Sam nodded and smiled with so much nervousness it almost hurt to watch.

"Okay, good. It's good. We're good," He said, nodding and trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Dean raised an eyebrow at his overly anxious little brother, tugging his old leather jacket on over his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed his remarks at Jack.

"Hey, kid. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid," He'd said, half glaring, "We'll be back in a few days." Then they'd left.

Now, Jack glanced back down at the phone in his hands, remembering Dean's warning about not doing anything stupid. But his curiosity regarding the sender of the message was overwhelming. It couldn't hurt to text this person back, right? Was that what Dean had meant by his warning? Did this count as something stupid? What was the worst that could happen? Deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he texted back.

Sent: 10:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

Jack wrote.

Sent: 10:19 PM

Who are you?

No sooner had asked his question, he began to worry that he might have sounded rude. He waited with anticipation for the mystery person to reply. He didn't have to wait long.

Received: 10:20 PM

It doesn't matter, you don't know me.

I'm just someone wanting to give you a warm holiday wish.

Jack frowned. Again, he got the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of this conversation was deeply saddened by something. He desperately wanted to know what. So, he did the thing he did best. He asked and waited to see what would happen.

***

Received: 11:21 PM

If you don't know me, why do you care?

I don't mean to be rude. I'm just curious.

Why do this?

I read the person's question once, then twice, then three times and I realized that I didn't have an answer. Why did I care? Why was I texting some random person a Christmas wish? For all I knew, this person may not even observe the holiday. I had so many of my own things to worry about I was nearly drowning in them. I didn't know this person. I had nothing to do with them. So, why did I care about their holiday season? Why was I doing this?

I told myself it was just a random act of kindness. But deep down I knew what the reason was, and even if I didn't want to think about it, I felt it in my heart. I was doing this for the same reason I did everything. So, I took a few moments and came up with a reply.

Sent: 11:25 PM

I'm doing this because I believe that no one should ever have to be alone,

especially during the holidays.

I sent my reply and remembered to keep on shivering. I could hardly feel the cold anymore, I had gone almost completely numb. But I knew if I didn't keep moving, I would surely freeze in place and be unable to move until spring came. I vaguely wondered how cold it was. I remembered having heard on someone's car radio that this was supposed to be the coldest winter Michigan had experienced in the last decade. Though winter had only just begun, it was already cold enough for the district council to be suggesting face coverings to prevent citizens from getting frostbite and losing their nose.

I sneezed. I had no such face covering. Hell! I didn't even have a jacket! Let alone a coat or anything mildly warm. All I had was my oversized green cardigan, my black Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans. That was it. Yet here I sat, outside a bakery in well below freezing temperatures, shivering myself into next decade.

I could go to a shelter. At least there I wouldn't have to endure the bitter biting of the wind as it gushed with double its normal force through these tight, abandoned alleyways. But if I went to a shelter then there was no chance of leaving undetected, I reminded myself. No, it was better to stay here, cold and alone, than to risk human contact.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another pling from my phone. Another message from that unknown contact.

Received: 11: 27

Are you alone?

Again, the question was simple. And although the mere thought hurt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound, I looked around at the dark, trash littered alleyway I sat in, watching the scattered rags of paper flutter and tumble in the winter gales, and I looked at the brutally beautiful puddles of speckled ice gathering along my body and melting on my skin, and I examined the bleak night sky, choked starless by the drifting dreary clouds; and the utterly silent stillness of the sleeping city revealed the harsh reality of my answer.

No one was here.

Nobody cared.

Not even the stars would keep me company. Because the stars never cared who I was.

So, with no reason to keep the truth hidden. I answered the question honestly.

Sent: 11: 29 PM

Yes.

Sent: 11: 30 PM

I am alone.

I was completely and utterly alone.

***

Received: 10: 30 PM

I am alone.

Once again Jack got the distinct impression that these words carried a heavy burden. It made him frown. What could he do to help a person he didn't even know? He wanted to ask this person if they had any friends, but something about those words told him the answer. When this person had said they were alone, Jack got the feeling they weren't just talking about the current moment. But maybe that's what this person needed. Maybe they needed a friend.

Sent: 10: 32 PM

Well, I'll be your friend and talk to you. There, now you're not alone anymore!

Jack smiled as he sent the text. The reply didn't take long.

Received: 10: 33 PM

Thank you.

You don't have waste your time on me but thank you.

It didn't take any special powers to read in between the lines this time, anyone could see the sadness in those words. Though Jack wasn't sure if it was his powers causing that strange feeling or if he was just imagining things.

Sent: 10:34 PM

I don't mind. Really!

Besides, I don't have anyone to talk to either.

Received: 10: 35 PM

Well, in that case, we can be lonely together!

Jack grinned. He'd made himself a friend. He couldn't wait to get to know them.

***

Received: 11: 36 PM

Since we're friends now, what's your name?

I smiled down at my new mystery friend's message. There was something about the words that made them seem innocent and earnest. It couldn't hurt to give my name, right? It’s not like he could find me. After all, I'm supposed to be dead.

Sent: 11: 37 PM

My name is Martina.

I sent my name and waited for the response. It came quickly.

Received: 11: 38 PM

I like your name Martina!

It's very pretty.

I flinched as I read the text. Something about seeing my name written in the text brought me back to a conversation with a different person a long time ago. It was a painful memory, and I didn't want to see it anymore. I didn't want another reminder of the still bleeding wounds in my heart. I remembered why I didn't let anyone call me that name anymore.

Sent: 11: 39 PM

Thank you.

But I would prefer you call me Marty.

I didn't want to be so sensitive to things like this, but I just couldn't help it.

Received: 11: 40 PM

Alright! I like Marty too.

It's a fun name.

I smiled; grateful they didn't ask why it was so important that they called me by a nickname.

Sent: 11: 41 PM

Thanks for understanding.

So, what's your name?

Received: 11: 42 PM

My name is Jack!

I grinned to myself. I'd made me a friend. I just couldn't wait to get to know him.

Sent: 11: 43 PM

Heya, Jack!

It’s nice to meet you!

I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Received: 11: 44 PM

I agree, Marty. We are going to be great friends!

Sent: 11: 45 PM

So, what's your favorite movie?

And just like that, we talked until the sun came up. And suddenly, for the first time in quite a while, I wasn't completely alone.

***

"Hey, uh, Jack? We're back!"

Sam's voice drifted in from just outside Jack's bedroom door. Jack was surprised. He hadn't heard the brothers come in which, for him, was quite peculiar.

The door creaked open and Jack hastily attempted to pretend like he hadn't been using the phone.

He failed.

Miserably.

The device slipped from his hand and he fumbled to catch it before it smashed against the grey, polished concrete floor. He let out a sigh of relief as he snatched it just in time.

Sam peered around the door, checking in on Jack, who was now hanging halfway off his bed and clutching the phone. Scrambling to sit upright, Jack gave Sam a half-panicked smile.

"Hi Sam!" He waved a greeting, shoving his phone behind his back. Sam raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"Hey Jack," Sam seemed a little distracted, "Have you seen Cas?" He asked. Jack shook his head vigorously.

"He's not back yet," He answered. Sam nodded and started to leave before stopping and turning back. Only now seeming to notice Jack's odd behavior. Sam gestured at the phone hidden behind the boys back,

"So, what were you doing in here just now?" Jack's eyes flew wide as quarters and his gaze shifted rapidly around the room, focusing on anywhere but Sam. His mind was working overtime trying to find a viable excuse.

"Uhhhh...Nothing!" Jack tried; his brain had gone blank. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" Sam leaned forward a little, narrowing his eyes. Jack leaned back to match; his face scrunched up with the guilt he was trying very hard to hide. Everyone in the bunker knew how terrible Jack was at lying. He might be able to pass a few simple fibs by a stranger, but his family saw through him like he was made of glass. He couldn't deceive them. But that didn't stop him from trying, however.

"Yes..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather sad attempt at looking sincere.

"Jack, what were you doing?" Sam asked more sternly. Jack looked at his feet and didn't answer. His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

"Do I have to go get Dean?" Sam pressed. Now Jack's head shot up. He stretched his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"No, no! Don't tell Dean!" Jack begged. Sam's expression shifted into one of concern.

"If you tell me, I won't tell Dean." Sam agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside Jack who shifted to give him some space. Sam waited patiently for the young Nephilim to speak. Jack kept his head down and rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to think of how he should explain himself.

"Well, last night I was watching Netflix when I got this text from somebody wishing me a merry Christmas-" He started.

"Someone we know?" Sam asked, interrupting. Jack shook his head and continued.

"I asked them why they would do that, and they said it was because they thought that nobody should be alone this time of year. So, I asked if they were alone and they said, yes ─" Jack looked the younger Winchester in the eyes ─

"I don't know why but I just got this- this feeling, and they sounded just so sad, and now we're friends! But Dean said not to do anything stupid, and now I'm worried that I did! Are you mad?" Jack finished, worry coloring his features. Sam blinked. Once again astounded by the size of the half-angel's heart, he shook his head.

"No, Jack. I'm not mad," He said, softly.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you did a good thing. Everyone needs a friend." Sam patted Jack's shoulder and smiled. Jack looked down, grinning to himself as pride filled his chest.

Sam waited a moment before getting up from the bed. Stretching his back out and groaning a bit as he stood. It had been almost 48 hours since he last slept, and he was more than ready for a long nap. His hand rested on the doorknob and he paused a moment before turning back around.

"Hey, uh, Jack. Just one more thing. Do you by chance know this person's name?" Sam asked. Jack looked up briefly before looking back at the floor again, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up to stain his cheeks.

"It's, uh, it's Marty," He replied. Sam nodded and moved to leave again but he stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion before he turned back.

"And uh, is that a boy's name or a girl's name? Do you know?" Jack turned his head a bit to the side and picked at a thread in his jeans.

"Does it matter?" He questioned back. Truthfully, it didn't. Sam wouldn't make Jack stop if he didn't want to. But to say that the boy's current evasive behavior didn't pique his interest, would be a lie. Though, the kid’s flushed cheeks told him quite a bit about the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging, "I'm just curious is all." The tall man watched the boy's reaction. Jack nodded and shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Marty's a girl." He answered, trying to force his voice into sounding nonchalant. And failing.

"Okay, cool." Sam nodded, turning around again, and reaching for the handle. Jack's head whipped around.

"Wait, Sam!"

Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Don't. Tell. Dean!" Jack stressed. Urgency was evident in his voice. Sam huffed a laugh.

"Okay, Jack." With that, Sam pulled open the door and walked out letting the heavy steel swing shut behind him. Behind the door, Jack sighed with relief. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Walking a ways down the hall, Sam got to Dean's room where his older brother was now unpacking. The younger brother leaned on the door frame and expelled the laughter he'd been holding on to since Jack’s room. Dean turned around, holding a pistol and a pair of weeks old and hopelessly blood caked socks in his hands, he faced Sam with a questioning look.

"What's got you so giggly all of a sudden?" The older of the brother's asked.

Dean glanced at the pair of socks in his hand. He grimaced at the stench and held them further away from his face, trying not to breathe. It didn't work. The socks odor was so pungent, Dean could smell them through his mouth. There was no hope of washing them. Nope, those things would have to be burned. Though, taking another whiff of them, Dean wasn't sure that even incinerating the socks would do him much good now. The stomach-turning stink would be branded into his memory forever. Sam straightened up, shaking his head of shoulder length hair.

"It's just something Jack said." Sam smiled and laughed again before taking notice of the unholy stench wafting off the socks. He coughed. "Dude, those stink. Bad!"

"Yeah, it's a sad day, Sammy." Dean nodded solemnly. Sam covered his nose.

"Why?"

"These were my second luckiest pair of socks."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, they're not anymore," Sam pointed out. Now, they were just rancid.

"I think we should give em' a Viking funeral, something to honor their service. I mean, I remember one time when I wore these things for two weeks straight!" Dean reminisced, grinning. Sam looked mildly disturbed.

"That's, uh... nice... But, uh, is there somewhere we could put them before the funeral? Because they, uh, they reek." Sam was trying hard not to gag and couldn't understand how Dean could be holding them and remain unaffected. Dean smirked.

"You wanna go put em' somewhere?" He asked, waving the socks into Sam's face. Sam leaned away.

"Ah! God! No! Put those things somewhere! Please!" He choked out. Dean just grinned and moved to the other side of the room. Grabbing a cardboard box from off the shelf, he shoved the socks in there and sealed the lid. The stench quickly began to dissipate.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"We're gonna have to burn that box too."

"Yup." Sam still felt a little sick but at least the socks were gone.

"So, what was it Jack said that you thought was so funny?" The older brother asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. It was nothing," Sam said. But laughter began to creep up on him again. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pulling more dirty clothing from the duffle bag.

"Are ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna spill?" Dean pushed. Sam sobered up again.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you," He said.

Dean shook his head, mildly annoyed. He knew Sam was going to tell him whatever juicy information he had gotten, just like he always did when he got that sly look on his face. Sam could be a bit of a schoolgirl that way. Except, of course, when it came to the important things, the things Dean was supposed to know. Those things Sam always kept to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if you ain’t gonna spill─" he used the gun in his hand to gesture from Sam to the duffle bag─ "get workin'."

The younger Winchester moved to the bag and started unpacking, grinning his face off all the while. Dean knew his little brother was waiting for him to ask about the thing with Jack again, so he said nothing. He just waited for Sam to look over to him eagerly, which is exactly what Sam did.

"So get this!" Sam started.

'Here it comes.' Dean predicted internally. Sam kept starring.

'Yatzee.' Dean thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably knew his brother better than that.

"Apparently, Jack got a text from some random person last night wishing him merry Christmas. And, well, you know Jack! So he─" Dean stopped his brother mid-sentence.

"What's her name?" He interrupted. Sam looked confused.

"I didn't say anything about a girl," Sam trailed off. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Geez, Sammy! If you love drama so much, you should go be an actor. You ain't foolin' anybody. We both know where this is goin' so just cut to the chase!" Dean sighed, opening a trunk and tossing in the gun he'd been holding along with several knives. His small outburst had startled his younger brother, but Dean didn't really care. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in 48 hours. Sleep was calling and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer. Sam frowned.

"Marty. The girl's name is Marty," Sam stated, sounding rather put out that Dean had guessed at his not-so-cleaver ploy. The older if the pair turned to the younger with a perplexed expression.

"Wait, wait. Marty?" He clarified. Amused disbelief written all over his features.

"Marty," Sam confirmed.

"Marty?"

"Yeah. Marty."

"Like the zebra in Madagascar, Marty?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, like that. But remember, you didn't hear anything from me!" He answered, smiling as well. Dean laughed as he turned his attention back to the mess of clothing and weapons surrounding him on the floor.

"Yeah, whatever, drama queen." Dean rolled his eyes and kept working. The room was silent for a moment before the older Winchester burst out laughing again. He couldn't help himself; he found the subject hilarious.

"Ah, man. Marty! Now there's a name!" He exclaimed as he started folding the few clean clothing items laying in the pile. "What? Did her parents just take one look at her and say: 'Look at our beautiful baby! Let's name her Marty!'" Dean scoffed.

Sam snorted and shook his head at his older brother's bad joke. Then he leaned his head back and yawned.

"Man, I think we need some sleep," Sam sighed. Dean smirked.

"Is it your bedtime already?" He taunted, expecting a playful retort. But this time, Sam didn't argue. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I think it is." Though worried about his little brother, Dean held his playful smirk in place perfectly, just like he had been doing for so many years.

"Well, you go ahead and hit the sack. I'll finish up here." He said, easily. Even though he was just as tired and Sam was, he would finish out like always. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, o'course. There's not much left anyway." That was a lie and they both knew it, but Sam took the offer of sleep while it was on the table.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam patted his older brother on the arm as he stood and left the room. Traveling down the corridor he got to his bedroom and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Dean mouthed the strange name of Jack's mystery girl and chuckled about it to himself. Sitting on the floor in his room as he continued folding the rest of the clean clothes, cleaning out all the weapons and putting everything back in its place. The chore took him two more hours to complete but when it was done, he stretched himself out and laid back on his bed.

"Marty. Now, that's hilarious." Dean snickered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

~I might hate myself tomorrow.

But I'm on my way tonight.

Let's be lonely together.

A little less lonely together~

Lyrics from: Lonely Together by Jasmine Thompson

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deltarune-enjoyer · 2 years ago

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I use youtube for music so i’ll just dump a bunch of links here

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0h6sNpcQMQ&list=PLfGznrc7zMsVfzYA-fRDTMRHiaS1OCfrf&index=18

Big Shot [Squimpus + RoomToon] by Lost-SoulSilver

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vg5-S9ZIqeQ&list=PLfGznrc7zMsVfzYA-fRDTMRHiaS1OCfrf&index=35

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QEItKfX90jU&list=PLfGznrc7zMsVfzYA-fRDTMRHiaS1OCfrf&index=45

Into the Light (Octo Expansion) Remix by SharaX

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xzk19rX3N6Y&list=PLfGznrc7zMsVfzYA-fRDTMRHiaS1OCfrf&index=17

Big Shot (deltarune remix) by Mariolmjj

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exCtT7SbyJA&list=PLfGznrc7zMsVfzYA-fRDTMRHiaS1OCfrf&index=34

Beta Arceus Theme (Reupload) by TheMightyHawlucha

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FXD8yBtZByQ&list=PLfGznrc7zMsVfzYA-fRDTMRHiaS1OCfrf&index=9

Big Shot (Symphonic Metal Cover) [WITH VOICE CLIPS] by ssbbmaster

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLPcwNnPxFM&list=PLfGznrc7zMsVfzYA-fRDTMRHiaS1OCfrf&index=13

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fGPmO1IYeM&list=PLfGznrc7zMsVfzYA-fRDTMRHiaS1OCfrf&index=25

Now's Your Chance To Be A [[BIG SHOT]] - Deltarune Remix by Agriden_Arts

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CdNwD9_mXLw&list=PLfGznrc7zMsVfzYA-fRDTMRHiaS1OCfrf&index=21

Welcome to the Internet - A Spamton Inspired Cover by Ploops the Bear

Big Shot [[SNOWGRAVE]] Cover uploaded by Dtadex but made by AzuriParker

tagged person (only if you want to join)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJuHbuJqW-E&list=PLfGznrc7zMsVfzYA-fRDTMRHiaS1OCfrf&index=20

BIG SHOT (From Deltarune Chapter 2) [REMIX] by dovarnian

@reginalusus

thank you so much @camoooh for tagging me!!

rules: shuffle your "on repeat" from Spotify or the music service of your choice and post the first 10 tracks

@tubbosbeess @deadpoetsorgy @little-ghosts-everywhere

#holy fuck #i did not know this posted #i forgot the titles that i was going to add later #anyway #music #The Mutuals #second song's title ill add later

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queennicoleinboots · 5 years ago

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Joebear Takes A Shit

It was Sunday, October 20 at 5:45 a.m. when Joebear and I had finished our spaghetti dinner. Yes, he and I existed on a different sleep schedule than most living creatures on Earth. We do not like day time or most people.

Anyhow, Joebear was putting away the remaining sauce until he all of a sudden called to me. "Xara, help!!!! Something's happening. I need you to put the rest of the sauce away!"

I got off the couch I was sitting on before I saw him do the funny 'I gotta poop right now' walk. I giggled. "Okay, Bae."

Joebear closed the door behind him before I heard a bear butt exploding with long-winded farts and enunciated ploops on the other side of the door.

I cracked up laughing as I was putting the sauce away.

"Stahhhp. It's not funny. My asshole is exploding from the inside out," Joebear said as I heard a continuing orchestra of farts and ploops coming from said bear butt.

"Sorry, bae," I said as I chuckled to myself and put the sauce away. I couldn't help but snicker. For some reason, poop sounds funny to me.

I was cleaning the kitchen when I heard a toilet flushing and a bear coming out of the bathroom.

"Hoooo! That sauce did something to me. I feel better," Joebear said as he went to wash his paws in the kitchen sink.

"Yes. It made you shit, bae," I said.

"Yeah. There was a category 5 storm brewing in my ass," Joebear said as he scratched his butt.

"Yeah, bae. It was coming out of you whether you wanted it to or not," I said with a laugh.

"Yeah, it was ready to blow Georgia over," he said before he spoke in a mock Southern accent. "Why do they let him in? He's not from here." He then switched back to a normal accent. "I bet that's what the Native Americans say about you Southerners. You're not from here, either. Get the fuck out of here."

"Haha, yeah," I said as I was cleaning up the kitchen from our spaghetti dinner.

"Hey baby, can I get some ice cream?" Joebear asked in a cute voice.

"Bae! You already had two bowls. I ain't feeding you any more. This ice cream bit is getting ridiculous!" I said loudly.

"Oh come on. It's Saturday. I get to cheat," Joebear said.

"You eat a whole container of chocolate ice cream a day," I said.

"Yeah, but this time you're feeding me. I love when you feed me," Joebear said.

"You are ridiculous. You need to quit with the ice cream!" I said loudly.

"Look at the size of this belly. How am I going to keep my bear belly?" Joebear asked.

"You need to lose some of that belly. It's too much sexy," I said.

"Oh yeah. But this distilled water will help me lose it," Joebear said as he walked up stairs.

"Yes, bae. You're goofy. You're ridiculous. Love you, Bae!!!!" I sang. I cleaned the kitchen and prepared a bowl of chocolate ice cream for my bear.

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kakashibestie · 4 years ago

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my hair goes *ploop* as in it flattens when it’s wet but it’s so chemically treated it stays like that for HOURS after i’ve showered and i have to bear to look at myself with. weird wavy bangs that are fully dry while the rest of my head just looks extra flat and...round

#mena.txt #AND I HATE IT BECAUSE IT'S KIND OF A LOOK #LIKE I DO HAVE SOME WAVES HERE AND THERE #BC AFTER ALL MY HAIR IS ONLY ONE LENGTH ASIDE FROM THE BANGS #as you guys can tell im v passionate about it sdjkghdj

0 notes

queennicoleinboots · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6 of Completely Out Of Sync: Too Many Frustrations Of The New Millennium- The Circus Arrives with Tropical Storm Fuck You to The Highway

I kept driving for a few minutes before the next crazy thing happened, minus Tropical Storm Fuck You opening the floodgates upon our cars. Apparently, the city of Watkinsville, GA was having a circus parade in the middle of the morning rush hour while they flew in the air. “Only me,” I said as I spent ANOTHER stupid period of time inching through traffic because I could barely see in front of me due to the strong rain. I’m pretty sure one of the grizzly bears gave me the paw as he crossed my path in traffic while flying on a unicycle. Mother fucker, you ain’t even supposed to be on the road. Where the fuck does he work? At least he was on the clock. I had to wait for his furry ass to cross the fuckin’ road so that I could possibly have had ANY hope at all of going to work on THAT particular day. I was getting extremely pissed off at this point. I was seriously ready to run over or through the next clown that cut me off. My phone rang again. Dammit, I should have installed Bluetooth.

I answered the phone, “MOTHER FUCKER, I’m stuck in traffic, and it's fucking raining!”

There was an awkward pause at the other end of the line. “Did you run into the circus on the highway?” my curly-haired pain-in-the-ass client named Peter Wallace Parker asked me. "How do you like the storm outside?"

“Are you kidding? Two bears gave me the paw. Five clowns cut me off, and now schoolchildren are trying to cross the fucking street in the middle of a storm,” I replied loudly.

The curly-haired, glasses-wearing beanstalk of a human being was laughing hysterically over the phone.

“You try driving in these bullshit conditions and see how you like it!” I screamed at him.

His laughing got even louder to the point where I put him on speaker phone.

"WHADDYA WANT?” I asked him.

“For you to come to work amidst a storm. Drive carefully. My house is a dustbowl from Kansas,” he sinisterly said. Meanwhile the Wicked Witch from the West and the Wicked Witch from the South were flying around me as I inched through traffic. Every asshole was honking at each other.

“I KNOW THAT! You are a dusty mess, Peter!” I yelled at him. I was sure he had ulterior motives. Apparently we're in Kansas.

“I ‘conveniently’ left a dish-filled sink for you to clean. I would help, but I have a novel to write,” he said with a snarky laugh.

Thud! Oh shit, I ran over a schoolchild and a large branch while talking to Peter. Fuck ‘em. What the hell is a child doing on the road at any rate? I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a clown and said angry child shaking their fists at me. I gave them the finger. I almost hydroplaned, too. Patches meowed in frustration.

“Fuck you, Peter. I would have started writing my novel if I didn’t have to see your bright-eyed face before three o'clock today. I will defeat you in this writing contest,” I said as I drove past a Barnaby float going into Logantown, GA at 40 miles per hour. Fuck it. Let's drive.

“Well, the last time you challenged me in a contest, you cost a poor Irishman his livelihood. Sometimes, I see him on the street mumbling things to himself like, ‘Why me? How could I have known that a squirrel was blowing chunks in my parking lot? Please, Mr. Health Inspector, it’s not my fault!’” he rambled on.

“Fuck. You. Peter. How the hell was I supposed to know you had a God-like tolerance for alcohol?!”

“Because I’m 75 percent Irish,” he said. I heard a PLOOP in the background. Meanwhile, I honked my horn.

“MAN, FUCK YOU YOU ASS-RAPING PIECE OF SHIT CLOWN! Oh sorry, Peter. Another goddamn clown cut me off again, and idiots are hydroplaning randomly. I almost ran him the fuck over AND HYDROPLANED,” I said.

“I see that you’re busy. I have to hang up now because I need to wipe my ass,” Peter said.

“Okay, Peter. You go do that. I am going to run over this fucking trapeze artist and hydroplane in style. He needs to go back to Italy. Fuck him,” I responded.

“Mhm,” he said as he hung up the phone.

A few seconds later, Patches meowed and commanded the storm to be gone.

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queennicoleinboots · 5 years ago

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Day 43 of Peter W. Parker and Xara the Goat's Curse: Another Toilet Breaks

A/N: Making fun of Southern women, suggested incest

I arrived at Peter's side of the house because Godiva was busy talking on the phone as she was twirling a strand of her brunette curly hair with her finger. When a woman is twirling her hair with her finger, you do not bother her.

Peter also looked busy because he answered the door with a pencil in his hand. "Sup?" he asked with a head nod.

"Well, I was thinking of ways to troll you diabolically," I said as I entered the door.

"Oh of course!" Peter said before a fly flew and danced around his head. He looked at the fly with the meanest scowl. "You mother fucker!" He turned to Godiva's side of the house. "MOM! Where's the fly swatter!!!!!????"

I laughed because my phone went off. Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater was calling.

"THOR! How art thee?" I asked.

"My world is unraveling. The VA has hacked my computer! I'm beating the hell out of it now!!!" Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater yelled.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" Peter yelled.

I turned my attention to Peter's turning of attention to a tanned human-like walrus woman with big legs and sagging breasts. Unfortunately, this creature was wearing a bikini and mowing the lawn. There was a rag on the back of her bikini that made it look like there was a rip in her royal blue bikini bottom.

I heard Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater beating his laptop to smithereens while I was trying to process what happened to the fly, Peter, and me. The fly dropped out of the air out of sheer fright. Peter then beat the fly to smithereens with his big hand to relieve his stress and anxiety.

"What is that indeed?" I asked.

In other news, Jamie rolled into Peter's side of the duplex and wanted him to call an upholsterer regarding his van of some year.

Tug rushed and saw the walrus woman with legs. "Holy Fuck what is that?" he asked and stopped dead in his tracks. He saw the same horrific sight Peter and I saw: the walrus woman with legs wearing a bikini mowing a lawn.

I did not process the fact that she too had an extensive toilet garden. I thought Godiva was the only woman who felt the need to have a toilet garden. Must be a Southern woman thing...

"Peter... she has a toilet garden," I said.

"What?! Again!?" Peter asked as he took a closer look out the window. "Fuck! The toilets follow me!!!"

"Toilets are everywhere, now call the upholsterer," Jamie said calmly.

Peter screamed before he ran away from the window and called the upholsterer.

"Yes. Hello. This is Peter W. Parker, the son of Jamie Parker, of course, ahem, a client of yours. Anyway, the roof of the van is falling apart on the 2000 2000 what... One? Dad...? DAD! What's the year of the van?!... DAD...," Peter was attempting to leave a message on the unfortunate upholsterer's answering machine.

"Yes. 2001, Peter," Jamie answered.

Meanwhile Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater was swearing over the phone to me in Nordic at his accursed laptop as he continued to beat the hell out of it. "Motherfuck.... Damn E-mail!"

"2001 Chrysler Dodger Van, and we need it fixed or my father's world as we know it will end. Please help. Thank you," Peter finished the voicemail and hung up the phone. "Ughhhhh! Jesus."

"I hate those phone calls. I make those more often than I care to admit," I said to Peter.

"I do, too!" Peter yelled.

"I hate this laptop!!!" Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater said as he screamed in Gaelic.

A phone call was coming in on another line. Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig was on the other line.

"Mr. Thor, I need to tend to my walrus bear pig. Call you later," I said.

"Ahhhhhh!!! I gotta shit!!!" Peter yelled as he ran to the toilet.

Tug followed Peter to the bathroom.

"I'm going to check on Godiva. She was ordering broken toilets for her garden," Jamie said as he wheeled away.

I heard a chorus of ploops and farts as Peter was taking a crap in the toilet. Tug waited outside of the bathroom door.

Mr. Thor was beating his laptop and swearing while not giving a fuck about me at that point.

I switched lines, "Hello BaeWhuhh. Bullshit happens here," I said as I laughed.

"Oh God. What?!" Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig asked.

"Well, Peter is fucked up. He had a pencil in his hand before a fly assaulted him," I said with a laugh.

"Speaking of flies, a millipede is crawling on the floor. Let me squash it. I swear I'm going to fucking spray this entire house for bugs!' Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig yelled as he squashed the bug.

"I know. Millipedes are constantly assaulting Peter. Lol," I said.

"What else happened?" Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig asked.

"We saw a walrus woman with legs who was wearing a bikini and mowing the lawn!" I yelled. "The fly dropped to the ground in fright, and Peter smashed it with his bare hand."

Peter was still pooping in the background, and his butt was singing an opera of diarrhea.

"Oh wow. That's fucked up, bae. Not a good image to have," Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig said.

"Yeah. She had a rag hanging from the back of her bikini. I thought her bikini had a rip in it. Very disturbing," I said as I shook my head.

Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater called me back, but I was still finishing my conversation with Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig.

Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig laughed loudly before yelling, "Haha Woooooowwwwwww!!!" He continued to laugh.

"Yeah. Then Peter is now taking a dump. He had to call an upholsterer earlier, and he didn't know what was happening from Adam. Haha," I said as I chuckled.

"OH NOW WHAT THE FUCK?! MY BITCHASS TOILET WON'T FLUSH. OF course not. Fucking asshole!" Peter yelled at his toilet through the door.

"I wanted to let you know that Kissy laid with me while I slept. I just woke up. She looks like a T-Rex orange tabby with a long body and short legs," Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig said.

"She takes after you, Bae," I said with a laugh.

"Haha. I know. I'm still tired. You have got to be exhausted," Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig said.

"I'm slaphappy, and Peter is screaming at the toilet and banging on it," I said with a laugh.

Peter bleated out of distress. He was also part of the secret society of goats. In fact, he was half a rank above me.

I responded with a bleat to calm his nerves.

"I called to tell you you need rest. Go help Peter. He sounds fucked up," Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig said.

"He is," I said.

"Well, I love ya," Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig said.

"Love you, too," I said before Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater called me again.

Wally the Walrus the Bear the Pig hung up before I switched to Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater's line.

"Yes?" I asked over the phone as I knocked on Peter's bathroom door.

Peter screamed in an Afrikaan language before he shouted, "I am so sick of this mother-fucking toilet in this mother-fucking bathroom!!!" Peter yelled again as I heard a crash.

"I need help beating my mother-fucking laptop. It won't die. The government is tracking me, and I won't stand for this. I'm a Norse God!" Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater yelled.

"I will be there when I can. Peter had diarrhea," I said as I knocked on the door.

Peter bleated in extreme distress as I heard more porcelain breaking.

"Oh God. And I thought I had issues. Send some of his diarrhea to the motherfuckers who are tracking me," Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater said.

"Haha. Yeah, really. I'm surprised Peter has a butt left," I said.

"Fuck you!" Peter yelled as I heard something fly out of the bathroom window. At first, I thought he was telling to me.

I couldn't help but crack up.

"What the fuck now?" Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater asked.

"I think Peter threw his toilet out of the window," I said as I belly-laughed.

Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater laughed uncontrollably. "You need to get here ASAP to get the fuck away from that guy. He is fucked up," he said as he continued laughing. "I need to beat the laptop. This goddamn thing is pissing me off."

I laughed loudly. "No problem. Let me fix this asshole. Then I'll be there," I said.

"Yeah, literally," Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater said with laugh before he hung up.

I saw a mallet come through the bathroom door. I jumped back and stared at the bathroom door.

"Holy Shit fuck this! I'm leaving," Tug said as he hauled ass out of the house.

The mallet tore through the fucking door. Peter kept beating the shit out of the door. "Another fucking toilet broke! God. Dammit. I thought I was done with toilets randomly breaking. It happened non-stop at the other house," he began to rant before he hit the door again. "I guess I was wrong. This motherfucker broke, too. I guess I was destined to not have a fucking toilet. I threw that son of a bitch out of the window. I'm done with toilets. I'll just shit in a hole in the floor and flush it down with a bucket. Why not? All of Africa does that!! I'm black! It's fitting!!!!"

At that moment, the effects of the West Nile virus have subsided, and Peter returned to his original form. He looked like current Godiva's twin brother.

"Ohhhhhh fuck you! I was just getting used to being black, too. I guess I have to buy another toilet and new bathroom door! This door was a fuckin' piece of shit anyway!!!!" Peter yelled as he beat the ever-living shit out of the door. He added a kick for dramatic effect. He made that bitch look like cardboard.

I held my right hand to my heart and started laughing hysterically.

"I'm ordering a new toilet. Fuck this. As soon as I get my dog back in the house, I'm ordering a new toilet AND A DOOR THAT ACTUALLY FUCKIN' WORKS!!! Not to mention another fucking window. Fuuuuck it. I'll remodel the whole bathroom!!!" he yelled at the pile of wood on the floor. "I need to fix this house. My parents gave me the bullshit side of the house, that's for sure!!!" He continued to rant like a psycho as he carried his mallet with him to the outside world. "I just want a toilet that fucking works! IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK!!!????"

I followed him out in the hallway and started laughing again. "YES!!!" I yelled as I burst out laughing.

His phone started ringing and thereby caused the Pokemon battle theme song to start playing.

"Oh for the love of God!" Peter yelled as he went to answer his phone. He looked at the caller ID. "OH GOD IT'S PAUL!!!!!" He screamed before he answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Peter. You sound normal. How are you?" Paul asked.

Peter laughed hysterically before he answered. "Anything but. My dog escaped the premises, and my toilet just broke," he said.

I chuckled at the response.

"That's some tough shit to deal with right there," Paul said with a chuckle. "Sorry to hear. By the way, I need you to work tomorrow."

"Thank you. I appreciate it," Peter said as he was grinding his teeth and squeezing the phone.

"No problem. See you at 9 a.m. sharp in Covington, GA. I'll text you the address," Paul said.

"Okay," Peter said with gritted teeth and a left eye twitch.

"Goodbye, Peter," Paul said before he hung up.

The Pokemon battle theme song stopped.

Peter put his phone down gently on his desk and sighed. He still had that gritted smile on his face.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVE TO GO TO WORK TOMORROW!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVE TO DO DRYWALLLLLL!!!!" He yelled before letting out a blood-curdling bleat of frustration.

I let out a bleat of complete amusement and Scheudenfreude before laughing uncontrollably.

All of a sudden, he held the mallet with both hands and started walking forward quickly while swinging it up and down repeatedly and swiftly to the rhythm of this song, https://youtu.be/gbeXteFwkng.

He was breaking everything in his path as headed outside to break more shit. He busted the doorknob to his front door before we made it to the outside world.

Jamie and still young Godiva Parker were outside talking to the walrus woman with the bikini. She was mowing their driveway and lawn. Her broken toilets had taken over the yard.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS????!!!!" Peter screamed at all the toilets in his yard as he continued to wave his mallet up and down.

Godiva laughed and went to her son who looked like her twin brother. "Samantha, our new neighbor and I decided to grow the largest toilet garden in the state of Georgia. I'm ordering new toilets," she said with a smile.

Peter gritted his teeth in an angry smile before he stopped waving the mallet up and down and thereby caused this song (https://youtu.be/gbeXteFwkng) to stop. "I have another toilet to add to your garden. I just threw mine in the fucking yard," he said through his gritted teeth.

I was in shock. There were over 40 broken toilets in their yard. I thought they escaped the toilet gardens when they moved. I assumed Peter thought the same thing.

"Oh fantastic, Peter," Godiva said as she hugged and kissed him. "You're amazing." She scratched his back while reaching under his light gray shirt.

"Is he your twin brother?" Samantha the walrus woman asked.

Godiva was about to answer her question with a "no," but explaining to a stranger that she was actually his mother when he returned to normal would be too much for Samantha the walrus woman. She instead said, "Yes. We're Peter and Godiva Parker. This man, Jamie Parker, is our father. Our mother, Wanda Parker, died six years ago from a terrible car accident." She hugged Peter around his waist while her arm was in between his light gray shirt and milky white flesh. She was rubbing his back and right side.

In reality, Wanda was Godiva's daughter, but everything else was true.

"Oh wow. Your parents made two beautiful children," Samantha the walrus woman said as she was mesmerized by their beauty.

Jamie went to correct Godiva, but Godiva looked at him and coughed. He instead said, "Yes. My children are absolutely gorgeous. I miss their mother, but they do great in taking care of me."

Peter and Godiva grinned at Jamie.

"There is one profound difference between me and my sister, though," Peter said as he looked at her. "She, for some reason, has this damnable OBSESSION with having broken toilets in our yard! I thought we agreed to forget the toilet gardens this time!" He had the hardest press smirk that could possibly be conceived.

"I get excited about toilet gardens. Sorry, Peter. I couldn't help myself. Imagine all the plants and Venus Flytraps you can have in your yard. Think of it as living security," Godiva said as she leaned up against Peter and kissed his left side.

"I think that's a shitty form of security. I'm the fucking security," Peter said as he stormed off and started smashing the toilets with his mallet. "SECURE THIS, MOTHER FUCKER!!!!" Peter laughed maniacally as he was smashing the porcelain thrones into pieces. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY DRIVEWAY!!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY YARD!!!!! Hahahahaha!!!"

I was HOWLING with laughter and noticed Tug coming back to witness his crazy owner smash a bunch of broken toilets and swear up a storm. Tug rolled on the edge of the driveway near their mailboxes and started howling with laughter, too.

Samantha the walrus woman was in shock. "Your brother is extremely crazy. Hot, but extremely crazy." She scratched her butt as she watched Peter smash toilets. "I spent over 40 years collecting those broken toilets."

"Not to worry. The toilets will resurrect by next week. I know someone who fixes toilets that have turned to rubble. Peter had an episode like this a year and nine months ago. Dad and I found a man who could fix toilet bowls from rubble, and he raised the toilets from the dead. Your toilets will be restored to their former glory. Also, I ordered more toilet bowls just to fuck with my brother," Godiva said with a laugh that sounded evil.

Pennywise the Dancing Clown rose out of one of the toilet bowls with his face on one of the sunflowers and asked, "I'm Pennywise the Dancing Clown. How do you doing, Georgie?"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY DRIVEWAY!!!!!" Peter yelled as he smashed the toilet and sent the pieces in an entirely different yard.

Tug and I continued laughing our heads off. I was crying and having a hard time breathing.

Jamie Parker watched Peter and said, "My boy has issues."

Peter then smashed the toilet that he took a dump in earlier. Some of his turds and a few pieces of used toilet paper were laying in the yard.

"Maybe toilet training issues," Samantha the walrus woman said as she grinned.

"Apparently. I think that toilet broke recently," Godiva said with a chuckle. "There will be some remodelling in that bathroom." She shook her head with a huge grin as she suppressed laughter.

Peter walked over to everyone else with sweaty brown curls sticking to his face and a mallet in his right hand. "I am victorious against the toilet garden. Now to fix my bathroom!" Peter said as he walked inside of the house. Tug followed him in the house after a massive laughing fit. Jamie also went inside while Samantha the walrus woman and Godiva talked.

I meanwhile left the premises to deal with Mr. Thor the Appliance Beater's laptop. But first, I laughed until no sound came out at the fucked-up series of events that just occurred one after another in front of me.

0 notes

queennicoleinboots · 5 years ago

Text

Day 28 of Peter and Xara's Curse: Help! There are Vaginas Growing In My Armpits

Joebear and I were watching TV and saw an advertisement for Shit Busters.

Poop Ploop Poop Poop Poop

Poop Ploop Ploop Poop Poop

Poop Ploop Ploop Ploop Poop

If there's something strange in your toilet,

Who you gonna call? SHITBUSTERS!

If poop monsters fuck you,

And you don't like it

Who you gonna call? SHITBUSTERS!

If there's something stank and it looks fucked up,

Who you gonna call? SHITBUSTERS!

Please call 1-800-FUK-SHIT

"These commercials get more and more degenerate as time goes on," Joebear commented as he laughed.

Joebear's phone rang again. "Wild spam caller again... Let's see who it is this time!!! Hello?!" Joebear was holding the phone with his right paw.

The Pokemon battle theme song comes on.

"Hey. I'm looking for Kiefer Sutherland," the spam caller asked.

"Ughhhhh. There is no Kiefer Sutherland here," Joebear growled in the phone.

"Sorry, sir. Are you Dan Aykroyd?" the spam caller asked with a laugh.

Joebear sighed. "Can you put me on your 'Do Not Call' list?"

"Yessir," the spam caller said with a laugh.

"Thank you," Joebear said before he hung up the phone.

The Pokemon Battle theme music stopped.

Joebear and I made the Conehead sound in response to the spam phone call!

We then turned off the TV and tried to rest. We were tired from fishing, Pokemon battle theme songs, and everything else. Kissy had been farting in full force. Jasper called me to tell me that Murphee was also farting in full blast. We had a very fucked-up day.

We laid down and talked about conspiracy theories, Jesus Christ, and the New World Order before we slept.

At around 10 a.m., I woke up to extremely itchy armpits. As a natural reaction, I was scratching my armpits in my half-awake state. I noticed there were deep wet holes in my armpits. They actually felt good to touch.

I was curious about what was going on with my armpits, so I went to the restroom, took my morning piss, and then took a glance at my armpits and laughed.

What? There was a vagina in each of my hairy armpits. Yes, I think shaving is a waste of time. These vaginas had teeth in them. I was half-expecting them to start talking like the Venus Flytrap did in Little House of Horrors. They'd have more intelligent conversations with me than most people do around here.

In order to process my armpit vaginas, I went downstairs to get coffee. Coffee was the only drink that kept me sane. All I ever want to do whfen I first wake up is have a cup of coffee without worrying about anyone else's ridiculous bullshit.

Mr. Williamson, whom I have now termed Mr. Bright and Early, has been a royal pain in my ass for the last couple of weeks. He all of a sudden wants to do things bright and early even though he damn well knows that's the only time I can actually get some fucking sleep. I swear he is doing this to fuck with me and to fit in as many sermons as possible.

Southerners exist only for the sheer purpose of fucking with Northerners. Because the North won the Civil War, the South has decided to wage mental warfare on the North by denying education and making so much nonsense that the well-meaning, well-educated Northerner has no choice but to go insane over the sheer stupidity. Because the South tried to secede from the United States and failed miserably due to lack of intelligence, the Southerners blame Northerners for all their problems. If anyone is good at gaslighting, it's a damn non-yankee. Gaslighting is blaming the victim of the problem FOR THE PROBLEM.

The Southerners go out of their way to find the dumbest thing to say in any given situation; thereby, driving the Northerner completely insane. The Northerner never ceases to be amazed by the stupidity the Southerner display in any given situation. You'd think there would be a limit, but there never is. Just when you'd think it couldn't get dumber, it always does. Madness...

The Housekeeping Association is adding more and more ridiculous rules in our lives for the sheer purpose of fucking with mostly-law-abiding, well-meaning housekeepers of Georgia. They have now started chanting "Bright and Early! Bright and Early!" at the beginning and end of every meeting. The goddamn pterodactyls that followed me to Peter's house two days ago followed me to my Housekeeping Association meetings. I really am cursed.

By the way, I can't take my yearly evaluation test that's required to even work with, around, and/or for until two days from now because the testing facilities for the Housekeeping Association are full until then. I swear I'm not going to get a fucking thing done today, am I? I was supposed to do it today, but a bunch of pterodactyls took up the seats for test-taking.

Peter the Ape is surprisingly less annoying as an ape than he was as a human. He was the most obnoxious person on Earth when he was human. I much preferred the two-dimensional ape with an involuntary smile on his face to the three-dimensional OBNOXIOUS human being who can do whatever he pleases because he is Prince Asshole.

Godiva lately has adopted all of human Peter's qualities of obnoxiousness minus being fully argumentative. She is just passive aggressive and resentful toward me. She gets away with it because she is gorgeous enough to be a model. Maybe there's some tension she and I need to address in a different story.

Jasper has even had his own flare of being annoying sometimes. He liked to ask me the most annoying questions multiple times in a row. "Did you make coffee today?" Yes, I always do. "Are we going to have supper today?" YES, JASPER, WE WILL! I work for a fucking living. I don't always sit on my ass and eat bonbons. Jeez, Jasper. Get it together! "Does Murphee have dog food?" Have I ever starved your dog? No! Good God how fucking annoying! Arrereggffhhhhghhhh!!!!

It was truly one of those mornings where I wish I could just get away from everyone and everything. Even my vaginal armpits were gnawing at the bits as they dreaded contact with other humans.

I finished drinking my coffee, doing the dishes, and cooking Joebear's breakfast of a cheese omelet before I went upstairs to him.

"Here's your breakfast, Boo," I said as I handed him his plate.

"Thank you," he said as he took his plate and ate.

"Welcome, Boo," I said as I went to get ready for yet another stupid day at work.

He was listening to DarthSydePhineas streaming Crash Bandicoot while he ate.

When I was almost ready for work, I heard my vaginal armpits hissing.

"Quiet, dammit. I have to make money," I said to my vaginal armpits.

"What?" Joebear asked. "I didn't say anything."

"No, no," I said. "My armpits hissed." I then showed him the vaginal armpits.

Joebear raised his eyebrows as he saw the vaginal armpits. "Oh wow! That's fucked up." Joebear's boner emerged out of his fur before he growled out of excitement. He immediately dove for me and then put me on the bed. "I must fuck your armpits!!!!"

I lifted my arms and allowed Joebear's large dick to enter my right armpit. He was excited as he humped my right armpit back and forth. He growled like a bear with pride as he made dick love to my armpit. It felt like I was being invaded in my actual vagina. How about it? I'm a woman with three vaginas. The 5G network has radiated me several times over to the point where I have three vaginas, two in my armpits. I might have armpit cancer. I have no idea.

Joebear then removed his penis from my right vaginal armpit and transferred it to my left vaginal armpit.

"Ooooh. That's good, too. Oh yeah! I need action! Rrrrrrrumba!!!!!!" he screamed as his dick went in and out of my left vaginal armpit.

Again, that felt as good as it would if Joebear put his penis in my actual vagina. It seems my vaginal armpits were a blessing instead of a curse. Maybe I'll keep them after all.

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